All These b*tches lyrics

[Intro: Chief Keef]
I got hard di*k for all these b*tches
I get all their numbers, I don’t call these b*tches
No patience for relations, kiss my 'Rari b*tches
n*ggas don’t know us, we never saw these n*ggas

[Verse 1: Gucci Mane]
I got V12 sittin' on rims and I parked the bull back in my Benz
Got a FN with a seatbelt strapped on it 'cause it's my friend
Breaking bricks down in my den, I got bills stacked to my chin
Diamond jeans cost an M&M, why? So bright cut off a limb
Look at me then look at him
Hard top Bentley, Bentley rims
f*cked two sisters, wet the crib
In a drop top dunk, I broke the rims
Back to back b*tch, call them twins
Got a hard top X and a drop top M
Call me Iceberg Slim, can’t f*ck with him
2K on weed, hell, that’s a deal
5K on lean, I'm leanin' now
Drunk two whole pints, I'm dreaming now
Your girlfriends a semen demon
Big Guwop she screaming out
Drop top 'Rari showing cleavage, I'm on Cleveland, call it Bleveland
Knocked your b*tch, don’t need no reason
Take my b*tch then call it even
[Chorus: Chief Keef]
I got hard di*k for all these b*tches
I get all their numbers, I don’t call these b*tches
No patience for relations, kiss my 'Rari b*tches
n*ggas don’t know us, we never saw these n*ggas
You can hold this 30 out this 40 n*gga
You die, you hit Forgis, that's on Shawty, n*gga
We don’t trust these b*tches or these n*ggas
Got the big face Rollies 40 pointers, n*gga

[Verse 2: OJ da Juiceman]
n*gga tried to knock me off
But these n*ggas extra soft
How the hell you just start robbing? Come and try and test a boss
Played the hand that I was dealt
40 make you patty melt
I don’t send no n*ggas, dawg, I do that sh*t by myself
Co-defendant that's a no
Can’t have that sh*t fly in court
One thing about Young Juice, my n*ggas spot a pus*y like a scope
Since you pus*y, I'ma send these hollow tips down your throat
Killer-killer, murder-murder, flip that n*gga like a burger
I don’t shoot for legs so you know ain't no 'tempted murder
And Young Juiceman stay with fire
Make me put you on a burner
Smoke you like a cancer stick
Make your mom them a loner
Talking all that tough talk but your ass know you baloney
Born to go to war, man you got me talking like I'm Kony
[Chorus: Chief Keef]
I got hard di*k for all these b*tches
I get all their numbers, I don’t call these b*tches
No patience for relations, kiss my 'Rari b*tches
n*ggas don’t know us, we never saw these n*ggas
You can hold this 30 out this 40 n*gga
You die, you hit Forgis, that's on Shawty, n*gga
We don’t trust these b*tches or these n*ggas
Got the big face Rollies 40 pointers, n*gga