Letras We Got Dat - Gucci Mane, 2 Chainz, Chubbie Baby

We Got Dat

What up, Chubbie? Haha!\nI see you getting money, nigga!\nThey say you run Ohio, nigga!\nI fuck with you! What up 'Bachi?\nLet’s go! DJ Holiday!\nShoutout my nigga Tity Boi! My nigga Dolla!\nSouthside, stand up! We working!\n(The Aphilliates, nigga!)\nI know what y’all thinking!\nAre we ever gon' let up?\nWhy though? Ain’t nobody else gon' do it!\nShit! We getting money, let’s go!\n(Pay close fuckin' attention!)\n(Yeahhhh) Everything I drive real fast\nHad to let my chick drive 'cause that bitch real bad\nFirst I let her drive it, then I let her ride me\nI charged a nigga $ 40, 000 just to stand beside me\n(Yeahhhh) Now that’s a stupid check\nGave 40 to Tity Boi and now I got that stupid pack\nOn I-20 with duffle bags, yeah, I shock a bitch (Chaka)\nTwo million dollars cash money, damn, man, that’s ludicrous\nI love to ball with bougie broads, it’s big Gucci, yeah I’m a dog\nA photoshoot off in the vocal booth, 'nough ice for all of y’all\nTen bricks outta fishscale, same color as Paul Wall\nTook off all the burglar bars, you know what we doin', dawg\nEvery day I’m stunting dawg, money ain’t really nothin' dawg\nYa boyfriend riding the bus so you need to ride with us, aww\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)\nI can’t leave that trap alone, he can’t leave that trap alone\nWe can’t leave that trap alone, never gon' leave that trap alone\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)\nApple-red coupe, Jolly Rancher rims\n63 on the vent, that’s a super-charged Benz\nWith the Big Apple plate and yeah he cost me some ends\nNew chopper in the trunk that’ll chop down ya friends\nAnd my Boost phone jump soon I touch in Columbus\nMan, that pearly white on deck, the Northside do numbers\nTrue Religions on my ass, wrist on froze\nMe and Gucci hit Velvet and pop thirty Ropes\nIf you short six grand, man, you getting 30 o’s\nWhen I re-up, man, it look like I did thirty shows\nIn the morning count us doling while you niggas throwing 'bows\nAnd the coupe on autopilot, you see how it floats?\nEvery day I’m stunting dawg, money ain’t really nothin' dawg\nYa boyfriend riding the bus so you need to ride with us, aww\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)\nI can’t leave that trap alone, he can’t leave that trap alone\nWe can’t leave that trap alone, never gon' leave that trap alone\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)\nI got that Pyrex vision, all we talk is chickens\nI love my stove so much I got a bed in my kitchen\nA fine red girl give me head in the kitchen\nIf a nigga try to rob me, he’ll be dead in the kitchen\nI’m stunting with my shirt off, my girl like Smirnoff\nWe get that dough for cheap-cheap, my nigga that’s bird talk\nThen I pull that 'vert out, I’m with my girlfriend too\nRims so tall it make my car look like it’s 6'2″\nSmoking on a Vic too, louder than my trunk is\nI’m with Gucci Mane, I let Gucci do the ad-libs\nGetting to that bread, that check, that mula\nWe teach you niggas how to stunt, we tutor the juniors\nEvery day I’m stunting dawg, money ain’t really nothin' dawg\nYa boyfriend riding the bus so you need to ride with us, aww\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)\nI can’t leave that trap alone, he can’t leave that trap alone\nWe can’t leave that trap alone, never gon' leave that trap alone\n(We get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero\nWe get that mula, that bread, that guap, dinero)