(Chorus)
On some G shit, On some on some G shit x8

(G-Wiz)
I’m on my A, B, C, G anybody can get it
We gonna make a phone call, get em all gone
Put the little homies on, n***a good riddance
Give a fuck bout no law
Dope attire, Dope in draws
Run around with a [?] but take it like a cowboy midwest outlaw
Pissy projects hall dwellers
All my closest homies felons, racketeerers, money launder matters
Killers, Two-Elevens
Thug digits, Drug bodies, Drug users, Drug sellers
I might kill you for christmas my full clip got new suppressors
Hit my closest homie baby mama house and drop a G
She ain’t hurting, that’s for certain but I know my n***a do the same for me
Hit the table top, turn shoes on the other feet
One minute you up, the next you down
Make a n***a wanna down, who down for me
I’m on some G shit

(Chorus)
On some G shit, On some on some G shit x8

(Freddie Gibbs)
I’m on some G shit
Stand on your feet bitch
N***a ten toes down of keys of powder on the street bitch
No n***a gotta eat bitch
Seven days of the week bitch
Working on my 25th hour
Clothes smell like fresh Uncle powder
Want the power, get the cash
Make them murders, take a bath
Ain’t got weight, got no cake
Hoes ain’t letting you hit that ass
Brothers ain’t shit, Brother’s ain’t hitting it
Get a little cat, then i’m going to hit it
Silver Lac, foreign jesus
Rolling up fat, smoking on kisha
I just fed a 100 families with the papers they reported
Shot a movie in my hood, the punk polices tried to spoil it
Whatchyou know bout flushing seven books of work right down the toilet
Never knew the hoes was looking, pot still cooking Keep it boiling
I'm on some G shit
(Chorus)