[Intro: DJ Skee (& Freddie Gibbs)]
That’s right
I told y’all we was bringin’ that Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik to life today
Gangster Gibbs
(Sing that as a lullaby)
It’s only the start

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
I’m rolling solo in my four door, got my speakers on bang
Trunk full of that {​?}​, finna go make a stain with that cocaine
I’m on my way to cop it, chop it, gotta get paper, bitch
Got your favorite shit and what you lace it with?
They hate the kid
N***as thought they could phase the kid
Step back and appraise the kid
The neck is lit, this major shit
N***as ain’t do me no favors, bitch
Don’t ask for none
And n***as that ain’t my peeps shouldn’t even think to speak
I pack them guns, they yap and run
You showed them my buzz?
I’ll sweep your street
We taking and making that dough, n***a
Jacking and breaking them o’s, n***a
Ask any motherfucker on my block
Ms. Watts ain’t raise no hoes n***a
I keep a bitch on her toes, n***a
Freddie the one that she chose, n***a
My dough bigger, my flow sicker than most n***as
I show bitches that I ain’t the one they be playing with
I’m ‘bout my money, my paper, my cheddar, my bread
You hear me jap out on these beats
‘Cause I’m in the streets, the streets is keeping me fed
These n***as ‘ll leave me for dead, if they get the chance
Come at my head to try to advance, but will I last?
Fuck yea—‘cause I’m ‘a blast, n***a
[Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs]
From the cradle to the grave, the womb to the tomb
I’m ‘a get it, win or lose
I’m just out here making moves
From the womb to the tomb, to the cradle to the grave
‘Til I check up out this bitch, I’m out this bitch
Getting paid

[Verse 2: Pill]
Ey, I can’t be hospitable
If the shit ain’t profitable
Send him to the hospital slow
Then we gon’ let his children know
Can’t go places that Pill ‘ll go
Might post up at the liquor store
Chop it down and distribute blow
Might get fresh and go pimp a hoe
I didn’t know that’s your sister, though
Look, stand under this mistletoe
Give that four-five, a kiss, you bitch
‘Fore I let this trigger go
Cold-hearted for cash, a damn dummy for ducats
Sold the hardest of glass
My fam hungry, I’m bugging
Trucking, tucking, don’t get stuck in shit
What is this?
The components of a fuck-you-upper, knuckle upper
Gutter n***a, throw the baking soda
Drop her proper
English for the slow guys, Bacon Double Whopper
I need more cheese and more fries
From the rocker to the doctor
Delivery room to the morgue
If you live by the sword
Take this chopper, go get guaped up
Or get killed trying for it
Take this chopper, go get guaped up
Or get killed trying for it
[Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs]

[Verse 3: Freddie Gibbs]
Yo, I done played n***as, made n***as
Come up off that yay, n***a
What you think you brave, n***a?
I’m ‘a get down for my pay, n***a
Spray n***as, lay n***as out flat
“Will he live?”
“I doubt that”
Murder shit, I’m ‘bout that
All the shit surrounding that
Got n***as with cases, tears on faces
Snitches conversating down at the station
I smell bacon, so I’m laying low
Still gotta get that paper, yo
Pimp a bitch, break a hoe
‘Til I come up on that major dough
I could come up on some major blow
Been in the Bay with that major weed
Played the field, with major pills
The shit that I got give n***as the chills
This is the way that I live for real
Young and trill
I brung the steel against they will
My lungs is filled with Cali kill
I got that yac so crack the seal
I stack them bill to half a mill
Praying I never go broke again
Got money-making methods
And they respect it, whether they folks or (fed?)
Refuse to lose and hope to win
Strictly getting paid
From the womb to the tomb
From the cradle to the grave
[Hook (x2): Freddie Gibbs]