Mr. Lee - Womb 2 The Tomb lyrics

[Intro: DJ Skee (& Freddie Gibbs)] That's right I told y'all we was bringin' that Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik to life today Gangster Gibbs (Sing that as a lullaby) It's only the start [Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs] I'm rolling solo in my four door, got my speakers on bang Trunk full of that {​?}​, finna go make a stain with that c**aine I'm on my way to cop it, chop it, gotta get paper, b**h Got your favorite sh** and what you lace it with? They hate the kid n***as thought they could phase the kid Step back and appraise the kid The neck is lit, this major sh** n***as ain't do me no favors, b**h Don't ask for none And n***as that ain't my peeps shouldn't even think to speak I pack them guns, they yap and run You showed them my buzz? I'll sweep your street We taking and making that dough, n***a Jacking and breaking them o's, n***a Ask any motherf**er on my block Ms. Watts ain't raise no hoes n***a I keep a b**h on her toes, n***a Freddie the one that she chose, n***a My dough bigger, my flow sicker than most n***as I show b**hes that I ain't the one they be playing with I'm ‘bout my money, my paper, my cheddar, my bread You hear me jap out on these beats ‘Cause I'm in the streets, the streets is keeping me fed These n***as ‘ll leave me for dead, if they get the chance Come at my head to try to advance, but will I last? f** yea—‘cause I'm ‘a blast, n***a [Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs] From the cradle to the grave, the womb to the tomb I'm ‘a get it, win or lose I'm just out here making moves From the womb to the tomb, to the cradle to the grave ‘Til I check up out this b**h, I'm out this b**h Getting paid [Verse 2: Pill] Ey, I can't be hospitable If the sh** ain't profitable Send him to the hospital slow Then we gon' let his children know Can't go places that Pill ‘ll go Might post up at the liquor store Chop it down and distribute blow Might get fresh and go pimp a hoe I didn't know that's your sister, though Look, stand under this mistletoe Give that four-five, a kiss, you b**h ‘Fore I let this trigger go Cold-hearted for cash, a damn dummy for ducats Sold the hardest of gla** My fam hungry, I'm bugging Trucking, tucking, don't get stuck in sh** What is this? The components of a f**-you-upper, knuckle upper Gutter n***a, throw the baking soda Drop her proper English for the slow guys, Bacon Double Whopper I need more cheese and more fries From the rocker to the doctor Delivery room to the morgue If you live by the sword Take this chopper, go get guaped up Or get k**ed trying for it Take this chopper, go get guaped up Or get k**ed trying for it [Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs] [Verse 3: Freddie Gibbs] Yo, I done played n***as, made n***as Come up off that yay, n***a What you think you brave, n***a? I'm ‘a get down for my pay, n***a Spray n***as, lay n***as out flat “Will he live?” “I doubt that” Murder sh**, I'm ‘bout that All the sh** surrounding that Got n***as with cases, tears on faces Snitches conversating down at the station I smell bacon, so I'm laying low Still gotta get that paper, yo Pimp a b**h, break a hoe ‘Til I come up on that major dough I could come up on some major blow Been in the Bay with that major weed Played the field, with major pills The sh** that I got give n***as the chills This is the way that I live for real Young and trill I brung the steel against they will My lungs is filled with Cali k** I got that yac so crack the seal I stack them bill to half a mill Praying I never go broke again Got money-making methods And they respect it, whether they folks or (fed?) Refuse to lose and hope to win Strictly getting paid From the womb to the tomb From the cradle to the grave [Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs]