Bomb

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Slammin'!
Drugs got me wakin' up in cold sweats,
Sometimes I'm slightly off my rocker, but I'm on deck,
Got two and a baby off my bitch's student loan check,
She hit my line to get that girl, I call it phone sex.
Robbin' like my problems ain't gon catch up to me later,
Bitch, I'm mobbin' like OG Bobby Johnson, split your potato,
At the table cookin', shavin' and touchin' base with them basers,
Bet they try to make a play for the yay as soon as they taste it.
The evasive black american gangster, sinister, corner her,
‘Cause seein' this nigga shine been annoyin' me like a mothafucka,
This busta owe me, now he act like he don't know me,
Forty-four my closest homie, kill cockroaches like Tony.
Got Montana money,
Newport 100 dipped in fluid, yo, I had to smoke it,
Pupils dilated like silver dollars, now we locin',
Call it devilish how I do, bitch,
Fuck these niggas talking, I leave they thoughts on my shoestrings,
What?!

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Rollin',
Pockets all swollen,
Set the record straight, that FNH is what I'm holdin'.
A busta that we know got 15 bows, bust it open,
We came bandana'd up, divide it up, now what's the quotient?
A split with four niggas, since I'm a go-getter,
I think these suckers pussy, I'ma merk the whole litter,
Told my girl to leave as soon as I hung up the phone with her,
Man, I heard you rob the robbers, look, Freddie a cold nigga!
Got an ice maker for a heart, made nigga from the start,
Life is like a movie, all I did was play my fuckin' part,
Cheffin' up the crack, the heroin, and the weed a la carte,
I call it Fast Freddie's, I should own a fuckin' restaurant.
‘Cause back when I was 12, threw some bells on a scale and I got a pager,
We broke them down and started sellin' nickels to the neighbors,
Eventually the penitentiary gon' see me later,
Kiss my momma, told her if I die, then it was part of nature,
What?!

[Verse 3: Raekwon]
Twenty-eight days later we all gettin' fresh,
Got the heart to die for something, flesh to flesh.
The Lambo, got her outside, it's a stretch,
My bitch half Mexican/Afghan, I'm blessed.
From livin' tough times with rough lemons, a gorgeous watch,
My team on a dreadful level, yo!
Yeah, we still gettin' money right,
Long as the sun come out, I'll hold these twenties tight.
Gettin' fresh, just coolin', my bitch on my dick,
Ba-boom, yo! You live with your moms, just get a grip.
Clip in my pocket, my rocket,
I think of the Dips, I need Juelz and Jims with rough licks.
Trips to Africa, shorty tear Saks up,
I'm out in Bombay, rebels here actin' up,
We real, all G, seven-five hundred of us,
Up in the Sprinter bus, fussin', "We need more heat."