Freddie Gibbs, BJ The Chicago Kid, Madlib - Home lyrics

Uh, Lebron number nine
I guess whenever she ain't on my dick
I'm on her mind
It's quite cliche to just say
That I'm on my grind
And phone conversations ain't
Substitution for time in another city
Reminisce on days when I ain't
Have a fucking penny
These groupie bitches in this game
Wasn't fucking with me
Couldn't get a dollar for a rap show
Got a gun, a ski mask and
A half an ounce of crack, though
Slammin', in the pizza shop with Jacque
Last dollar on a slice, this
Contraband in my sock
Wish you knew the feeling
We're both so different
But our situations so appealing
Now I can't make it without you girl
You my new religion
And every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma
Make your last name change
Uh, said every hustler needs a main thing
Baby, once I get it I'mma
Make your last name change gibbs, uh

We still socking glock is still popping
Paper still dropping
Lord, it ain't stopping
Girl, I'm coming home
As soon as I get this paper
Yeah, the blocks still cracking, and girl
Know what I'm packing and if you pop off
You gon' know what I'm jacking
But I'm coming home
As soon as I get this paper

Ayo, summertime, 105°
Getting mine, the smoke line
They want the kush, the Cali kind
I smoke with' her, I choke with' it
Get dosed with' her a go-getter
Helped me come up from a broke nigga
The home team
And she ain't just in my pocket
She got her own cream
Sometimes I slip at the mouth
I might say the wrong thing
And once we fight, it's back to fucking
My polos and my timbos out
The window, but it's nothin, what
Uh, said once we fight, it's back to fucking
I bend that ass right over on the sofa
Like it's nothing
So bust it open for a player
Nose to your fucking toes i'm coming home
Don't be tripping on them other hoes