1985 (Explicit)
Freddie Gibbs"1985 (Explicit)" là bài hát của Freddie Gibbs, 2020, Pop. Thời lượng 2:30, 64 lines / 453 words.
Lời bài hát
0:00作曲 : Frederick J. Tipton/Alan D. Maman
0:03作词 : Frederick J. Tipton
0:07My brother said, "Don't say that"
0:10I said, "F*ck that, I'm gon' get a whoopin' anyway!
0:08It don't make no goddamn difference."
0:09F*ck that, I'm not goin' to find sh*t
0:13What your mom say? "Take the garbage out, what the f*ck?"
0:22(Yeah) Yeah, don't lose the beat motherf*cker
0:24Take the garbage out
0:29Yeah-yeah, I just upped the flows to the God level, n*gga, what
0:34Yeah
0:33Yeah-yeah
0:32Finna up the flows to the God level, n*gga, what
0:43Yeah, check-check
0:43Yeah, mic check-check
0:44Yeah, n*gga, check-check
0:54Yeah, b*tch, check-check
0:53Yeah, yeah
0:52Quarter thang to a whole thang, whole gang workin' (Yeah)
1:02Hit a b*tch with that extended clip or that revolver
0:56Sh*t'll serve the same purpose (Bang, bang)
1:02Geekers beamin' up to Scotty in my crack lobby
1:05I can smell the 'caine burnin'
1:03Michael Jordan, 1985, b*tch, I travel with a c*caine circus
1:09Put them F'in Xs on your clowned ass
1:07Catch a n*gga up and leave him down bad
1:08I go get a pack and take a n*gga town
1:17And f*ck his b*tches with my out-of-town ass
1:18Bomb on n*ggas like Nagasaki
1:14Rocket next to my pocket, hot like hibachi
1:15Drop the check on the b*tch
1:16Man, these n*ggas be lookin' like baby mommas in these Maseratis
1:23B*tch, I f*ck up your face with a razor
1:22How I make sure your motherf*ckin' family can't view your body
1:24N*gga thuggin' and sh*t, put my blood in this sh*t
1:31Prick my finger, Alfredo, Illuminati (Illuminati)
1:35Joe Pesci, push your product
1:28You n*ggas is sweeter than Joe Exotic
1:37On the run like Assata, so f*ck the police
1:35As a n*gga be chillin' in the hotbox (Hoppin' out the box)
1:41Police caught him with a whole thang
1:39Now they snitchin' man, whole gang workin'
1:42Gangland, made a lane in it
1:41Dip my name in it, it's some gang murder
1:41All my reps in the crack files, b*tch, I got 'em up out the vault
1:45I'm the reason your mama be smokin' that Brillo and be rippin' them contenders off (Them contenders off)
1:52Geekers beamin' up to Scotty in my crack lobby
1:57I can smell the 'caine burnin'
2:00Gangland, if you put a hit on Freddie 'caine it'll be a gang murder
2:021985, Michael Jordan, b*tch, I travel with a c*caine circus
2:02Flow God level, like when HOV speak
2:01I make a song weep, I got the game hurt
2:12B*tch, yeah-yeah
2:11Flow God level, like when HOV speak
2:12I make a song weep, I got the game hurt
2:17Yeah, yeah-yeah
2:16Yeah, check-check
2:21Check-check
2:27Mic check-check
2:27Check-check
2:24N*ggas need a check-check, yeah
2:25We got everybody in the house, tonight
2:30I'll wait for my DJ to get ready
2:30Nah
作曲 : Frederick J. Tipton/Alan D. Maman 作词 : Frederick J. Tipton My brother said, "Don't say that" I said, "F*ck that, I'm gon' get a whoopin' anyway! It don't make no goddamn difference." F*ck that, I'm not goin' to find sh*t What your mom say? "Take the garbage out, what the f*ck?" (Yeah) Yeah, don't lose the beat motherf*cker Take the garbage out Yeah-yeah, I just upped the flows to the God level, n*gga, what Yeah Yeah-yeah Finna up the flows to the God level, n*gga, what Yeah, check-check Yeah, mic check-check Yeah, n*gga, check-check Yeah, b*tch, check-check Yeah, yeah Quarter thang to a whole thang, whole gang workin' (Yeah) Hit a b*tch with that extended clip or that revolver Sh*t'll serve the same purpose (Bang, bang) Geekers beamin' up to Scotty in my crack lobby I can smell the 'caine burnin' Michael Jordan, 1985, b*tch, I travel with a c*caine circus Put them F'in Xs on your clowned ass Catch a n*gga up and leave him down bad I go get a pack and take a n*gga town And f*ck his b*tches with my out-of-town ass Bomb on n*ggas like Nagasaki Rocket next to my pocket, hot like hibachi Drop the check on the b*tch Man, these n*ggas be lookin' like baby mommas in these Maseratis B*tch, I f*ck up your face with a razor How I make sure your motherf*ckin' family can't view your body N*gga thuggin' and sh*t, put my blood in this sh*t Prick my finger, Alfredo, Illuminati (Illuminati) Joe Pesci, push your product You n*ggas is sweeter than Joe Exotic On the run like Assata, so f*ck the police As a n*gga be chillin' in the hotbox (Hoppin' out the box) Police caught him with a whole thang Now they snitchin' man, whole gang workin' Gangland, made a lane in it Dip my name in it, it's some gang murder All my reps in the crack files, b*tch, I got 'em up out the vault I'm the reason your mama be smokin' that Brillo and be rippin' them contenders off (Them contenders off) Geekers beamin' up to Scotty in my crack lobby I can smell the 'caine burnin' Gangland, if you put a hit on Freddie 'caine it'll be a gang murder 1985, Michael Jordan, b*tch, I travel with a c*caine circus Flow God level, like when HOV speak I make a song weep, I got the game hurt B*tch, yeah-yeah Flow God level, like when HOV speak I make a song weep, I got the game hurt Yeah, yeah-yeah Yeah, check-check Check-check Mic check-check Check-check N*ggas need a check-check, yeah We got everybody in the house, tonight I'll wait for my DJ to get ready Nah
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