Freddie Gibbs
Freddie Gibbs - Eastside Moonwalker songtekst
Je score:
[Verse 1] Lifestyles of the insane Eastside thug nigga I’m the shit, you a shit-stain I let the boxframe switch lanes Not a pretty nigga, but I got some game for a bitch brain And I lay it on so thick Charge it all to a broad, heard a pimp nigga quote this And I’m allergic to a broke bitch I think I need my medicine I had to po up before I wrote this And doing dirt will keep a nigga with a deep pocket Dope fiends and the cluckheads keep shopping Steady praying that the yayo keep clocking Keep a strap cuz the jackboys keep robbing Got me pulling up slow Whip another clip and put my pedal to the floor Slammin Cadillac doors, working wood like a pro Ass sit on nothing but that leather, whatcha know How ya livin nigga? Lifestyles of the insane Roll the kill, pop a pill, crack a seal, I resist pain Niggas looking for that big stain Dirt weed, dog food, fine kush, niggas flip caine Think I lost my religion Stepping on a pack, break em off in the kitchen Chevy topped off with the chrome in the engine Niggas gotta floss, that’s the cost of this pimpin I’mma pull up slow [Hook] I’mma pull it up slow Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door I’mma pull it up slow I’mma pull it up slow Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor I’mma pull it up slow I’mma pull it up slow Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor I’mma pull it up slow I’mma pull it up slow Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door I’mma pull it up slow [Verse 2] It’s the money cut moonwalker Nightstalker, motherfuckin white chalker, might’ve caught ya In the streets with your pants down Tell em call the paramedics, nigga man down, ease up If ya thuggin get ya G’s up And never fake, never fraud, never fold, never freeze up A black mask, black tee’d up The motherfuckin dope game feed us, how ya livin nigga? And rest in peace to my motherfuckin homeboy But hold ya tears, he ain’t die, he just a fuckboy You might as well be a dead man in my eyes 2-2-3 sucker free when I ride Freddie Kane, Freddie Corleone Selling thangs to the smokers in the mobile homes A pack of backwoods Dirty styrofoam and a pocket full of stones And my cadillac broham, Ima pull up slow [Hook]