Vice Lord Poetry Lyrics - Freddie Gibbs

[Part I]

Yeah! Uh, real quick, you know what I’m saying?
Yeah! (uh, triple s) bi**h

I was big rabbit before the birth of my son
The earth ain’t big enough for both of us
You gotta get done
They sayin’ they smoking top fives
But you ain’t burned up the one
Uh, f**k ni**as talking about?
F**k ni**as talking about?

Like every time I hit the booth
I don’t leave that bi**h with a body count
Came up talkin’ s**t as a toddler
I had a potty mouth (yeah)
All the girls I ever got pregnant I trick the body out
Lift that a*s up, got them titties did
Got rich and didn’t die trying, f**k all the many men
Got rich and put them on tour, shoutout my mini-mes (yeah)
Only thing they own is them diamond cubans
And skinny jeans (hahaha)
Only thing I got is my balls and my word if anything
Hoes will be with any crew, give that a*s to any who
Got they credibility winning just like these rappers do (yeah)

Ni**as change they name but your history ain’t detachable
I’m so grammatical I could take a sabbatical (yeah)
Gary ni**a was never no indianimal (yeah)
Built the empire from ashes and send me back a few (yeah)
Ni**as wanna sign me, oh, I’m the reason they signing you

Hahaha, bi**h, you know what I’m saying?
You wanna cut the kane train, ni**a
I’m the motherf**king blueprint, ni**a
You got the carbon copy, bi**h, yeah!

F**k the industry, you get lost in it (yeah)
Bet treat a ni**a like I ain’t dark-skinned (f**k)
But I ain’t f**k with y’all since 106 & park ended
Cypher’s just a waste of time
‘cuz I walk the park with it
Snow said: “Let’s hits the awards”
But we ain’t dressin’ up
Showed up in a tank top and chucks, he in a f**kin’ tux
Textin’ ross to get some advice, he keep me buttoned up
I disrespected bro several years ago

I was f**kin’ up (yeah)
Now I love him like my momma son
House up in the hills ain’t s**t ’til you get your momma one
You a certified crack baby, I gave you momma funds
Pray the lord forgive me for selling dope during ramadan
Dua keep a ni**a stable
Them crackers mark a ni**a grave before you touch the cradle
I sent a ton off to the moes ‘cuz I was more than able (feed)
They let the gds in the door, the lords was at the table (feed)

Triple s exercise!
You know I’m saying, ni**a
Big rabbit, not lil rabbit
Lil rabbit with the babysitter, bi**h
You know what I’m saying?
You gotta deal with the big boy
I can already feel my trappin’ mojo returning
[Part ii]

Uh, yeah!
Rest in peace big time, ni**a
You know what I’m sayin’, ni**a? (broadway)
That private school s**t is expensive (triple s)
Ayo, roaches on my cereal boxes, in gary living poor
Same meal saturday morning
We watching different different strokes
Diego shaking up with me, ced and them ni**as flippin folks
I was selling dope when kanye was working at river oaks
(yeah, yeah)

I did it with no radio
Had a million dollars before I ever met ebro (yeah)
‘cuz up until this point my activities was illegal (yeah)
I never made a chart, I ain’t let it f**k with my ego
F**k a ego
What I drop spark fear
I had the album of the year, bi**h, you can ask nasir
The gangsta rapper of the year running like ten years straight
Sometimes I feel like all my flowers coming ten years late (that’s how I feel, bi**h)
But f**k it (that’s how I feel, ni**a)
Vice lord poetry (yeah)
Had to be twice as nice as these ni**as for y’all to notice me
King rabbit, nobody over me
If I had a time machine
The younger fred would be buying bricks from the older me
If I had a time machine I would bring chad butler back
Candy painted, sitting on blades, so how you loving that?
Oh, you loving that?