(Intro – Freddie Gibbs)
Yeah, sup
Got a little sum
One..hunnit withcha know what I mean?
Yeah
(Verse 1 – Freddie Gibbs)
Sometimes I admit you get on my f**king nerves
Sometimes I be through with you, ni**a to the curb
Prolly got drunk and started some s**t you don’t deserve
Took my frustrations out on you and put em into words
Yeah you know how ni**as get, popping silly s**t
Twelve grade, drinking that blue beast, we was getting bent
I look around and wonder where all my real ni**as went
Victim of violence, moment of silence, let me reminisce
Damn, my cognac trickles to the pavement
It’s f**ked up his family making funeral arrangements
Told me when he die…don’t cry just have a celebration
Drive his casket through the ghetto cause the streets raised him, paid him
Always making sure your ni**as ain’t
Suckas disrespect us and it’s nothing we gon demonstrate
Sipping Henny, tryna get the strength to step up in ya way
Father why you let these pu**y ni**as take my motherf**king friend?
(Chorus – BJ The Chicago Kid)
Friends
Tell me how many of us have them?
Friends
Someone that’s always riding till the end
No hating, or money, or bi**hes ever coming between us
I’m talking bout friends
Most of us don’t really have them
(Verse 2 – G-Wiz)
Come follow me down road stroll
Fifteen years old, all we wanted was triple-gold D’s on the fleetwood
Floss skates be good
He killed the highs and lows, ni**a done been through some cold sh*t
Like when the doors got kicked and my…got sick
I was there for ya homie
Brother from another, damn near my kin
Running em streets and licking shots off of the corners, they been
Living life like we was outlaws
Plus, we told them youngsters not to be like us
When they grown, now ya gone
I take a..and still pass your way
Outcha own, my own castaway
Familiar glimpse of the past when I see my brother through his lookout face
We tryna hold on to yesterday
When I say my prayer, man I pray
Lord forgive us for these D’s
Have mercy, I done made thirty
And I’m still dirty, and I’m still working
AKA second in servant
Maintaining until they call for all the curtains on me and all my
(Chorus – BJ The Chicago Kid)
Friends
Tell me how many of us have them?
Friends
Someone that’s always riding till the end
No hating, or money, or bi**hes ever coming between us
I’m talking bout friends
Most of us don’t really have them
