Lyrics Freddie Gibbs

Freddie Gibbs

Eastside Moonwalker

Lifestyles of the insane

Eastside thug nigga

I'm the shit, you a shit-stain

I let the boxframe switch lanes

Not a pretty nigga, but I got some game for a bitch brain

And I lay it on so thick

Charge it all to a broad, heard a pimp nigga quote this

And I'm allergic to a broke bitch

I think I need my medicine

I had to po up before I wrote this

And doing dirt will keep a nigga with a deep pocket

Dope fiends and the cluckheads keep shopping

Steady praying that the yayo keep clocking

Keep a strap cuz the jackboys keep robbing

Got me pulling up slow

Whip another clip and put my pedal to the floor

Slammin Cadillac doors, working wood like a pro

Ass sit on nothing but that leather, whatcha know

How ya livin nigga?

Lifestyles of the insane

Roll the kill, pop a pill, crack a seal, I resist pain

Niggas looking for that big stain

Dirt weed, dog food, fine kush, niggas flip caine

Think I lost my religion

Stepping on a pack, break em off in the kitchen

Chevy topped off with the chrome in the engine

Niggas gotta floss, that's the cost of this pimpin

I'mma pull up slow

I'mma pull it up slow

Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door

I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow

Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor

I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow

Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor

I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow

Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door

I'mma pull it up slow

It's the money cut moonwalker

Nightstalker, motherfuckin white chalker, might've caught ya

In the streets with your pants down

Tell em call the paramedics, nigga man down, ease up

If ya thuggin get ya G's up

And never fake, never fraud, never fold, never freeze up

A black mask, black tee'd up

The motherfuckin dope game feed us, how ya livin nigga?

And rest in peace to my motherfuckin homeboy

But hold ya tears, he ain't die, he just a fuckboy

You might as well be a dead man in my eyes

2-2-3 sucker free when I ride

Freddie Kane, Freddie Corleone

Selling thangs to the smokers in the mobile homes

A pack of backwoods

Dirty styrofoam and a pocket full of stones

And my cadillac broham, Ima pull up slow

[Hook]