Bitches, Dope, and Dollars

Tipton Fredrick Jamel

When I take that final sleep
I pray my maker carry me
Take my fame and pull it free
Bitch niggas to bury me
Was a bigger man
But they make me out of casualty
Product of my hood
I'mma naturally do it for them
When I take that final sleep
I pray my maker carry me
Take my fame and pull it free
Bitch nigga to bury me
Was a bigger man
But they make me out of casualty
Product of my hood
I'mma naturally do it for them

Bitches, dope and dollars
Rag top dropping bottles
Strap on the lap we mobbin'
Anything move we robbin
Try me
I be ready for the doorway
Third degree
Some how don'y silence me
Cadillac inside burgundy
Swerving to the beats like surgery
Every time I hear the streets
My ears be listening while the talking
Scheming, plotting, scoping
Wonder what I roll in, who I roll with
When I'm riding out
Fully having niggas start hiding out
Till the block hit
Too hot to cool off
But in my mind I'm a young grinding soldier
Frontlining in my motherfucking shoes off
My birthplace's the worst place
In Texas my first case
I'm paranoid and I'm fully boy
And I'm saying thanks to my heaters say
Hurry up nigga no time to waste
Ski mask on my face
Call them hoes they in that barrio
And tell 'em let's go get this cake
All my life I ain't had shit
Man, full of bad shit
Once upon a time I was a child
Now I'm a savage
Society live and sue a nigga state with the 2-2-3
Do it for the block
Do it for the hood
Do it for the city
I do it so fucking G, nigga

When I take that final sleep
I pray my maker carry me
Take my fame and pull it free
Bitch nigga to bury me
Was a bigger man
But they make me out of casualty
Product of my hood
I'mma naturally do it for them

Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars

East Side G.I
Really ain't shit to do but get high
And I keep that stainless thang in my lap
Gotta rob, steal and kill
Gotta get by
Gotta roll, smoke dope
Gotta maintain
Get to the West Coast nigga same thing
And you gotta be down to ride or die
'Bout it 'bout it man
I do it for the
Dollars and dope
Bitches, Benzes and Bimmers
These 90 containers of cocaine
Sipping lean by the liters
That nigga who you believe in
We black and underachieving
Told momma I need some money
She said I'm in need of Jesus
Know what
These streets so tore up up
Got a pump in the trunk when I roll up
Got dough but I gotta get more up
Hold some nigga down for a hold up
What's up
What's up with the ski mask
Motherfucker don't shit where you sleep at
Get the dope and the money but you keep that
For the one nigga you don't wanna see that
These niggas got me so trigga happy
And I'm so caught up in this game
And I can't do shit about it
And you niggas betta know before I go
'Imma get what I get up out it
Fuck nigga I dunno what you bout
But bitch I been about it
I'm bout them bitches, dope and dollars

When I take that final sleep
I pray my maker carry me
Take my fame and pull it free
Bitch niggas to bury me
Was a bigger man
But they make me out of casualty
Product of my hood
I'mma naturally do it for them

Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars
Bitches, dope and dollars

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La canción “Bitches, Dope, and Dollars” de Freddie Gibbs fue compuesta por Tipton Fredrick Jamel.

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