Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

Geluid


Koppel


Moeilijkheidsgraad


Accent



interfacetaal

nl

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie beleid   |   Steun   |   FAQ
1
registreren / inloggen
Lyrkit

doneren

5$

Lyrkit

doneren

10$

Lyrkit

doneren

20$

Lyrkit

En/of steun mij op sociaal gebied. netwerken:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Freddie Gibbs

Paper

 

Paper

(album: ESGN - 2013)


[Hook x2: YB]
With a mic, bitch, and I'm nice, bitch
Six rings, yeah, I'm on that Mike shit
But I hit her two weeks ago
Sip the drink, hit the reefer smoke
Sip the drink, hit the reefer smoke
Sip the drink, hit the reefer smoke
But I hit her two weeks ago
Sip the drink, hit the reefer smoke

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
On the mic, bitch, and I'm nice, bitch
Six rings, yeah, I'm on that Mike shit
Straight thug, nigga, most of my life spent
Was on that black top working that white, bitch
Shit, it was just 500 for the zip then
Got a plug and my homeboy chipped in
I was gunning, seventeen when I bagged up
Pyrex, work yo mo'fucking wrist in
Turnt up to be turnt down
It's what the kush for, let's get burnt down
I've got a muddy cup of that Texas dope
And that good smoke from that Oaktown, bitch
100 pounds of the good, what it cost?
Hit 'em with the ski mask, they get lost
I don't trick on these hoes
But I will pay your broke bitch to back up off me
Drop them drawers, ho, fuck all that talking
House on my neck, I call that balling
True shit, it ain't shit like a new bitch
My old hoes, I don't call that often
Drop them drawers, ho, fuck all that talking
House on my neck, I call that balling
True shit, it ain't shit like a new bitch
Old hoes, I don't call that often

[Hook: YB]

[Verse 2: YB]
I hit her two weeks ago, got head in the Jeep before
Straight bob with this sloppy top, man, this bitch was a freaky ho
Sip the drink, hit the reefer smoke
Hurry up, let me beat it, though
When she ask me to eat it
I told her, take it or leave it, ho
Cause this pimping shit in my bones
Million cash on my mind, bitch
Snowflakes on that stove, dope fiends on my line, bitch
Straight hand to hand, east side, on my land I'm the man
Learned how to chef up them cookies
Gotta let 'em just dry by the fan
We keep that chopped up in plastic
Gotta find a new place to stash it
Once I ran through my pack
Hit the club, balled out like a draft pick
Keep that chopped up in plastic
Gotta find a new place to stash it
Once I ran through my pack
Hit the club, balled out like a draft pick

[Hook: YB]

klaar

Heb je alle onbekende woorden uit dit nummer toegevoegd?