[Intro]
Yeah, yeah
Nigga just, you know what I'm sayin’, the king of, you know
King of talkin' shit
Yeah, yeah
(You don't know how far, you don’t know how much, you don't go, when you fuckin' with the blow)
Yeah, we goin'
Yeah, yeah yeah

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Choppa style, chop chop, choppa style
Shout to Ghazi, Arabic numbers in my Rollie dial
My baby said if I be faithful, she gone hold me down (Real shit)
I'm fuckin' these hoes, I want it all like an only child
About to take a trip, I got coke and dope on my grocery list
Oxycontin pack, I be switchin' rackets like Djokovic
Stood up on my demon, the machine ain't never promoted this
Coldest nigga you ever heard on Alan or Otis shit
(And you know this shit)
Bitch, it’s liquid golden when I’m over shit (Yeah)
I fill up the track like a Mr. T starter kit, spit the hardest shit
I should grow a motherfuckin' mohawk and get a black van with a red stripe
Nigga say I got ’em for his weight, I shot him in his face
That pussy boy was dead right (Dead right)
It's just a freestyle, let a nigga breathe
I don't know what's worse
To have the IRS or have your baby mamas in a nigga’s cheese
Had to cut a couple bitches off
I guess they used to think that they was out a nigga league
Ghostface, I got ice cream
Russian, Puerto Rican, Black and Blackanese
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