$500 Ounces Westside Gunn (Ft. Freddie Gibbs & Roc Marciano)

[Intro: Freddie Gibbs]
Yeah, yeah, Kane train
Uh, mic check, check
Yeah, mic check, check
Uh, yeah, yeah, mic check, check
Yeah, uh, uh, mic check, check
Yeah, uh, nigga, check, check
Yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
It's been a long time since I tasted
Workin' that hot plate, cookin' in my homeboy basement
And Lambo knocked the coke off the table, that nigga wasted
I showed him the new straps, the AK with the green laser (Bing, bing, bing)
I'm on some street shit, my baby mama tweet shit to stir up my haters
I'm like, "Why she wanna stick me for my paper?"
But fuck it, that's life, it's what you make it, one day you gon' meet your maker
Kobe died, I swear a nigga might cry when I watch the Lakers, damn
All our mamas would watch us, boy, we was neighbors
But how you look a nigga mom in the face when you shot her baby? (Bow)
I got skeletons in my closet, right next to Balenciaga
Call me Fred DiBiase, garage is a million dollars, my nogga
Yeah, it's just the way that God be plannin' shit
I drop a load, I take a load off, that's load management
At Last Lap, I dropped the ho off and bagged a Spanish bitch
Pulled out the dick, she snort the coke off, I'm livin' lavishly