Freshman lyrics

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I remember when I was a freshman-
You would think a stylist dressed me
Nooo
You can't tell me nothin’, ‘bout how to dress, b*tch
I'm the freshest n*gga, ever that got fresh, b*tch
Bring some ice, ‘cause I need some ‘refreshments’
My n*gga don't pour nothing, unless a fo’
We get money, b*tch, I didn't mean to stress it…
Don’t come ‘round me, unless you know to dress, b*tch

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
My b*tch dress so fly, man, she so jazzy
Every time you see her, she be smashin'
She class’y than a b*tch, but she get nasty
If I wouldn’t gettin' money I know she'd trash me, damn
I give it to her, she don't gotta ask me
I'm sippin' lean my voice is kinda raspy, uh-uh
Attractive and I met her at the classic
Was passin' kush, but could not let her pass me
You married baby? Hope don't mind me askin'… (Wow)
I told her, “I hate haters with a passion”
Hang wit me, I could put you up on fashion
You fine ass hell, but man, you dress so damn un-fashion
You coordinated too good, you need to try mix match it
I got that acrobatic pack, I swear, I do gymnastics
She told me, “f*ck that sh*t, cause baby I’m acrobatic-
And I can suck that di*k backwards, you know you like that”
Wop
[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I remember when I was a freshman-
You would think a stylist dressed me
Nooo
You can't tell me nothin’, ‘bout how to dress, b*tch
I'm the freshest n*gga, ever that got fresh, b*tch
Bring some ice, ‘cause I need some ‘refreshments’
My n*gga don't pour nothing, unless a fo’
We get money, b*tch, I didn't mean to stress it…
Don’t come ‘round me, unless you know to dress, b*tch

[Verse 2: Peewee Longway]
Fly kid, b*tches love to see me, in fly kicks
Rockin' Tom Ford, hoes stand in line for my Concord
The teacher love to see me come and write on the chalk board
Draped up from head to toe, designer and diamonds
Hoes got a crush on a player, ear-to-ear smilin'-
At a dope boy freshman, in a BBC letterman
Ferragamo buckle, Versace, Medusa, Sicily
Louis Vuitton Duffle, 100k nothin' but Benji's in it
I'mma f*ckin' freshman, in the same car, the principle in
OG bags bunkin', I'mma go’n throw the Forgi’s on it
Bunkin' out the locker, all the hoes say they goin' for me
‘Bond Number 9’, they say, ‘they love that aroma on me’

[Chorus: Gucci Mane]
I remember when I was a freshman-
You would think a stylist dressed me
Nooo
You can't tell me nothin’, ‘bout how to dress, b*tch
I'm the freshest n*gga, ever that got fresh, b*tch
Bring some ice, ‘cause I need some ‘refreshments’
My n*gga don't pour nothing, unless a fo’
We get money, b*tch, I didn't mean to stress it…
Don’t come ‘round me, unless you know to dress, b*tch
[Outro]
Yeah, b*tch
It’s funny how times change
Back in the day, a n*gga didn’t have nothing
At first, a muf*ckin’ freshman, n*gga
You’n want give a n*gga no pus*y
You was a senior
You was fine, but look at you now, b*tch
You got a thousand children
Wit’ a thousand baby daddy’s
I’m riding clean, I’m driving good
We riding good, we f*cking good
You dirty, bad body, b*tch!
b*tch, you built up like a BMW
Your body made wrong…
b*tch you got a Gulla!
You’n know what a Gulla is?
That’s that sh*t up under your stomach
‘Fore it get to your pus*y, b*tch
Get some clothes on…
Everybody can’t wear spandex
And your one of them motherf*ckers
‘Cause b*tch, you look like the Michelin Man
You look like a motherf*ckin invertebrates circus
You look like the motherf*cker that ride on that ball
*Doot, doot, doota, doot*
You clown lookin motherf*cker!
All that makeup, hoe, ya’ old
One thang about it, two thing for sure
Come get you some money, man
We’ll buy that pus*y, just for the hell of it, let you get some’n
‘Cause you ain’t really got sh*t
Big’n hoe, eat you some Ramen noodles
Put some Bologna in it, b*tch
And call yourself a muf*ckin’ player
b*tch, we eatin’ steak and shrimp
Gettin’ our di*ks sucked