Freddie Gibbs - Piñata lyrics

[Verse 1: Domo Genesis] Live like 9-5, I rhyme and come alive My grind divides fine through my divine eyes It's prime time, you wish you could buy time, but it's my time Thoughts against I, blasphemy, it's like a vice crime I roll 'em thick and I ignite mines I don't even get high, I just get equally back in my right mind I'm getting lethal with these nice lines Creeping through your speakers Catch you sleeping like a thief of in the nighttime Young Doms, none of you n***as correspond, b**h Kick the f** out of the track on some Jean-Claude sh** Get the f** out of the streets, n***a, I bomb sh** sh** ain't all good no more, y'all on your con sh** The f** is your conscience? Testing me is nonsense The whole city is mine, I'm the best up in my conference Ain't feeling me, fine, ain't gotta listen to my sh** You can hear about me from the critics all on my dick [Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs] b**h, I've been thugging since the motherf**ing Ten Speed Redbone on my handlebars, I like my b**hes mixed breeds Feel the Philly tighten with a 20 sack of stress weed Educated, at the stove I'm working recipes Reputation say I'm robbing just for recreation Revive my enemy with gun-to-mouth resuscitation Can't wait to this p**y n***a pay me, I'm impatient Let's go kick in their door and strip them naked, leave 'em stinking No witness, no weapon, my n***a, the case is over The reaper snatched 'em, closed casket, his family needs a closure And Moses had ten commandments, Huey had ten points Won't see my homie for ten, dropped him off at the joint Staring at my future in my rear-view Family cried some tears, I got some years, it ain't no issue Mama with the tissue Saw her breaking down, she just might cry a river Murder one, she can't believe she raised that type of n***a [Verse 3: G-Wiz] I tried to do right, but it only got your boy f**ed in the game So I changed my mind, now I'm back on this grind Trying to get this change n***as hate to see me getting it Travelling packs with a red dot Boy, it ain't your knot, trying to get what you got When the rain and the pain gon' stop Standing on the porch early, no shoes, selling blow in my socks And I was watching for the ghetto bird Ain't got no money for college So all I know is how to sack and how to serve I be damned if I miss another lick for the chips Got me stacking, almost splurging on weed, syrup and whips n***as around my way be loving it I'm Cadillac'ing, blowing good alligators with the belts to match I got an ounce with an ounce to match, bust it down, get back Hopefully maybe get the clique out the trap I need dough like a bread baker (Amen) 24/7, got ready on the turf, player All day [Verse 4: Casey Veggies] Make 'em hop in the new coupe n***as been winning, that ain't nothing new Forgive me for the sinning that they be doing in this business Not using their words to express truth Out in the streets with a screw loose On the Westside I got the juice Just tell me what you trying to do She loving the crew and ain't f**ing with you I go where the hood n***as get into it I go where the bad girls go shop Every window tinted but the rooftop That money I'll just spend it to get you shot Can they be hating, they got no reason Right where they got me, the place I Delete 'em We kicking on weaklings just for all of their secrets I can't believe the sh** that I'm seeing I'm hearing the words, doing my reading, it's really absurd Not enough leaders, the sh** that they feed you, it's just what you eating They call me young Veggies, I make it go green I smash in all your teeth, the f** is you saying? You got the candy's, the n***as is spraying To get away and take over the land, yeah [Verse 5: Sulaiman] My mind on capital, I'm not just rapping, dude I'm out to speak actual factual, watch how a master moves You ball a fist what that gon do I'm from a city clapping fools You off the tit and [?] lacking while watching me fashion stools sh**ting styles, you never had a hot line that I didn't dial Little princes always trying to fit a bigger crown But don't forget I sit amidst some seasoned gents Them b**hes knowing he a pimp ain't even need to read the blimp It was a good day, good day to O'Shea A d**h certificate for anyone who lay in my way You best revisit all the tombstones that lay in my wake Me being knowledge, be honest You seen the prophet get sacrificed by the Ops It get ratchet when ratchets out and they firing Residue on pinata's, wonder what's up inside of 'em It's sure ain't no Vicodin cause it up and excited 'em But they ain't get high enough, if you ain't succeed, n***a Buy again then try again [Verse 6: Meechy Darko] It's the irrational type of n***a, the John Madden tackle you Steal your car keys and crash your coupe in the botanical Wrap you with shackles, tangle you, pull from ever angle, dismantle you Watch your blood mixed with mud and stain the gravel too Grab and shoot, rib cage open like a parachute Close range, Swiss blade, poke 'em if it's personal Blood stains, gold fangs, mask on, no traits Murder one, closed case, stolen whip, no plates Half a body in the trunk, go to prison, no way Speed off the Brooklyn bridge before I catch a cold case Realize I'm the voice for those who do not have a voice So I voice my f**ing voice, I don't have a f**ing choice Cold blooded, leave some n***as, well I hope you got insurance Shotgun and shorty lift 'em like the potent in my joint Barrels smoking like Red Auerbach Still can't believe I'm getting fed on rap I don't know what's louder, the pack or the gat [Verse 7: Mac Miller] My endorphins are morphin', absorbin' energy Original copy, A Tale of Two Cities gets read to me Reading Emerson novels eating some Belgian waffles Some powder go up my nostrils, my dick going down her tonsils What's up? Play with an abacus, I've been stressing like Catholics That's the sh**, a bit of that happiness in my cup This generation corrupt, these people brainwashed with evil My music is more cerebral, exploring just what you need to So this your Exodus, church of the Methodist Beating up the p**y, have her screaming like a exorcist Absorb it through your pores, the Lord with horns, a world war who*es are more hors d'oeuvre when it's a world tour O'Doyle Rules