Flamboyant

East Side GI, what up?

Goon life, what up?

These bench warmers never actually been part of the action

I wanna be legit, but being broke would be a distraction

My only interest is pimping and pandering, pistol packing

So fuck rap, I ain't that nigga that be rapping about rapping

I got away with shit that could've put me under the prison

My recent run ins with police has got me under suspicion

I bet they never find me guilty under my own admission

This shit is part of god's plan, this was not my decision

In hell's kitchen, but I'm chefing up a fresh cold plate of revenge

On you fuck niggas and fair weather friends

I got them nervous because I got niggas still rocking

Despite my flights with police lights and light pockets

I'm still the same dog

Same killer flow but your rap is a different game, dog

Not gone compromise my pride to entertain ya'll

Hip hop I damn near hate ya'll

I'm sick and tired of all these Autotuned ass niggas

I miss Nate Dogg

Miss me with that back and forth video blogging

Because a nigga really out here robbing

If I felt you was a bona fide problem, I'd bring straight at ya

Only Youtube niggas bust guns on camera

I could shoot dudes quicker than paramedics can handle

Watch a motherfucker down that amble, take his last rock

Indiana's all time greatest, but I ain't satisfied

Fuck the rap game, I'm your favorite by a landslide

Whether niggas know it or not yet

My shit about to knock on every block, every project

It's East 17th, put it down for my set

So blame it on them crackers why my album ain't dropped yet

I guess I'm too hard for Power 92 or GCI

And I'm just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Chi'

But bitch I'm out the dos-uno-nueve, es para mi que llegue

Pushed D in EC and got in shootouts with eses

Them niggas down in 'Nap know that I ain't scared to blast, nig'

Jack them pussy niggas for they rims at the Classic

A black mass of black kush wrapped in plastic

35 dollars for the gram, I was taxing

Telephone calls from her man while I'm smashing

Slay your main dame, have her mashin' for rations

Your ho' give me the whole check, so ho' check it

Got smokers on my team that like to smoke they dope naked

With a crack ho' stroking his rope

He want the hard and the broad, so I'm serving them both

I flip a spot to a one stop shop for rock and hot cot

Got lines of Lenny Bias, so throw in your snot box

Niggas rhyme these days, at times it's not hot

Labels buy they own records and pay for the top spot

Am I in the wrong business, I wonder, "Should I stop?

Is my music going to take care of my mama if I flop?"

Is a nigga gonna depend on that?

I think not, if you think so

You think slow, so don't think, ho'

Freddie Gibbs run up in cribs like Kris Kringle

Touch down and talk more shit than Ocho Cinco

My people slaved in this American regime

This need I feel remain, Rahim, stay on my team

Praise to the most high, fuck everything in between

Seen young black kings and queens turned to fiends

Swallowed up in the machine, nahmean, straight greasy

You lock a nigga up, what I'ma do when they release me?

Shout out to Finger Roll, C Mac, and Will Screezy

The reason why I make it look easy, East Side, nigga