Bomb (feat. Raekwon)

Yeah

Yeah

Yeah

Slick

Drugs got me waking up in cold sweats

Sometimes I'm slightly off my rocker, but I'm on deck

Got two and a baby, on my bitches student loans check

She hit my line to get that girl, I call in phone sex

Robbing like my problems ain't gon' catch up to me later

Bitch, I'm mobbing like OG Bobby Johnson, split your potato

At the table cooking, shaving and touching base with them bases

Bet that try to make a play for the yay as soon as they taste it

They evasive black American gangsta

Sinister corner hugger

Seeing this **** shine been annoying me like a motherfucker

This buster owe me, now he act like he don't know me

Forty-four my closest homie

Kill cock-a-roaches like Tony

Got Montana motives

Newport one hundreds if you're fluent

Yo, I had to smoke it

Pupils dilated like silver dollars

Now we locing

Call it devilish how I do biz

Fuck these **** talking, I'll leave they thoughts on my shoe strings

What?

Uh

Yeah

For sure

Yeah

Rolling

Pockets on swollen

Set the record straight, that F and H is what I'm holding

The buster that we know got fifty bowls, bust it open

We came bandana-ed up, divide it up, now what's the quotient

I split with four ****

Since I'm a go-getter

I think these suckers pussy, I' ma murk the whole litter

Told my girl to leave as soon as I hung up the phone with her

Man, I heard you robbing robbers, lil' Freddie a cold ****

Got a ice maker for a heart, made **** from the start

Life is like a movie, all I did was play my fucking part

Cheffing up the crack, the heroin and weed, a la carte

I call it Fast Freddie's

I should own a fucking restaurant cause back when I was twelve

Threw some bales on a scale and I got a pager

We broke 'em down and started selling nickels to the neighbors

Eventually the penitentiary gon' see me later

Kiss my mama, told her if I die, then it was part of nature

What?

Twenty-eight days later, we all getting 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 living tough times with rough pleathers

A gorgeous watch

A team on a dreadful level, yo

Yeah, we still getting money, right

Long as the sun come out, I'll hold these money's tight

Getting fresh, just cooling, my bitch on my dick

But Boo, yo, you live with your mom's, just get a grip

Clip in my pocket, a rocket, I think of the dips

I need jewels and gems with rough flicks

Trips to Africa, shorty ten sacks up

I'm out in Bombay, rebels here, acting up

We real, all G's, seventy-five hundred of us

Up in the sprinter bus, fussing, we need more heat