Bugatti – Song and Lyrics by Ace Hood


Discover the poetic beauty in ‘Bugatti’ by Ace Hood. This lyric breakdown takes you on a journey through the artist’s thoughts, emotions, and the story they aim to tell. From clever metaphors to evocative imagery, we delve into the nuances that make this song a lyrical masterpiece. Whether you’re a fan of Ace Hood or a lover of well-crafted words, our detailed analysis will give you a deeper understanding and appreciation of this song.

We the motherf***in’ best n**** (Mike Will Made It)
Ace Hood (yeah)
Its over, Future (yeah)

I come looking for you with Haitians
I stay smoking on good Jamaican
I f*** b****es from different races
You get money they started hating
I woke up in the new Bugatti
I woke up in the new Bugatti
I woke up in the new Bugatti
I woke up in the new Bugatti
I woke up in the new Bugatti

OK, n****s be hatin’ I’m rich as a b****
100 K I spent that on my wrist
Two hundred thou I spent that on your b****
Do me a model put that on my list
Oh there he go in that foreign again
Killin’ the scene bring the coroner in
Murder she wrote, swallow or choke
Hit her and go, I won’t call her again
Woke up early morning, crib as big as a college
Smoke me a pound of the loudest
Whippin’ some s*** with no mileage
Diamonds cost me a fortune
Them horses all in them Porsche’s
You pussies can’t handle, afford it
$4,200 my mortgage
Ballin’ on n****s like Kobe
F*** all you haters you bore me
Only the real get a piece of the plate
Reppin’ my city I’m runnin’ my state
Keep me a pistol then run with the K’s
N****s want beef then I visit ya place, Bang!


Yeah, I’m at it again
There go that flow bringin’ tragedy in
Copped me a chain your salary spent
N****s is sweet, bring them cavities in
Countin’ money, hourly trend
Rolling them skinny like Olsen twins
N****s is squares, cabin Benz
Neck full of Gold Olympian s***
Neimans, I’m blowin the check on the gear
Fall in some p**** then hop on the leer
Strapped with them choppers in back of the rear
Sak pase, them killers is here
Woke up early morning, mind is tellin’ me money
Paper, mula, pockets is fat as a tumour
Millionaire n**** no rumour
Livin’ my life off of tuna
Want it with me, I deliver the beef
Real n****s only enjoyin’ the feast
Pull up a seat, bon appetite
No Louboutin’s when that red on your sneaks, Bang


Photographs of dope boys (I see you)
Is all they taking, finger prints on the Rolls Royce
Is why they hatin’ push a button on these broke boys
That’s detonation, walk a road to riches bare feet
I watch mama struggle now she livin’ care free
That’s why I hustle for that half a key that’s 12 G’s
I’m tryin’ to bubble every summer a new LP
You gotta love me I got shooters out the D-League
Signin’ bonus hit that man that’s from thirty feet
Left in a puddle, finger prints is on a hundred mill
And what it is? Ricky Rozay and Ace Hood
We hella Trill