Lyrics Freddie Gibbs – BFK

Hook: x2
East side niggas stay bout it
West side niggas stay bout it
North side niggas stay bout it

Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs
G.I. niggas stay bout it
Take a nigga life don’t doubt it
Church and the liquor store crowded
911 is a joke don’t dial it
We ain’t really trippin’ when the money stay pilin’
Money comin slow then mothafuckas get violent
I just want a crib and a coupe low mileage
Gon’ hustle dope with a yellow bone stallion
So high, and niggas wanna know why I, ride
With semi automatic by my, side
Cause I got niggas comin at my, head
But I won’t let them bitches stop my, bread
A mothafucka wanna show my, dough
I hit him twice with the black fo-fo
The witness, courtroom don’t, show
And what a nigga don’t know, won’t, go
‘Dro hoes in the dope game major
On the front page magazine, no label
Industry don’t want ’em cause the niggas too gangsta
Probably never heard em on ya radio station
Way too thug for these mothafuckin’ raps
Rap way better then ya neighbourhood trap
Man came down on the uppity bitch
I be fuckin’ the bitch, let my niggas smash right after

Hook x2

Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs
Yea, I ain’t got time for these bitches
Ain’t gotta dime for these bitches
Breakin’ it down for 3 bitches
Duffle stuffed with 3 6’s
Heat under the pillow, I sleep with’ my Mrs
And I’m havin’ dreams that’s bigger than 6 digits
Nickels while I rest, possessed to whip chickens
Livin’ though you addicted, to hit the next shipment
So high, and niggas wanna know why I, ride
With semi automatic by my, side
I need a nigga that’s fosho gon’ bust
And really I’m the only nigga I, trust
And really I’m the only nigga that, cold
New shoes, cadillac on, fo’s
Shine for the dimes and the rat, hoes
Check a pack, write a rap, crack, sold
And my trunk leave cracks in the pavement
Chevy only carry heavy weight, gon’ save ’em
Just another victim of the game, can you blame ’em
And he stay paid, can’t a lame nigga fade ’em
And most of you niggas in the rap game dick blowers
But at the end of the day, don’t get shit for it
But me and mine’s gotta eat, so I’m beatin’ up the street
Dinner time, man, I gotta hit a lick for it
Send ’em to God, tryna rob the godfather
And if you scared of catchin’ a murder then why bother
I’m peelin’ off a knock for pots of hot water
Niggas wrote me off and it made me grind harder
Peace to the East, nigga peace to the chief
Got a slug for the judge, bringin’ heat for police
And a book full of sins that I read when I sleep
Then I wake up ‘n I put ’em on a beat, how you love that?

Hook x4