[Intro: Freddie Gibbs]
Yeah
A n***a out here clocking cash (Yeah)
Can you picture a n***a out here clocking cash? (Picture me rolling, rolling, rolling)
Can you picture a n***a out here clocking cash? (Picture me rolling, rolling, rolling)
Can you picture a n***a?
Yeah

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n***a out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n***as and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and fucking hoes, we on the same shit
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Nah
G.I. thugging (Yeah), can you picture this Midwest n***a rollin'?
Hardrock hustling (Yeah), bitch stick to the dick 'cause you know a n***a holding
Living on some pimp shit, I'ma let y'all chase hoes, I'ma get chosen
Keep a bitch dick whipped, got a whole lot of broads that'll bust that open
Fresh up off a straight dope stain, I know my clothes still smell like cocaine
The real n***as understand, I ain't trying to be the man, if you put it in my hands, it'll go, man
I keep a whole thing or better pushed to the side
Got like thirty-two bales of Bubba Kush in the ride (Yeah)
If you wanna get high, all drugs I provide
Getting my thug on where I reside
N***a been bust at, still I survive (Yeah)
Pushed packs and I lived to tell it in my raps (Uh)
Lost a couple homies, I could never get 'em back (Yeah)
Life got me stressed, so I'm twisting up a sack
I'm street certified, n***a, check my stats
Back up to the wall 'cause I'm coming up to bat
And these little n***as said they got racks on racks
So the stick up man had to put the tax on the tax, God damn
[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n***a out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n***as and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and fucking hoes, we on the same shit
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'

[Verse 2: Juicy J]
Fuck what I'm worth, still out here on the grind, trying to stack racks (Mhm)
Racks on racks, never caught slipping, n***a get wrong, that's a toe tag (Mhm)
Fucks with the hood, still eating good, hanging with the killers with the black masks (Mhm)
They will kidnap your wife and kids (Get 'em), you n***as don't want that (Mhm)
Do what we gotta do to make it, hope them jackers won't take it (Mhm)
If a n***a violate me out here, my young n***as gon' erase him (Mhm)
I don't fight over no bitches but I kill for bread (Mhm)
And I don't hang out with no n***as that sleep with feds (Mhm)
Ride down on your block with that chopper, let that bitch go (Mhm, blaow)
If you trying to open shop up, that shit closed (Mhm, it's closed)
Money and the power, what we hustle for (Mhm, we hungry)
We already run your house, ain't no kicking doors (Blaow, blaow, blaow, mhm)

[Chorus: Freddie Gibbs]
Can you picture a n***a out here clocking cash in?
Pulling stick ups, I guess I had to Glock and mask it
Nine zippers, let's bust that open, cut and bag it
Water whipper, I'm in the kitchen Str8 Slammin'
Thug n***as and drug dealers, that's all I hang with
Puffing Swishers and fucking hoes, we on the same shit
In the kitchen, gon' whip my way up to a mansion
Eight figures, that's what I call Str8 Slammin'