Freddie Gibbs - Vice Lord Poetry (Champagne Poetry Freestyle)

● LYRICS●
Pretty little, pre-
Your lie, lie (Yeah, uh, yeah)

[Verse: Freddie Gibbs & Benny The Butcher]
I was just f***ing them girls, I was gon' get right back
I had a line on that soft, I was gon' switch it to crack
I stuck to tires like I'm fixing a flat, swimming through racks
Cooked my first zip, lost six, brought twenty-two back
Bitch, what you trippin' on?
Just sold a brick, still down to whip a song
I don't even fuck with the dawg, straight cutting fentanyl
She asked me if I'm f***ing her friend, just know I'm hitting y'all
Fuck an opp, two-fifty round drums when I give it to y'all
And it'll make The Shade Room if these bloggers knew who I'm fucking
It'll make the same news if the feds knew who I'm plugging
You bought sixty grams off me, I probably threw in a dozen
You need a dope boy, bitch, fuck you gon' do with a husband?

[Pre-Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Bitch, I been on The Shade Room, got three baby mamas, I'm thuggin
TMZ been at my house, taking pictures, all of a sudden
Heard the DEA, they tossing indictments, they want to cuff him
I'ma leave up out the country with fake ID like McLovin

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Bitch, what you trippin' on?
Thirty-six raw, cut that with acetone
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, get hard, they hit the crack phone
(Bitch, what you trippin' on?)
Thirty-six raw, cut that with acetone
Saturday and Sunday, I only talk on the family phone (Shit)

[Interlude: Freddie Gibbs & Benny The Butcher]
These motherfuckers out here talking about, you know what I'm sayin'?
I'm tired of- I'm tired of all these niggas talking about this whole dope shit, the drug shit, nigga
Nigga, I made it to the motherfucking GRAMMY's, nigga
You talking 'bout ''Shit, I'll show you the raw'', nigga (Yo, yo)

[Verse 2: Benny The Butcher & Freddie Gibbs]
I treat her like coke, get her wet, then hit her with the ice
Reward a single bitch that's faithful to a nigga with a wife
Plug hate me like I ran off with bundles and fucked his wife
Migo stabbed me in the eye, hit a dirty knife for the night
You ain't never been in a gang war if you don't know my life
Feds got me up on the gang board, VL for life
Big Rabbit got a package, goddamn it, I keep a Sprite
When Obama got elected, I caught a case with a wife (Yeah)
Bitch, what you trippin' on?
They want to know how I feel about Mach workin' with West
Why would I give a fuck? I'm rich already, I wish him the best
Played the game where a brick get you death, A hit get you less
Judged for the number on your shirt, but it won't be Mitchell & Ness
You like to claim her, the truth is we shared the bitch, so I guess
I sent her back with some cash in her purse and dick on her breath, yeah
I make my girl a star too from buying all that yola
Gang hit again, y'all hoes still crying in Toyotas

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Bitch, what you trippin' on?
Thirty-six raw, cut that with acetone
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, get hard, they hit the crack phone
(Bitch, what you trippin' on?)
Thirty-six raw, cut that with acetone
Saturday and Sunday, I only talk on the family phone (Bitch, what you trippin' on?)

[Outro: Benny The Butcher]
This for my nigga Doug
First nigga ever gave me a brick, man
How i'm gon' forget you?
That's a chance, you'll be kiddin' me, haha
Federal district attorney
BSF, nigga

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