Fold Dat Money Up
Fold Dat Money Up

Gucci Mane ft. Project Pat - Fold Dat Money Up Lyrics

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Fold Dat Money Up Music Video

Fold Dat Money Up Lyrics

This a vibe, man
Gucci Mane, they say you're crazy, I understand (it's Guwop)
Only one way to go is up
Heads up at all times
Mr. East Atlanta, haan
Yeah, haan
They call me Fiji water
Haha, burr
(Mike WiLL on the beat)
Evil Genius, contemplatin', haan, haan (burr)

When the club close, when the hoes go
Fold that money up, fold that money up
When the dope go out the dope-hole
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Hit a lick, sell a brick, fold that money up
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up

I was a jit full of shit tryna sell a brick (haan)
Just a knucklehead nigga from the projects (han)
Niggas sleepin' on me, they kept sendin' death threats
Like that Gucci Mane can't come in with a slick left (shh)
Man, I was jabbin' with the right, man, my whole life
They said that, "Gucci Mane, you're crazy, uncircumcised" (haha)
I whip that dick off on that bitch, she said, "Surprise, ho" (yeah)
I said, "I'm thinkin' so crazy, I got a mastermind" (Wizzop)
I got so much money, my money doin' backflips
I made it flip again and then it made me happy
I made an Elliot today, they call it trappin'
I might just smile, I'm your dog, fashion (haha)
I put the Atlantic on my skin, did that shit again
The Evil Genius, you can't touch me, not even kick my shin
They say, "Doc, what's goin' on in your dirty mind?"
That bitch so fine, when she doin' all the time
You saw them bring her out, what's this going on?
My money long, long, long, long, real long (long)
My money longer than the adlibs on every song (burr)
My money, it got it goin' on (yeah)

When the club close, when the hoes go
Fold that money up, fold that money up
When the dope go out the dope-hole
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Hit a lick, sell a brick, fold that money up
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up (Patta)

I grew up inner-city side of towner (oh)
Get me out the mud, tag, bitch, what held me down, sir (oh)
Me and my niggas in the trap pound-for-pounder
Keep your head above water, fuck that, I'm a founder (fuck that)
These hoes down here legs open, pussy drown ya (swish)
Was always pullin' guns on them niggas who wasn't from 'round here
Runnin' off with funds, AK drum, that's an out-of-bounder (damn)
Have your moms in a black dress puttin' you in the ground, sir
Your baby mama head was so good, had to crown her
Weed you was smokin', it make no noise, mines louder (loud)
So much drip, drip, drip, drip, money flip, flip, flip
All the designer on me pimpin', your girl mouth dick stick (ooh)

When the club close, when the hoes go
Fold that money up, fold that money up
When the dope go out the dope-hole
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Hit a lick, sell a brick, fold that money up
Fold that money up, fold that money up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up
Tryna stack my money 'til I can't fold it up

Writer(s): Radric Davis, Patrick Houston
Copyright(s): Lyrics © TuneCore Inc., BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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