Frank Lucas

[Intro: Freddie Gibbs] It might just spill over on you Uh, yeah (Kane train, baby) Yeah (Nigga, my name is cocaine) Yeah, uh, yeah [Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs] You niggas snitchin', gettin' time shaved Sold a book on my Boost Mobile, I boost the crime rate Tellin' all my hoes that I love 'em, I'm playin' mind games Them bitches after your last dollar, they take your last name I'm married to this shit, jumped up off the porch, then I jumped the broom Bunny Rabbit gang, we be robbin' shit like the Romper Room Catch an Uber or a Ly-zift, I sent the bri-zick The feds wanna turn the witness, I plead the Fi-zith Been smokin' since thirteen, I fried my brain, so I ain't never stressin' I can't hold no grudges, Michael Thomas, bitch, I'm catchin' blessings Police tryna catch me, ain't gon' catch me ridin' without my weapon Panoramic roof off on that coupe, I look like George Jetson Space Ghost Fentanyl, got a gas mask when I make dope I done seen a lot of OGs catch a table habit tryna taste dope I just got another case, moe, call my lawyer, hit him with the pesos Gotta cook a bird where the J's stay, got a play-play for the yayo Been thuggin' since a youngin, I'm too legit to quit I keep this vision like my kinship, bustin' shots at the rich I had the strap, she took the charge, I took that bitch on the trip Flew in her friend, jumped on the boat, I fucked them both, shit was lit Shit was lit Pray my soul to keep, dear Lord, lay me down (Yeah) The SWAT team might machine gun or grenade me down (Yeah) And if they do, tell my people just hold my babies down Nigga, we need to go back to pagers like it's the '80s now (Yeah) Fuck rap, bitch, I'm poppin' off of poppy seed My name cocaine, they ain't got put me in the nominees (Yeah) Since Gangsta Gibbs brought back the bars, I see a lot of mes Niggas is my sons, I wish they mamas would have swallowed these, nigga Cappin' ass nigga Jeezy used to say, "Boy, you one rappin' ass nigga" I said I'm shippin' packs, I don't need no advance, nigga Niggas thought I took a loss, but I jumped off, then I got richer Shit is funny when you think about it Rolex too big, I took a link up out it Frank Lucas, I hit the closet, pulled a mink up out it Livin' this life, pussy, dream about it, nigga, Kane [Verse 2: BENNY THE BUTCHER] Bury me with ratchets Let the feds tell it, apparently I'm active Gucci hoodie smell like kerosene and ashes Don't get carried away I been up, and look how carefully I stack it Got your advance check buried in the mattress We the Yankees on a pennant run You needed soldiers, I heard you rented some Tellin' war stories and you ain't been in none But look what I converted to From lettin' burners loose out convertibles (Skrrt) My bitch gon' be the driver for a purse or two Nah, my finger never could point You know pussy best when it's moist Got a hammer and a brick from a plug I met in the joint Miami, Super Bowl weekend, I got head in a Royce (Uh-huh) We chasin' cheddar of course, I wouldn't care if it's Deutsch (Nigga, fuck) It was either law school or dog food If I was makin' y'all moves, we all lose Make these sucker niggas pay, those was our rules (Brrt) You gon' need more guns and lucky horseshoes Never took an L, but a few lost to mine (A few) New loft downtown and this view was hard to find Sold lines to abusers, now abuse y'all with lines I'm in this black thing, Heem just a few cars behind I bought two of everything, they said, "Dude lost his mind" (Ayy, you crazy) Two gold Cubans like I'm tryin' too hard to shine Two whips, one a coupe that's too small to drive (What else?) Two-car garage (Uh-huh), two-broad massage, yeah [Interlude: BENNY THE BUTCHER] Niggas think I be frontin' (Yo, Freddie) But I just be talkin' that real shit I don't expect everybody to feel it, though 'Cause y'all niggas not really like that (You the only one talkin' your shit like I talk that shit, nigga, let's go) [Outro: BENNY THE BUTCHER] With this 9 I got from the district, I'm shoppin' for Christian I'm in Vegas drippin' in jewelry I got from the district They say hustlin' like a disease, I'ma die with the symptoms Put three hundred grams on a brick, cut the pie into sixes The Butcher comin', nigga, ah