Freddie Gibbs - Flamboyant (Freestyle) lyrics

Yeah, East Side GI, what up? Goon life, what up? These bench warmers never actually been part of the action I wanna be legit, but being broke would be a distraction My only interest is pimping and pandering, pistol packing So f** rap, I ain't that n***a that be rapping bout rapping I got away with sh** that could've put me under the prison My recent run ins with police has got me under suspicion I bet they never find me guilty under my own admission This sh** was part of god's plan, this was not my decision In hell's kitchen, but I'm chefing up a fresh cold plate of revenge On you f** n***as and fair weather friends I got 'em nervous cause I still got it, n***as still rocking Despite my flights with police lights and light pockets I'm still the same dog Same k**er flow but your rap is a different game, dog Not gone compromise my pride to entertain ya'll Hip hop I damn near hate ya'll I'm sick and tired of all these Autotuned a** n***as I miss Nate Dogg Miss me with that back and forth video blogging Cause a n***a really out here robbing If I felt you was a bona fide problem, I'd bring it straight at ya Only Youtube n***as bust guns on camera I could shoot dudes quicker than paramedics can handle Watch a muhf**er down that ample, take his last ride Indiana's all time greatest, but I ain't satisfied f** the rap game, I'm your favorite by a landslide Whether n***as know it or not yet My sh** about to knock on every block, every project It's East 17th, put it down for my set So blame it on them crackers why my album ain't dropped yet I guess I'm too hard for Power 92 and GCI And I'm just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Chi' But b**h I'm out the dos-uno-nueve, es para mi que llegue Pushed D in EC and got in shootouts with eses Them n***as down in 'Nap know that I ain't scared to blast, nig' Jack them p**y n***as for they rims at the Cla**ic A black ma** of black kush wrapped in plastic 35 dollars for the gram, I was taxing Telephone calls from her man while I'm smashing Slay your main dame, have her mashin' for rations Your ho' give me the whole check, so ho' check it Got smokers on my team that like to smoke they dope naked With a crack ho' stroking his rope He want the hard and the broad, so I'm serving 'em both I flip a spot to a one stop shop for rock and hot cot Got lines of Lenny Bias, to throw in your snot box n***as rhyme these days, at times it's not hot Labels buy they own records and pay for the top spot Am I in the wrong business, I wonder, "Should I stop? Is my music gon take care of my mama if I flop?" Is a n***a gon depend on that? I think not, if you think so You think slow, so don't think, ho' Freddie Gibbs run up in cribs like Kris Kringle Touch down and talk more sh** than Ocho Cinco My people slaved in this American regime Bismillah ir Rahman ir Raheem, stay on my din Praise to the most high, f** everything in between Seen young black kings and queens turned to fiends Swallowed up in the machine, nahmean, straight greasy You lock a n***a up, what I'ma do when you release me? Shout to Finger Roll, C Mac, and Will Screezy The reason why I make it look easy, East Side, n***a