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freddie gibbs & madlib - piñata كلمات الأغنية

[produced by madlib]

[verse 1: domo genesis]
live like 9-5, i rhyme and come alive
my grind divides fine through my divine eyes
it’s primetime, you wish you could buy time but it’s my time
thoughts against i, blasphemy, it’s like a vice crime
i roll ’em thick and i ignite mines
i don’t even get high, i just get equally back in my right mind
i’m getting lethal with these nice lines, creeping through your speakers
catch you sleeping like a thief off in the night time
young doms, none of you n-ggas correspond, b-tch
kick the f-ck out of the track on some jean-claude sh-t
get the f-ck out of the streets, n-gga, i bomb sh-t
sh-t ain’t all good no more, y’all on your con sh-t
f-ck is your conscience? testing me is nonsense
the whole city is mine, i’m the best off in my conference
ain’t feeling me? fine, ain’t gotta listen to my sh-t
you can hear about me from the critics all on my d-ck

[verse 2: freddie gibbs]
b-tch, i’ve been thuggin’ since the motherf-ckin’ ten-speed
redbone on my handlebars, i like my b-tches mixed-breed
fill a philly t-tan with a twenty sack of stress weed
educated, at the stove i’m working recipes
reputation say i’m robbin’ just for recreation
revive my enemy with gun-to-mouth resuscitation
can’t wait ’til this little p-ssy n-gga pay me, i’m impatient
let’s go kick in they door and strip ’em naked, leave ’em stinking
no witness, no weapon, my n-gga, the case is over
the reaper sn-tched him, closed casket, his family need some closure
and moses had ten commandments, huey had ten points
won’t see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint
staring at my future in my rear-view
family cried some tears, i got some years, it ain’t no issue
mama where the tissue? saw her breaking down, she just might cry a river
murder one, she can’t believe she raised that type of n-gga

[verse 3: g-wiz]
i tried to do right, but it only got your boy f-cked in the game
so i changed my mind, now i’m back on this grind tryna get this change
n-ggas hate to see me getting it, travelling packs with a red dot
pointed at your knot, trying to get what you got
when the rain and the pain gon’ stop?
standing on the porch early, no shoes, selling blow in my socks
and i was watching for the ghetto bird
ain’t got no money for college so all i know is how to sack and how to serve
i be d-mned if i miss another l!ck for the chips
got me stacking, almost splurging on weed, syrup and whips
n-ggas around my way be loving it, i’m cadillac-in’
blowing good alligators with the belts to match
i got an ounce with an ounce to match, bust it down, get back
hopefully maybe get the clique out the trap
i need dough like a bread baker
24/7, got ready on the turf, player
all day

[verse 4: casey veggies]
make ’em hop in the new coupe
n-ggas been winning, that ain’t nothing new
forgive me for the sinning that they be doing in this business
not using their words to express truth
out in the streets with a screw loose
on the westside i got the juice
just tell me what you trying to do
she loving the crew and ain’t f-cking with you
i go where the hood n-ggas get into it
i go where the bad girls go shop
every window tinted but the rooftop
that money i just spend it to get you shot
can they be hating? they got no reason
right where they got me, the place i delete ’em
we kicking on weaklings just for they little secrets
i can’t believe it, the sh-t that i’m seeing
i’m hearing they words, doing my reading
it’s really absurd, not enough leaders
the sh-t that they feed you, it’s just what you eating
they call me young veggies, i make it go green
uhh, i smash your whole team, the f-ck is you saying?
you got the candies, the n-ggas is spraying
to get away and take over the land, yeah

[verse 5: sulaiman]
my mind on capital, i’m not just rapping, dude
i’m out to speak actual factual, watch how a master moves
you ball a fist, what that gon do? i’m from a city clapping fools
you off the t-t lacking while watching me fashion stools
sh-tting styles, you never had a hotline that i didn’t dial
little princes always trying to fit a bigger crown
but don’t forget i sit amidst some seasoned gents
them b-tches knowing he a pimp ain’t even need to read the blimp (it was a good day)
good day to o’shea, a death certificate for anyone who lay in my way
you best revisit all the tombstones that lay in my wake
me being knowledge, be honest
you seen the prophet get sacrificed by the opps
it get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing
residue on piñatas, wonder what’s up inside of ’em
it’s sure ain’t no vicodin cause it up and excited ’em
but they ain’t get high enough, if you ain’t succeed, n-gga
buy again and try again

[verse 6: meechy darko]
it’s the irrational type of n-gga to john madden tackle you
steal your car keys and crash your coupe in the botanical
wrap you with shackles, tangle you, pull from every angle, dismantle you
watch your blood mixed with mud and stain the gravel too
grab and shoot, ribcage open like a parachute
close range, switchblade, poke ’em if it’s personal
blood stains, gold fangs, mask on, no trace
murder one, closed case, stolen whip, no plates
half a body in the trunk—go to prison? no way
speed off the brooklyn bridge before i catch a cold case
realize i’m the voice, for those who do not have a voice
so i voice my f-cking voice, i don’t have a f-cking choice
cold blooded, leave some n-ggas, well i hope you got insurance
shotgun and shorty lift ’em like the potent in my joint
barrels smoking like red auerbach
still can’t believe i’m getting fed on rap
i don’t know what’s louder, the pack or the gat

[verse 7: mac miller]
my endorphins are morphin’, absorbin’ energy
original copy, “a tale of two cities” gets read to me
reading emerson novels, eating some belgian waffles
some powder go up my nostrils, my d-ck going down her tonsils
what’s up? play with an abacus, i’ve been stressing like catholics
that’s the sh-t, a bit of that happiness in my cup
this generation corrupt, these people brainwashed with evil
my music is more cerebral, exploring just what you need to
so this your exodus, church of the methodist
beating up the p-ssy, have her screaming like a exorcist
ahhhhhh
absorb it through your pores, the lord with h-rns, a world war
wh0r-s are more hors d’oeuvres when it’s a world tour
o’doyle rules

[outro]

- freddie gibbs madlib

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