Текст песни Dead People (feat. Raury) - Gucci Mane , Raury
I
got
a
pocket
full
of
dead
people
Evil
voices
in
my
head
tellin'
me
go
get
this
bread
Got
a
pocket
full
of
dead
people
Evil
voices
in
my
head
tellin'
me
to
get
this
bread
Got
a
pocket
full
of
dead
guys
Evil
voices
in
my
head
tellin'
me
to
watch
the
feds
And
I
love
sellin'
cake
pies
It's
a
bad
bitch
in
my
bed
and
she
got
that
stupid
head
Got
me
Versace,
shop,
shawty,
catch
me
walkin'
out
of
5ths
With
a
lit
Glock
40
and
a
couple
extra
clips
Lenox
Mall
in
the
closet,
all
my
hoes
exotic
And
ain't
that
shit
ironic
that
my
doors
go
up,
robotic?
I
can
walk
the
shit
and
I
can
talk
the
shit
I
can
talk
the
shit
cause
I
got
it
It's
Gucci
Mane,
I'm
a
walkin'
lick
Got
dead
people
in
my
pocket
Fallin'
off
in
Follie's,
got
a
bag
full
of
the
mollies
A
half
a
mil'
off
profit,
and
my
[
I've
been
livin'
like
a
king
all
week
I'm
a
peasant
at
the
end
of
every
day
I've
been
chillin'
with
my
niggas
in
the
streets
Livin'
like
a
vagabond,
wild,
free,
run
away
Reminiscin'
'bout
them
bored
summer
days
Blowin'
haze
on
the
east
side
of
Atlanta
Makin'
moves
on
the
shawty,
a
Hispania
We
don't
speak
the
same
language
so
excuse
me
if
I
stammer
I
understand
you
wanna
pick
up
the
hammer
And
build
up
your
own,
she
see
her
brother
climbin'
the
ladder
It's
your
time,
yeah
it's
somethin'
that
you
figure
I
mean
you
can
do
it
too
but
you
can't
be
a
bitch
ass
nigga
Get
up
off
your
ass,
find
a
fuckin'
craft
Make
bread,
get
it
back,
give
it
back
times
2
Who
are
you?
Look
in
the
mirror
Don't
give
a
fuck
what
they
think,
you're
the
one,
you're
the
truth
Got
the
juice,
got
the
juice,
got
the
juice,
got
the
juice
Mothafucka
you
the
man
like
an
8th
grade
Jew
You
can
chew
through
any
zebra
ass
in
the
zoo
Any
nigga
tryna
act
hard
as
some
leather
boots,
fuck
them
And
anyone
tryna
step
on
you,
fire
burnin'
Make
a
livin',
stack
a
sum
and
watch
your
paper
Now
and
later
ain't
really
good
time
For
a
nigga
'bout
his
business
on
Wood
Crest
Manor
X2
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