Str8 Slammin’ lyrics

by

DOM KENNEDY


[Intro: Freddie Gibbs]
Yeah
A n*gga out here clocking cash (Yeah)
Can you picture a n*gga out here clocking cash? (Picture me rolling, rolling, rolling)
Can you picture a n*gga out here clocking cash? (Picture me rolling, rolling, rolling)
Can you picture a n*gga?
Yeah

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n*gga out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n*ggas and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and f*cking hoes, we on the same sh*t
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Nah
G.I. thugging (Yeah), can you picture this Midwest n*gga rollin'?
Hardrock hustling (Yeah), b*tch stick to the di*k 'cause you know a n*gga holding
Living on some pimp sh*t, I'ma let y'all chase hoes, I'ma get chosen
Keep a b*tch di*k whipped, got a whole lot of broads that'll bust that open
Fresh up off a straight dope stain, I know my clothes still smell like cocaine
The real n*ggas understand, I ain't trying to be the man, if you put it in my hands, it'll go, man
I keep a whole thing or better pushed to the side
Got like thirty-two bales of Bubba Kush in the ride (Yeah)
If you wanna get high, all drugs I provide
Getting my thug on where I reside
n*gga been bust at, still I survive (Yeah)
Pushed packs and I lived to tell it in my raps (Uh)
Lost a couple homies, I could never get 'em back (Yeah)
Life got me stressed, so I'm twisting up a sack
I'm street certified, n*gga, check my stats
Back up to the wall 'cause I'm coming up to bat
And these little n*ggas said they got racks on racks
So the stick up man had to put the tax on the tax, God damn
[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n*gga out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n*ggas and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and f*cking hoes, we on the same sh*t
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'

[Verse 2: Juicy J]
f*ck what I'm worth, still out here on the grind, trying to stack racks (Mhm)
Racks on racks, never caught slipping, n*gga get wrong, that's a toe tag (Mhm)
f*cks with the hood, still eating good, hanging with the killers with the black masks (Mhm)
They will kidnap your wife and kids (Get 'em), you n*ggas don't want that (Mhm)
Do what we gotta do to make it, hope them jackers won't take it (Mhm)
If a n*gga violate me out here, my young n*ggas gon' erase him (Mhm)
I don't fight over no b*tches but I kill for bread (Mhm)
And I don't hang out with no n*ggas that sleep with feds (Mhm)
Ride down on your block with that chopper, let that b*tch go (Mhm, blaow)
If you trying to open shop up, that sh*t closed (Mhm, it's closed)
Money and the power, what we hustle for (Mhm, we hungry)
We already run your house, ain't no kicking doors (Blaow, blaow, blaow, mhm)

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n*gga out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n*ggas and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and f*cking hoes, we on the same sh*t
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'
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