Gucci Mane’s latest lyrical chronicle is like a flashy race through the high-speed lanes of opulence and hustle. Bursting through the verses, he paints a vivid haute couture portrait of his journey from the gritty street corners to the executive suites, mixing witty brags with a slice of life from the top. Ex-cons and certified junkies morph into company kings, while broke minds are left playing catch up in his taillights. Gucci revels in his hot flow and fast cars, sprinkling in commas and racks like confetti. The scenery changes, but the money chase stays relentless and unabashed, with a hint of parody on the idleness of others trying to compete. Time sure flies when you're riding Lambos and making stacks! #LuxuryLife #MoneyChase
Time Flies By
Lyrics
Zee
Drip
Money
Gucci
Zay
Evil Genius
Yeah
(Zaytoven)
Time flies by when you really gettin' money (money)
Nigga tryna keep up with me, really gettin' funny (catch up)
Ex-con, drug don, certified junkie (yeah)
Was a corner boy until I bought the whole company (Wop)
Flow so hot, made me put the bomb up (hot, hot, hot)
'Rari so fast, 12 stuck his thumb up
Broke bitch see me, probably thinkin' come up (yeah)
Racks on a platter, watch them bitches go up (up)
Penthouse, top floor, kingpin status
Igloo, Eskimo, iceberg lettuce
Niggas not sellin' so they gettin' more petty
But I'm countin' up a milli' while my neck gettin' tatted (Wop)
Every broke bitch got a rich man fetish
Money ain't shit, let a broke trick tell it (true)
If the green right, then Gucci might chef it
Whale shark, white meat, rich man sell it
Ridin' in a Lamb' with a big ol' motor
Keep a young nigga with a big ol' poker
See your nigga, I don't see these jokers
Keep a thick hoe with deep ol' throater
Deep ol' pockets, I can Deeebo the block
Her eyeballs locked on that million dollar watch
Foot on they neck all motharfuckin' winter(brrr)
Feelin' like Obama when I'm jumpin' out the Sprinter (Wop)
Time flies by when you really gettin' money (money)
Nigga tryna keep up with me, really gettin' funny (catch up)
Ex-con, drug don, certified junkie (lean)
Was a corner boy until I bought the whole company (Damn)
Flow so hot, made me put the bomb up (hot, hot, hot)
'Rari so fast, 12 stuck his thumb up (fuck 'em)
Broke bitch see me, probably thinkin' come up (yeah)
Racks on a platter, watch them bitches go up (Wop)
Writer(s): Xavier Dotson, Radric Davis
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Ultra Tunes, Universal Music Publishing Group
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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