Scottie Beam (feat. Rick Ross & The Alchemist)

[Freddie Gibbs]

Pissed off you know

This is, like, exclusive

Yeah

Kane Train, bitch, Kane, yeah

Yeah, the revolution is the genocide

Look, your execution will be televised

Don't cross me like Isiah, that shit be ill-advised (Woo)

Dark horse, rap black sheep, they got me vilified

Castratin' niggas in they feelings on IG (Uh)

Will never let this industry demasculinize me (Nah)

I do murder barefaced, don't need no mask to disguise me

Threw my FN in the stash, I think the cracker's behind me, damn

He pulled me over, I asked him, yo, what's the problem, sir?

I swerved to duck the potholes, man, I had no option, sir

Just let me go 'cause my license, insurance proper, sir

I'd hate to be on the run for smokin' an officer

We were bustin' at police before Queen & Slim, that's on FN

Let off fifty shots to the squad car and get in the wind

Told the Gary Police in '05 that I got more guns than them

Get the feds if you want a war, and they sent them bitches in

The revolution is the genocide

Yeah, my execution might be televised

Cross niggas like Bubba Chuck, I never gave a fuck

Hook shot a ho like Kareem, but I never leave the Bucks

Sick with the Act', me and Jack, pourin' three liters up

It hurt to say I miss you, the real ones always be leavin' us

Caught up in the moment, most niggas foldin' or freezin' up

Sometimes it be your own damn homies, Judas set Jesus up

Yeah, the revolution is the genocide

Made a sex tape with your bitch, that pussy televised

Thug nigga with some exotic dreams, erotic dreams

Fuckin' hella thots, but I really want me a Scottie Beam

Shit was different when Mike left and it was Scottie team

Ex won't take me back, without me, the bitch wouldn't have got a ring

Yeah, the revolution is the genocide

Tell a ho she don't know nan', Trick Daddy, Slip-N-Slide, nigga

Kane

[Rick Ross]

Uh, 305 in my yayo

Subject to let a bitch snort a line off the dashboard of my '75

Caprice, that is

Yo (M-M-Maybach Music)

You need a dictionary when you write your raps (Uh)

Went to the penitentiary just for a hundred sack (What?)

I had a vision back when I was fishin' for a bass

But they won't listen 'til you in your kitchen countin' cash

I got the dollars, motherfuck a nigga's credit score (Boss)

Big bag of chronic like I'm sackin' up at Interscope (At Interscope)

My pistol polished, any problems, I'ma pull that ho

Peter Parker, but I've yet to reach my pinnacle (Lord)

Bitches lookin' at me, shawty wanna see my soul (M-M-M)

All my jewelry on, she only see my gold (Haha)

I'm prayin' for my guys, pray you sing along (Yes)

I fuck bitches in my ride, I never bring 'em home

She sees just how I ride and slip her panties off

He wanted war until they hit 'em with a cannonball (Bang)

Spark spliffs, raw kicks I get from Clark Kent

Common sense, no Prince, strictly the mob hits (What? M-M)

Exhale weed, ship it from the West (West)

My brain begin to seize when I'm needin' rest (Yes)

Kobe Bryant when we speakin', very best (Lord)

I pray for Gigi, wonder if she'll get to see me next

Biggest (M-M-Maybach Music)

[Freddie Gibbs]

Audemars and Cartiers

You ain't shit without a dollar, yeah

You ain't shit without a dollar, yeah

Rolex, Audemars, and Cartiers

Rolex, Audemars, and Cartiers

Audemars and Cartiers

You ain't shit without a dollar, yeah

Rolex, Audemars, and Cartiers

Rolex, Audemars, and Cartiers

Audemars and Cartiers

Audemars and Cartiers

Audemars and Cartiers

Audemars and Cartiers