[Intro: Smokey B + (Freddie Gibbs)]
Yeah bitch, it's ya boy Freddie Gibbs
Mixtape volume 2
It's the illest n***a in the G
This ya boy Smokey B
I'm back in this bitch
The CEO n***a
No Tamin' Entertainment
We puttin' shit down on the map bitch
Go ahead spit that shit n***a
Tell these n***as you hard as hell Freddie Gibbs (yeah, ugh, ugh)

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Yo it's the Steel City stick up kid and I'm totin' that heavy metal
I hustle block to block and push it in every ghetto
All of my songs bang, cop a disc and play dat
I got the hood soldiers like chiefs and arabs
The game gets shook, wack rappers is terrified
Killin' all of my kids, this is lyrical genocide
I write a rap, spit a rap, and it ain't no sweat
Can't quit, I'm in too deep like, Omar Epps
They treat me like I killed Bishop cause I got mo' Juice
Than OJ in a bronco, lay it down pronto
I keep a bad bitch cause my cock is mean
I'm about to get ya girl looser than a slot machine
Cha-ching, and I ain't even gotta trick no change
Spit no game, but I kicked yo' dame mane
My lyrics is blueprint for cash makin'
I do you greezy like fried bacon that's why you hatin', ugh
[Interlude: Smokey B]
Yeah you n***as see Freddie Gibbs everyday in the streets
Talkin' 'bout how you gon' murk that n***a
Half you n***as ain't even got a muthafuckin' pistol
Talkin' 'bout you gon' kill a n***a
Man I wish I would catch one of you n***as wit' a pistol tryna kill my cousin n***a
On muthafuckin' [?] and I will murk one of you n***as
I'm a muthafuckin' [?] boy
I'm back in this bitch like Mase, the CEO muthafuckas
Let's go

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
I ain't scared of gettin' murked
Got my number you call then I'mma checkout
Before it's all over, I empty the fuckin' tec out
Them hollow point hydro shots will blow yo' chest out
Or hit you in the throat and blow the back of yo' neck out
When there's beef I ain't the one to sit in the crib
I'm outchea splittin' them wigs, call me General Gibbs
Raise yo' hand and salute fo' I aim and shoot
Knock you out yo' Timbaland boots and murda ya troops
So which one of you n***as really want it? Let it be known
Go ahead and call my name out in one of ya songs
At this point in time I ain't on some dissin' you back shit
I'm on some when I see you I'mma pull out the gat shit
That ridin' through ya neighborhood squeezin' the mac shit
That hit you with the K while you sit and relax shit
Fuck this rap shit, cause you n***as can't compete wit' me
Hit the streets wit' me, I bet you I got the heat wit' me, n***a
[Outro: Smokey B]
Yeah, who got that heat bitch?
Smokey B got that heat too n***a
Anyone of you n***as run up you gon' get done up
N***a I put that on all n***a
I'm the next muthafucka in line
I'm 'bout to shut this shit down
N***a, Finger Roll the coldest producer in Gary, Indiana bitch
This the hottest shit out, I dare anyone of you n***as to say som'
I don't give a fuck who ya is n***a
I would say some names but half of you n***as ain't even worth dissin'
Ya punk muthafuckas, y'all ain't shit
Smokey B back bitch