ADLT
make u feel sum type a wave
Gucci Mane - Scholar Lyrics - Got Bars 
gotbars lyrics bolded
(actual lyrics in parentheses)
I guess run cool you a game(i could sprinkle you with game) but you just a fukkin' lame
I can put you up on somethin' but you still wouldn't lie or nothin' (wont learn nothin)
You know the game is to be sold man, pull up 'fore you lames might
Can't just give that shyt to you, nikka
I spent half of my life, nikka, sellin' crack cocaine
In this shyt, nikka...
[Verse 1]
I'm a victim of the dope game, I don't like the 9-5
(i dont like to name names)
I don't like the main drop(to name drop), I just like cocaine drop
All I do is drop top, man, I'm so goddamn hot
If you got a old car then go get a new one
If you don't got no scrill(straps) go and get your two guns
Got a bytch so fine with me, she make me wanna do somethin'(want two sons)
I told her baby call me Mr. Never Ever, you's a killer, throwin'(never ever use a coupon)
Baby got that slow tone, my trap like a group home
I'm bad with nikkas but I'm good with bytches
Language of man, sound superstitious
(man gucci mane so superstitious)
I like the riches(rags to riches), no pot to piss in
Three years goin' I ain't seen no Christmas
Six months goin' I ain't seein no drop(drought)
Work do good they don't ever get slow
Puttin' barn doors on all my houses
I'mma put her with all my flows(hardwood on all my floors)
[Hook]
Talk(dog) a bytch, drag a bytch so bad I need a damn cover(collar)
Pill(pimp) nikkas ain't turnin' shyt down but my damn collar
Police wouldn't let me tryna stand here
(runnin at me tryna snatch me) by my damn collar
Gucci Mane ain't never graduate but I'm a trap scholar
[Verse 2]
Hit the club on Clinton Hill(im clean as hell), but yeah I got them 30
(dirty)dollars
Drag a bytch so bad I need a goddamn dog collar
Pull up in three Phantoms like I'm crib flow damn dollars
And if your bytch with me, no need to call, don't even bother
Limpin', screamin', pimpin', turn my trap to a damn brothel
Need these pieces on my Charger, tryna dodge every pothole
You ain't gotta worry bout your bytch 'cause your boys got her
Said she want some dikk, then guess what? She gon' get a whole lotta
Nothin', but I think I need a goddamn rider(el dorado)
If this Rollie keep it rollin', for Wale I holy moly
(if its rollin keep it rollin for i leave ya holy moly)
I'm golden, comin' gold deep(call me goldie)
Can't remember these fukk nikkas, homie
(cant none of these fyck nikkas hold me)
I'm a young nikka but I'm OG
I'm 'bout to turn these to the old me
And no OC, I could OD 'cause I drink so much damn codeine
I'm solo, no company
And these mackin' letters of my homie
(this mac-11 is my homie)
Don't bump,(im up) I ain't talkin 'bout mollies
Have more paint
(im up) talkin' 'bout coffee
I don't give a damn about you, nikka
And don't give a damn about the police
what part of the game is this
gotbars lyrics bolded
(actual lyrics in parentheses)
I guess run cool you a game(i could sprinkle you with game) but you just a fukkin' lame
I can put you up on somethin' but you still wouldn't lie or nothin' (wont learn nothin)
You know the game is to be sold man, pull up 'fore you lames might
Can't just give that shyt to you, nikka
I spent half of my life, nikka, sellin' crack cocaine
In this shyt, nikka...
[Verse 1]
I'm a victim of the dope game, I don't like the 9-5
(i dont like to name names)I don't like the main drop(to name drop), I just like cocaine drop
All I do is drop top, man, I'm so goddamn hot
If you got a old car then go get a new one
If you don't got no scrill(straps) go and get your two guns
Got a bytch so fine with me, she make me wanna do somethin'(want two sons)
I told her baby call me Mr. Never Ever, you's a killer, throwin'(never ever use a coupon)
Baby got that slow tone, my trap like a group home
I'm bad with nikkas but I'm good with bytches
Language of man, sound superstitious
(man gucci mane so superstitious)I like the riches(rags to riches), no pot to piss in
Three years goin' I ain't seen no Christmas
Six months goin' I ain't seein no drop(drought)
Work do good they don't ever get slow
Puttin' barn doors on all my houses
I'mma put her with all my flows(hardwood on all my floors)
[Hook]
Talk(dog) a bytch, drag a bytch so bad I need a damn cover(collar)
Pill(pimp) nikkas ain't turnin' shyt down but my damn collar
Police wouldn't let me tryna stand here
(runnin at me tryna snatch me) by my damn collarGucci Mane ain't never graduate but I'm a trap scholar
[Verse 2]
Hit the club on Clinton Hill(im clean as hell), but yeah I got them 30
(dirty)dollarsDrag a bytch so bad I need a goddamn dog collar
Pull up in three Phantoms like I'm crib flow damn dollars
And if your bytch with me, no need to call, don't even bother
Limpin', screamin', pimpin', turn my trap to a damn brothel
Need these pieces on my Charger, tryna dodge every pothole
You ain't gotta worry bout your bytch 'cause your boys got her
Said she want some dikk, then guess what? She gon' get a whole lotta
Nothin', but I think I need a goddamn rider(el dorado)
If this Rollie keep it rollin', for Wale I holy moly
(if its rollin keep it rollin for i leave ya holy moly) I'm golden, comin' gold deep(call me goldie)
Can't remember these fukk nikkas, homie
(cant none of these fyck nikkas hold me)I'm a young nikka but I'm OG
I'm 'bout to turn these to the old me
And no OC, I could OD 'cause I drink so much damn codeine
I'm solo, no company
And these mackin' letters of my homie
(this mac-11 is my homie)Don't bump,(im up) I ain't talkin 'bout mollies
Have more paint
(im up) talkin' 'bout coffee I don't give a damn about you, nikka
And don't give a damn about the police
what part of the game is this
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