Gucci Mane — Fucking Off lyrics

The page contains the lyrics of the song "Fucking Off" by Gucci Mane.

Lyrics

She call my phone talkin' 'bout I’m fucking off, but she pro’ly the one that’s
fucking off
Don’t call my phone talkin' 'bout I’m fucking off, when you the one that’s
pro’ly fucking off
She call me talkin' 'bout I’m fucking off, but she the one that’s pro’ly
fucking off
Don’t call my phone talkin' 'bout I’m fucking off, cause you the one that’s
pro’ly fucking off
At K.O.D., 50 I’m fucking off
It’s me, Birdman, Weezy, Scooter and Ross
Now my girl said that I can’t come to the house, she let me in but made me
sleep straight on the couch
Man I stay outta town, man I go in and out
Yo' friends they stay in our business, they need to hush, I’m out
Bank account pregnant again, we need a bigger house
I’m making euros I might put 'em in a Swiss account
My girl still trippin', I said, «What's wrong wit' you?»
I told her I’m wit' Gucci tryna bus'-a-move
She think I’m here wit' Nicki, I say, «Girl you lyin'»
Cause I just got my potatoes and them chickens frying
I know that you fucking off, girl I know you messy
You got on that rachet shit cause you gettin' dressy
Dressed up for nothin' cause you hit my phone
All yo' partners rachet, all of them give dome
All of them be smokin', all of them be ridin'
All of them be doin' trains, you know they be collidin'
Me and my nigga smokin' in the back of the valley slidin'
So I seen another bitch, and I told her, «Let's ride»
Damn she don’t got no weed, she don’t got no fit on tight, and she ain’t got
her weave
She don’t understand this boy right here be 'bout his steez
So I told her hit them streets, then she understood me