[Verse 3: Freddie Gibbs]
Yeah, yeah
Eastside babyface, beige delta eighty-eight, forty with four killers strap the k’s bout to k the place
Got that demonstration geekers basing on this paper chase
I’m busting back at the police bitch I ain’t got a day to waste
In the courtroom of the jailhouse
And if I bail out then it’s back to whip and I scale-out
So if you see a n***a pushing packs then I guarantee he be packing
It’s a jungle in the G it’s like national geographic
Some n***as will see me rapping and automatically hate
Then it’s shotgun when they brothers and sisters knocking my tape
N***as got they noodles knocked in the parking lot knocking bass
Now the police trying to knock down my door and lock me away
I’m like hey it’s another day I just played it cool and relax
Freddie showing n***as love don’t throw no tax on the sax Freddie
Old school never write my raps in the blackberry
Everything I do is straight dirty and sanitary