Freddie Gibbs Freestyle | LA Leakers Freestyle #087 lyrics
by Freddie Gibbs
[Verse: Freddie Gibbs]
Type of n*gga cook the birdie for breakfast and throw the fin up
Don't f*ck with Maserati and Lexus I pull the Benz out
My mama birthday comin' I might just get her the Benz truck
I cut off all my motherf*cking losses and put a win up
Kicking like karate that china white in the blender
Send that sh*t to Michigan city and tear the pen up
Mama said the federal prison where I would end up
Attorney like 600 a hour just to defend us
Like "my God"
All a n*gga know is southpaw
I need a b*tch wit' a pretty face, a bank account and a backyard
'Cause now a n*gga swipin' black cards
911‚ black on black‚ it's a black attack I'm the black God
Not a fat n*gga‚ but I been gettin' max cream
Addicts linin' up to get injected like a vaccine
Chopper on me daily it ain't safe to live a rap dream
n*ggas poppin' hella rap cap for the rap cream
Ye's on my phone, Blaze on my phone, Rule's on my phone‚ Gang on my phone, Trae's on my phone
Lamb put me on, Josh put me on‚ Tunechi put me on, Gazi put me on, God put me on
Now I can sit back in my mansion n*gga blastin' my chef
Gettin' it crackin' I'm sippin' 'gnac with a b*tch or two
Cocaine class in my rap, pocket residuals
Rap game easy the trap, game was difficult
House came with cameras and choppers, I got it n*gga proof
VVS's all in my neck, sets invisible
I done took this sh*t from the triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo, whippin' that miracle
Paper over pus*y and power, boy that's the principle
Powder party bachelor pad, bring some b*tches through
I done took this sh*t from the triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo, whippin' that miracle
Kill that sh*t and let it breath b*tch
Youngins 'bout to slide, send emojis with the skis b*tch
Real king of the streets sh*t
Got three books for the 20 Westbrook, rest in peace, Nip
Real king of the street sh*t
The marathon ain't never stopped, you put these n*ggas on they feet, crip
I swear this sh*t it got the street sick
The last supper you might get it from some n*ggas that you eat wit'
Cocaine, whole thang
Freddie Corleone Soprano my whole name
Forgiatos on a pick up, I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord just Stones and Folks, man
Got some n*ggas that ain't never gon' talk on the phone man
Peace to Charlie Mike, I'm thuggin' until you get home man
Forgiatos on a pick up, I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord just Stones and Folks, man, it ain't no game
Finball
Uh, best rapper alive n*gga
It ain't no game