Home Alone Songtext
von Gucci Mane

Old boy, killer cam, trunk full of old boy
Murking fuck boys in the hood like Dope Boy
Oh my good grief damn, who is this guy?
Gucci on them all,
Working with 5 I cut it on the [?]
If it ain′t a fork I can whip it with a wire
You don't got a scale, I can do it with my eye-eye
Couldn′t find a scrap so I whipped him with a tire iron
Egg beater fast, nigga bread do the work [?]
Got your
My worker said 'Wop looked good with a crook hat
Told that bitch to get butt naked when she cooked that
Versace, medusa head, [?] where my fleece at
Told that bitch she might turn to stone if she look
Back
A rapper, a trapper, two hats, my but my head back
Bricks come with four in the pack like a kit kat
Plain Jane, rolling 50 thou, ginger P
Cash out shouldn't of said that, it should′ve been a
Secret


Me and P geekin, please keep a secret
Thug make me mad, he forgot where the weed at
Riding around with two girls
I ain′t talking bout Haiti or Marie
I'm riding around with two boys
I ain′t talking bout Jake or
I'm traffickin′ that ball, that ball like I'm the Edison
Traffickin′, traffickin', traffickin'
Traffickin′ traffickin′, traffickin', that yay
I′m home alone, I'm home alone
I′m home alone and I'm traffickin′, that yayo, yayo,
Yayo
We don't need no motherfucking dope
This bitch beating down the floor
We just bought an Audemar
Gio go, Gio go, Gio go, Gio go, Gio go
Million DK, I'm a slug
I mug every motherfucking club I enter
Gave him 17 5 for the slug, lay em down
Open my mouth saying baby girl enter
I remember when I couldn′t afford a car
I remember when I used to ask for a dog
3 white bitches, molly in the middle
Smoking gas with my thumb in the [?]
Is it gooey, is it bushy, is it [?], did you diss it?
You, YSL, she the [?]
Fool with designer, everything come from Italy
Casper the ghost, I′m on my Forgiatto killing them
Tommy gun out on my tummy, I'm Longway Dillinger
100 round drum my gun, don′t make me spit at you
Hit at you, I murder for fun, you
Booted up on molly, I spray through your ho, you
Throw em out
Don't play with my funds, I make your bitch ass do
The walk it out
Kinda like I′m in a motherfucking Camera
For a couple more I got Longway on Lil Daryl
Two chicks in the trunk of [?] llama, Alcatraz
Bricks [?], VVS's got to stare
Call the squad from Delaware, just book this [?]
Keep changing the color of her hair, she getting
Robbed
Mailman drop off the box, that mean that loud in
Keep some cash out, I′m thugging for dollars
My hermes buckle cost me thousands
If you ain't white chick, bitch don't barter
Cause I ain′t got room for you in my Impala
Pockets on sumo, wore the Rolex other day, now the
Hublot
In Miami got your bitch on the jet skis
Take her to the room and that pussy jet ski
Dirty money in the Swiss account
That money [?] talking like my bitch′s mouth
Had my old bricks at my old bitch's house
Paid her rent full time, then I kicked her out
New plug, hey I got to switch him out
New cars, hey I got to switch em out
80 K for the [?], I could get that that bitch, that bitch,
That bitch
And that bitch, naw mean, turn up in the booty club
All she want is a half inch, fuck it up
Fuck it up, that′s what I do for her
Let your hair blow shit, no roof for her
I'm a dog shit, so you know that I roof for her
If she don′t fuck, then you know that I'm booting her
Who the hell taught you how to fuck, girl, tune it up
I′m leaning, I bet the pot it stay leaning
My pockets, they stay scheming
With the head, they ain't tryna do shit
Tryna double up, two bitches on me
Tell them hoes double up
Head so good, WTF, what the fuck
Hashtag, [?] in the black Jag
Fucked her girlfriend, now she calling me the natnat
TRACK INFO
Featuring: Young Thug, Ca$h Out & PeeWee Longway