Gucci Mane – Blood All On It Lyrics

Gucci Mane Blood All On It Lyrics (feat. Young Dolph & Key Glock)

Let the band play
Yeah, yeah, uh, yeah, uh, yeah, uh
Okay, ayy

Cash out if I want it (For real, though)
The money got blood all on it (For real, though)
The money got blood all on it, yeah
The money got blood all on it (For real, though)
Bad bitch with me on it (For real, though)
Nigga wanna beat me, don’t it?
With the money got blood all on it
Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Hey)

My young niggas ready to shoot (Down)
‘Cause they ain’t got nothin’ to lose (Down)
He said, it’s fuck everybody and fuck everything, he got somethin’ to prove (Down)
In the trenches pullin’ moves (Got ’em)
A hundred racks in blues
In a shoebox, hell nah, that don’t make no motherfuckin’ shoes (Racks)

(Ayy, what you do, nigga?)
Took a motor out a ‘Vette put it in a Chevelle (Switch it up)
Do my dirt all by myself ’cause these niggas gon’ tell (I swear)
She look like God sent her from Heaven but she fine as hell (Bad)
I’m sendin’ five stage, I just broke my scale
Look who just caught a murder and I just post his bails (Yeah)
Doing donuts on the ‘Rari, I’m a major player (Skrrt)
Send bags to the hood and to the opps I send some shells
Never talk on a phone and never leave a paper trail
Super bad bitch with a body like (Buffy) (Woah)
Went to see my jeweler, spent a million like it’s nothin’ (A million)
I got on too much ice, she caught the flu when she fuck me (Uh)
Plain Jane Richard Mille, I told my jeweler, “Bust it”

Cash-out if I want it (For real, though)
The money got blood all on it (For real, though)
The money got blood all on it, yeah
The money got blood all on it (For real, though)
Bad bitch with me on it (For real, though)
Nigga wanna beat me, don’t it?
With the money got blood all on it
Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Hey)

My young niggas ready to shoot (Down)
‘Cause they ain’t got nothin’ to lose (Down)
He said, it’s fuck everybody and fuck everything, he got somethin’ to prove (Down)
In the trenches pullin’ moves (Got ’em)
A hundred racks in blues
In a shoebox, hell nah, that don’t make no motherfuckin’ shoes (Racks)

At a top, where it get real lonely
Just might put a
New Phantom with the forges on it
And the paint got blood all on it (Ah)
These niggas ain’t eatin’, they starvin’ (Nah)
I can see ’cause they crew gettin’ boney
These do nothing but clout chase
These boys just some one-trick ponies (Pussys)
Man, this rap game so damn phony
These niggas a bunch of Jabronies
Everything you got, they want it
That’s why I’m still up on it
Just told my hitter, he on it
Nigga better break fast like Shawnee’s
And I got my bag like Tony
These niggas wanna clone me, don’t it? (Huh)
I went from ridin’ a V12, switched it up and now my motor electric
I stacked the way more millions than haters expected
You gotta shoot for your respect, that’s how you send a message (Paow, paow)
You gotta do what you gotta do to keep family precaution

Cash-out when I want it, yeah
These bitches know how I’m comin’, yeah
These niggas know how I’m comin’, yeah
The bitches know how I’m comin’
(Why they call you Tony?)
‘Cause I pop shit ’bout my lonely
Pocket full of Crip, blue hunnids, yeah
Money got blood all on it (Yeah, yeah)

Yeah, I’m the one, not the two (Two)
I turn a one to a two (Two)
I’m havin’ racks, yeah, I got the bag, yeah
I put the bag on you, you
I put the bag on you too
Inside my Hellcat
I’m goin’ inside, keep me a two
They like these young niggas loose, screw
Yeah (Draco)
Two, two, dos on my McLaren, put it on my gears, ayy
Don’t compare me to no rapper ’cause these niggas weird, ayy
They done pissed me off, it’s codeine all up in my urine, ayy
When it come to shootin’ shit, my jump up be the peers

Cash-out if I want it (Bitch, for real, though)
The money got blood all on it (Yeah, for real, though)
The money got blood all on it, yeah
The money got blood all on it (For real, though)
Bad bitch with me on it (For real, though)
Nigga wanna beat me, don’t it? (Huh)
With the money got blood all on it
Yeah, the money got blood all on it (Hey)

My young niggas ready to shoot (Down)
‘Cause they ain’t got nothin’ to lose (Down)
He said, it’s fuck everybody and fuck everything, he got somethin’ to prove (Down)
In the trenches pullin’ moves (Got ’em)
A hundred racks in blues
In a shoebox, hell nah, that don’t make no motherfuckin’ shoes (Racks)