[Produced by: Madlib]
[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Uh, Lebron number nine
I guess whenever she ain’t on my dick, I’m on her mind
It's quite cliche to just say that I'm on my grind
And phone conversations ain't substitution for time in another city
Reminisce on days when I ain't have a fucking penny
These groupie bitches in this game wasn't fucking with me
Couldn't get a dollar for a rap show
Got a gun, a ski mask and a half an ounce of crack, though
Slammin', in the pizza shop with Jacque
Last dollar on a slice, this contraband in my sock, wish you knew the feeling
We're both so different, but our situations so appealing
Now I can't make it without you girl, you my new religion
And every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Uh, said every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Gibbs, uh
[Chorus: BJ The Chicago Kid]
We still socking
Glock is still popping
Paper still dropping
Lord, it ain't stopping
Girl, I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
Yeah, the blocks still cracking, and girl, know what I'm packing
And if you pop off, you gon' know what I'm jacking
But I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Uh, Lebron number nine
I guess whenever she ain’t on my dick, I’m on her mind
It's quite cliche to just say that I'm on my grind
And phone conversations ain't substitution for time in another city
Reminisce on days when I ain't have a fucking penny
These groupie bitches in this game wasn't fucking with me
Couldn't get a dollar for a rap show
Got a gun, a ski mask and a half an ounce of crack, though
Slammin', in the pizza shop with Jacque
Last dollar on a slice, this contraband in my sock, wish you knew the feeling
We're both so different, but our situations so appealing
Now I can't make it without you girl, you my new religion
And every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Uh, said every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change
Gibbs, uh
[Chorus: BJ The Chicago Kid]
We still socking
Glock is still popping
Paper still dropping
Lord, it ain't stopping
Girl, I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
Yeah, the blocks still cracking, and girl, know what I'm packing
And if you pop off, you gon' know what I'm jacking
But I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper
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