Freddie Gibbs - Scottie Beam (with Lyrics & Subtitles)
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Freddie Gibbs - Scottie Beam (en) Lyrics
by RentAnAdviser.com
Yeah, the revolution is the genocide
Look, your execution will be televised
Don't cross me like Isiah, that
shit be ill-advised (Woo)
Dark horse, rap black sheep,
they got me vilified
Castratin' niggas in they
feelings on IG (Uh)
Will never let this industry
demasculinize me (Nah)
I do murder barefaced, don't
need no mask to disguise me
Threw my FN in the stash, I think
the cracker's behind me, damn
He pulled me over, I asked him,
"Yo, what's the problem, sir?
I swerved to duck the potholes,
man, I had no option, sir
Just let me go 'cause my license,
insurance proper, sir
I'd hate to be on the run
for smokin' an officer"
We were bustin' at police before
Queen & Slim, that's on FN
Let off fifty shots to the squad
car and get in the wind
Told the Gary Police in '05 that
I got more guns than them
Get the feds if you want a war,
and they sent them bitches in
The revolution is the genocide
Yeah, my execution might be televised
Cross niggas like Bubba Chuck,
I never gave a fuck
Hook shot a ho like Kareem, but
I never leave the Bucks
Sick with the Act', me and Jack,
pourin' three liters up
It hurt to say I miss you, the real
ones always be leavin' us
Caught up in the moment, most niggas
foldin' or freezin' up
Sometimes it be your own damn
homies, Judas set Jesus up
Made a sex tape with your bitch,
that pussy televised
Thug nigga with some exotic
dreams, erotic dreams
Fuckin' hella thots, but I really
want me a Scottie Beam
Shit was different when Mike left
and it was Scottie team
Ex won't take me back, without me, the
bitch wouldn't have got a ring
Tell a ho she don't know nan', Trick
Daddy, Slip-N-Slide, nigga
Uh, 305 in my yayo
Subject to let a bitch snort a line
off the dashboard of my '75
Caprice, that is
You need a dictionary when
you write your raps (Uh)
Went to the penitentiary just
for a hundred sack (What?)
I had a vision back when I
was fishin' for a bass
But they won't listen 'til you
in your kitchen countin' cash
I got the dollars, motherfuck a
nigga's credit score (Boss)
Big bag of chronic like I'm sackin'
up at Interscope (At Interscope)
My pistol polished, any problems,
I'ma pull that ho
Peter Parker, but I've yet to
reach my pinnacle (Lord)
Bitches lookin' at me, shawty
wanna see my soul (M-M-M)
All my jewelry on, she only
see my gold (Haha)
I'm prayin' for my guys, pray
you sing along (Yes)
I fuck bitches in my ride,
I never bring 'em home
She sees just how I ride and
slip her panties off
He wanted war until they hit 'em
with a cannonball (Bang)
Spark spliffs, raw kicks
I get from Clark Kent
Common sense, no Prince, strictly
the mob hits (What? M-M)
Exhale weed, ship it from
the West (West)
My brain begin to seize when
I'm needin' rest (Yes)
Kobe Bryant when we speakin',
very best (Lord)
I pray for Gigi, wonder if
she'll get to see me next
Audemars and Cartiers
You ain't shit without a dollar, yeah
Rolex, Audemars, and Cartiers
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