freddie gibbs – talkin’ bout you lyrics
intro:
i like the way this feel
b-tch for real
b-tch i’m talkin’ bout you
you know that b-tch a ho
tap her on the shoulder
let her know, know what i mean
keep it real with a b-tch, know what i mean?
verse 1:
i always knew you was a greazy b-tch
tried to warn my homie but he didn’t believe me b-tch
its a shame how you had dude trickin his chips
less than a week later you was on my d-ck
got his nose wide open, not to mention his wallet
every chance he got he was comin out of pocket
you trippin my n-gga, how you gon let this b-tch hustle you
wonder why this grown–ss man was so gullible
so stupid, she f-ck with any n-gga on the team
b-tch got a thing for diamond rings and ding-a-lings
on the floor, shopping sprees and fur coats
you pumped her head up now she think she the most
i just beat the p-ssy up and get ghost
and i never spend a penny, b-tches supply me with hydro and henny
i’m just speakin on the thangs you do
chorus:
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you (you you you)
and all the thangs you do
down to bust down every n-gga in my crew
not my lady, not my baby, and you ain’t my boo
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you (you you you)
and all the rats that you roll with
gon admit your whole clique on some ho sh-t
and if i wanted i could f-ck them too
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you
verse 2:
so can you taste it ho it ain’t no game
you gon make a n-gga say yo name
b-tch i’m talkin to you
so can you taste it ho it ain’t no game
you gon make a n-gga say yo name
b-tch i’m talkin bout
keisha, leisha, april and alicia
nothing but them dog–ss hoes and straight skeezers
type of b-tch to come to your spot and smoke up your reefer
then wanna give you brain, b-tch drop some change
on this mothaf-ckin doity you puffin on
put up on my reefer sack or leave it the f-ck alone
you hoes want patron shots and grey goose
thinking a n-gga gon supply your liquor just cuz you cute
well godd-mn, i am, appalled at y’all frauds
i ain’t in it for the drawers, you all on my b-lls
don’t answer y’all calls
and you wonder why you can’t get through
chorus:
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you (you you you)
and all the thangs you do
down to bust down every n-gga in my crew
not my lady, not my baby, and you ain’t my boo
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you (you you you)
and all the rats that you roll with
gon admit your whole clique on some ho sh-t
and if i wanted i could f-ck them too
don’t look around like you ain’t got no clue
b-tch i’m talkin bout you
verse 3:
you b-tch n-gga, you trick n-ggas
she playing with your d-ck and you payin her rent n-gga
i specialize in this pimpin and breakin these hoes
charge it all to a b-tch, n-gga thats how it goes
but who knows, i might bump into two hoes thats bout that action
met em in the lobby, i’m probably gon be smashin
if i can get em to the suite, i’d rather hit the streets
so pat your feet to the street b-tch, mash for rations
i was in the cranberry chevy with rosemary
nymphomaniac from gary who strip at the black cherry
but her momma think she work as a medical secretary
in the day but in the evenin she doin whats necessary
just to stay up in them gucci boots, suck a d-ck in the coupe
they say i’m hard on these heifers i just tell the truth
cuz i’m just speaking on the thangs they do
chorus
outro:
and you, and you, and you, and you
i see you girl (b-tch)
i see you girl (haha)
i’m off them ragged–ss hoes man
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