Freddie Gibbs - Flamboyant lyrics

East Side GI, what up? Goon life, what up?

These bench warmers never actually been
Part of the action i wanna be legit
But being broke would be a distraction
My only interest is pimping and pandering
Pistol packing so fuck rap
I ain't that nigga that
Be rapping about rapping

I got away with shit that could've
Put me under the prison
My recent run ins with police
Has got me under suspicion
I bet they never find me
Guilty under my own admission
This shit is part of god's plan
This was not my decision in hell's kitchen
But I'm chefing up a fresh
Cold plate of revenge
On you fuck niggas and fair weather friends

I got them nervous because I
Got niggas still rocking
Despite my flights with police
Lights and light pockets
I'm still the same dog
Same killer flow but your rap
Is a different game, dog
Not gone compromise my pride
To entertain ya'll
Hip hop I damn near hate ya'll
I'm sick and tired of all
These Autotuned ass niggas i miss Nate Dogg

Miss me with that back
And forth video blogging
Because a nigga really out here robbing
If I felt you was a bona fide problem
I'd bring straight at ya
Only Youtube niggas bust guns on camera
I could shoot dudes quicker
Than paramedics can handle
Watch a motherfucker down that amble
Take his last rock

Indiana's all time greatest
But I ain't satisfied fuck the rap game
I'm your favorite by a landslide
Whether niggas know it or not yet
My shit about to knock on every block
Every project
It's East 17th, put it down for my set
So blame it on them crackers why
My album ain't dropped yet

I guess I'm too hard for Power 92 or GCI
And I'm just a hop, skip
And a jump from the Chi'
But bitch I'm out the dos-uno-nueve
Es para mi que llegue
Pushed D in EC and got in shootouts with eses
Them niggas down in 'Nap know that
I ain't scared to blast, nig'
Jack them pussy niggas for they
Rims at the Classic
A black mass of black kush wrapped in plastic
35 dollars for the gram, I was taxing

Telephone calls from her man
While I'm smashing slay your main dame
Have her mashin' for rations
Your ho' give me the whole check
So ho' check it
Got smokers on my team that like
To smoke they dope naked
With a crack ho' stroking his rope
He want the hard and the broad
So I'm serving them both
I flip a spot to a one stop
Shop for rock and hot cot
Got lines of Lenny Bias
So throw in your snot box

Niggas rhyme these days
At times it's not hot
Labels buy they own records and
Pay for the top spot
Am I in the wrong business, I wonder
"Should I stop?
Is my music going to take care
Of my mama if I flop?"
Is a nigga gonna depend on that?
I think not, if you think so
You think slow, so don't think, ho'
Freddie Gibbs run up in
Cribs like Kris Kringle
Touch down and talk more shit than Ocho Cinco

My people slaved in this American regime
This need I feel remain, Rahim
Stay on my team praise to the most high
Fuck everything in between
Seen young black kings and
Queens turned to fiends
Swallowed up in the machine, nahmean
Straight greasy you lock a nigga up
What I'ma do when they release me?
Shout out to Finger Roll, C Mac
And Will Screezy the reason why I make it
Look easy, East Side, nigga