I'm Gudda Lyrics

by Gudda Gudda

I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, Gudda.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
Got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.

[ Lyrics from: http://www.lyricenter.com/e104632-guda_guda~im_guda_lyrics.html ]
Gudda, pocket full of paper,
Back on my garage and try to do something to my neighbors.
Pour duce up to the big race, money got me with a big hand,
I'm too good, I'm for life, until I'm laying in a ditch day.
Pistol in my jeans, don't make me point it at your big head,
Most you niggers is bitch made, my guns look like in 5th grade.
I guess to it, I just do it, last track and I just abused it.
20-20 vision, I see money and I get to it.
20 care in my livers, imma blow it all at the dice game,
Can't take it with me when I die, that's why I'm just living my life, man.
Wood grain on my steering wheel, pinky ring on my right hand,
Twenty thou' my closet and my pistol on my night stand, I'm Gudda.

I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, Gudda.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
Got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.

To the streets I'm on my Gudda shit,
With my brother Gudda, we on that Gudda shit.
Two two's on me, don't make me aim ‘em at you,
Rear flaming flat, you're just a flaming faggot.
My money enough, I don't do some tracking,
No moving scrap bitch, but I'm about that action
Rare Bentley, rare chucks, got the redneck cops on my head, fuck.
I did jail and I ain't trying go back,
Gave my lawyer ten racks and told a whole lie.
East side, that's where we rap,
So don't make me introduce you to the bottom of the tag.
Bitch, I'm Gudda.

I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, Gudda.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
Got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.

Okay, I'm Gudda like the balling and the east side is my turf,
Air hoes in the tacket, make you whistle like a nerf.
I come straight out my own room, pronounce the real nigger at birth,
Got my riffle in this rap shit and my left foot on a turf.
So imma mix them both together and imma play it for what is worth,
Hoping for the best, but I prepare for the worst.
Mama told me “don't be scared, so if you're scared, go to church”
Put the money on your head and prepare for rehearse.
We pull a lie from the bottom of the gutter,
Niggers think they're fly while I fly in a chopper.
Man, I'm laughing at you suckers for the lies that you otter,
Imma let these niggers know one more time that I'm Gudda.

Bitch, I'm Gudda.

I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, Gudda.I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
I'm Gudda, I'm Gudda,
Got high the rest of all,
Yeah, I got that bottle.