Released: August 27, 2009
Featuring: Hayes (Rapper)
Songwriter: Freddie Gibbs
Producer: J.R. Rotem
4x[Hook:]
[This is for my niggas, this is for my nigga-nigga
This is for my niggas, my niggas on the block.]
Verse 1: (Freddie Gibbs)
My niggas bang, my niggas brawl, my niggas slang, my niggas ball
My niggas ain't trippin they play they position and handle the mission whenever I call
My dogs, runnin from laws, pimpin money from broads
You show me a bitch and I show her this pimpin I bet you I get in them draws
Oh nah, Gibbs don't play with them hoes, he be breakin them hoes, hit the strip and catch a date for them hoes
Bout my paper neighbor, I expect my cake from them hoes
And if you pay it like you weigh it you can skate with them hoes, yup
My niggas don't keep 'em or cuff 'em end of discussion
Niggas out here bluffin, mother had 'em, mother love 'em, motherfuck 'em
Cause even they mothers won't be able to identify 'em
[?], had to fry 'em, hit them with that iron
My niggas don't talk, my niggas don't bitch, my niggas don't snitch
Niggas is hungry, fiend for chips, my niggas'll flip and run in your shit
My niggas got Ks, my niggas got MACs, my niggas got TECs, my niggas equipped
Man my niggas down to leave your body stiff for the chips
This for my niggas
2x[Hook]
Verse 2: (Hayes)
Fuck them fake niggas they don't know what loyal is, dropped out of school and started fights with the spoiled kids
Thought I was broke 'til I discovered what a brick was, 850 thousand got me big love
Tricked some, became a legend in them strip clubs, but I was bigger in the streets from fuckin with them thugs
A hood rat's dream, a ghetto nigga's idol, we the champions in the streets man we hold the title
Made more money off the block than preachers with them bibles, don't be steppin out of line that gets suicidal
I got a lot of killers, we got a lot of guns, no respect for shit, murder anyone
4x[Hook]
Verse 3: (Hayes+Freddie Gibbs)
Hayes the heroin man, Gibbs slang them the weed
You got what they want, I got what they need
These niggas bleed for the yola from Gary to Minnesota, hold the toaster 'til I'm rolling in Rovers and Testarossas and Bentleys without the top, what you got?
No patience and an army of hundred niggas thats outside waiting, for a nigga to front, that'll get him Christmas treed
Lit up real good in front his whole family
Man, this ain't no fuckin game, you don't wanna see me with that thang
Ducked off in a cud box with an SK and a Glock don't test my aim
Don't test my crew keep more protection than an AIDS clinic, trunk big enough to fit you, ten bricks, and a gauge in it
Yeah, hundred round drum in my [?], and niggas'll [?] if they get out of line
Pull out the llama, you dead where you layin, and bullets will spray if you fuckin with mine, nigga
I love my block, they make that hood paper stack for me, my mother proud of me, still think its rap money
4x[Hook]
[This is for my niggas, this is for my nigga-nigga
This is for my niggas, my niggas on the block.]
Verse 1: (Freddie Gibbs)
My niggas bang, my niggas brawl, my niggas slang, my niggas ball
My niggas ain't trippin they play they position and handle the mission whenever I call
My dogs, runnin from laws, pimpin money from broads
You show me a bitch and I show her this pimpin I bet you I get in them draws
Oh nah, Gibbs don't play with them hoes, he be breakin them hoes, hit the strip and catch a date for them hoes
Bout my paper neighbor, I expect my cake from them hoes
And if you pay it like you weigh it you can skate with them hoes, yup
My niggas don't keep 'em or cuff 'em end of discussion
Niggas out here bluffin, mother had 'em, mother love 'em, motherfuck 'em
Cause even they mothers won't be able to identify 'em
[?], had to fry 'em, hit them with that iron
My niggas don't talk, my niggas don't bitch, my niggas don't snitch
Niggas is hungry, fiend for chips, my niggas'll flip and run in your shit
My niggas got Ks, my niggas got MACs, my niggas got TECs, my niggas equipped
Man my niggas down to leave your body stiff for the chips
This for my niggas
2x[Hook]
Verse 2: (Hayes)
Fuck them fake niggas they don't know what loyal is, dropped out of school and started fights with the spoiled kids
Thought I was broke 'til I discovered what a brick was, 850 thousand got me big love
Tricked some, became a legend in them strip clubs, but I was bigger in the streets from fuckin with them thugs
A hood rat's dream, a ghetto nigga's idol, we the champions in the streets man we hold the title
Made more money off the block than preachers with them bibles, don't be steppin out of line that gets suicidal
I got a lot of killers, we got a lot of guns, no respect for shit, murder anyone
4x[Hook]
Verse 3: (Hayes+Freddie Gibbs)
Hayes the heroin man, Gibbs slang them the weed
You got what they want, I got what they need
These niggas bleed for the yola from Gary to Minnesota, hold the toaster 'til I'm rolling in Rovers and Testarossas and Bentleys without the top, what you got?
No patience and an army of hundred niggas thats outside waiting, for a nigga to front, that'll get him Christmas treed
Lit up real good in front his whole family
Man, this ain't no fuckin game, you don't wanna see me with that thang
Ducked off in a cud box with an SK and a Glock don't test my aim
Don't test my crew keep more protection than an AIDS clinic, trunk big enough to fit you, ten bricks, and a gauge in it
Yeah, hundred round drum in my [?], and niggas'll [?] if they get out of line
Pull out the llama, you dead where you layin, and bullets will spray if you fuckin with mine, nigga
I love my block, they make that hood paper stack for me, my mother proud of me, still think its rap money
4x[Hook]
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