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freddie gibbs & madlib - bomb lyrics

[produced by madlib]

[intro]
yeah, yeah, yeah, uhh

[verse 1: freddie gibbs]
slammin, drugs got me wakin’ up in cold sweats
sometimes i’m slightly off my rocker, but i’m on deck
got 2 and a baby off my b-tches student loan check
she hit my line to get that girl, i call it phone s-x
robbing like my problems ain’t gon catch up to me later
b-tch i’m mobbing like og bobby johnson, split your potato
at the table cooking, shaving and touching base with them basers
bet they try to make a play for the yay’ as soon as they taste it
the evasive black american gangster, sinister corner hugger
cuz seeing this n-gga shine been annoying me like a m-th-f-cka
this busta owe me, now he act like he don’t know me
forty fo’ my closest homie, k!ll c-ckaroaches like tony
got montana money, newport 100 dipped in fluid
yo i had to smoke it, pupils dilated like silver dollars
now we loc’ing, call it devilish how i do b-tch
f-ck these n-ggas talking, i leave they thoughts on my shoestrings

[interlude: freddie gibbs]
what? uh, yeah
for sure

[verse 2: freddie gibbs]
rolling, pockets all swollen
set the record straight, that fnh is what i’m holding
a busta that we know got 15 ‘bows, bust it open
we came bandana’d up, divide it up, now what’s the quotient?
a split with 4 n-ggas, since i’m a go getter
i think these suckers p-ssy, i’ma merk the whole litter
told my girl to leave as soon as i hung up the phone with her
man, i heard you rob the robbers, look freddie a cold n-gga
got an ice maker for a heart, made n-gga from the start
life is like a movie, all i did was play my f-ckin’ part
cheffing up the crack, the heroin, and weed a la carte
i call it fast freddie’s, i should own a f-ckin’ restaurant
’cause back when i was 12, threw some bales on a scale and i got a pager
we broke them down and started selling nickels to the neighbors
eventually the penitentiary gon’ see me later
kiss my momma, told her if i die, then it was part of nature
what?

[verse 3: raekwon]
28 days later we all getting fresh
got the heart to die for something, flesh to flesh
the lambo, got her outside, it’s a stretch
my b-tch half mexican/afghan, i’m blessed
from living tough times with rough lemons
a gorgeous watch, my team on a dreadful level, yo
yeah, we still getting money right
long as the sun come out, i’ll hold these twenties tight
getting fresh, just cooling, my b-tch on my d-ck
ba-boom yo, you live with your moms, just get a grip
clip in my pocket, my rocket
i think of the dips, i need juelz and jims, with rough l!cks
trips to africa, shorty tear saks up
i’m out in bombay, rebels here actin’ up
we real, all g, 75-hundred of us
up in the sprinter bus, fussin’ “we need more heat”

[outro]

- freddie gibbs madlib lyrics

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