Freddie Gibbs - Paper Lyrics
[Hook]With a mic, *****, and I’m nice, *****Six rings, yeah, I’m on that Mike shitBut I hit her two weeks agoSip the drink, hit the reefer smokeSip the drink, hit the reefer smokeSip the drink, hit the reefer smokeBut I hit her two weeks agoSip the drink, hit the reefer smoke[Verse 1]On the mic, *****, and I’m nice, *****Six rings, yeah, I’m on that Mike shitStraight thug, nigga, most of my life spentWas on that black top workin' that white, *****Shit, It was just $500 for the zip thenGot a plug and my homeboy chipped inI was gunnin', 17 when I bagged upPyrex workin', mother*****in' Rich TeamTurnt up to be turnt downIt’s what the kush for, let's get burnt downI've got a muddy cup of that Texas dopeAnd that good smoke from that Oaktown, *****100 pounds of the good, what it cost?Hit ‘em with the ski mask, they get lostI don’t trick on these hoesBut I will pay your broke ***** to back up off meDrop them drawers, ho, ***** all that talkin'House on my neck, I call that ballin'True shit, it ain’t shit like a new *****My old hoes, I don’t call that oftenDrop them drawers, ho, ***** all that talkin'House on my neck, I call that ballin'True shit, it ain’t shit like a new *****Old hoes, I don’t call that often[Hook][Verse 2]I hit her two weeks ago, got head in the Jeep beforeStraight bob with this sloppy top, man, this ***** was a freaky hoSip the drink, hit the reefer smokeHurry up, let me beat it, thoughWhen she ask me to eat itI told her "take it or leave it, ho"‘Cause this pimpin' shit in my bonesMillion cash on my mind, *****Snowflakes on that stove - dope fiends on my line, *****Straight hand to hand, East side, on my land I’m the manLearned how to chef up them cookiesGotta let 'em just dry by the fanWe keep that chopped up in plasticGotta find a new place to stash itOnce I ran through my packHit the club, balled out like a draft pickWe keep that chopped up in plasticGotta find a new place to stash itOnce I ran through my packHit the club, balled out like a draft pick[Hook]
