Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song D.O.A., artist - Freddie Gibbs. Date of issue: 18.06.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
D.O.A. |
| Yeah, fa’sho |
| Bitch, uh |
| I’m a real-made nigga |
| Certified grave nigga |
| I’m a real-made nigga |
| Certified grave digga |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya |
| I’m a street-paid nigga |
| Tryna catch a fade with ya |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya, bitch |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| Them boys is stinkin' |
| East side G.I., we don’t serve no strangers |
| My bitch is stinkin' |
| My junkies say they need that wake up |
| My kitchen stinkin' |
| It’s a straight bake sale when I cook that cake up |
| Mobbin'-ass nigga, fuck a project-ass nigga |
| Serve the pack, man, call the trash man for these garbage-ass niggas |
| Say these motherfuckers scared to rob a robbin'-ass nigga |
| Send you back to your connect, you short a lot of bands, nigga |
| Gangsta Gibbs, baby greasier than Weezy at the All-Star |
| Way too often, Jeezy, he wasn’t even in my ballpark |
| Swing straight for the fence and drop my nuts down on the plate |
| I made your favorite rapper want to put a price up on my face |
| It’s Gangsta Gibbs |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| Real-made nigga |
| Certified grave digga |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya |
| I’m a real-made nigga |
| Certified grave digga |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya, bitch |
| D.O.A., get it how I live it when I let that four go |
| Naptown nigga, done made it, emergin' fresh out the dope smoke |
| All my niggas hustlers and killers, green light we all go |
| Send 'em all to they makers and close casket they funerals |
| No smilin', came up out a dirty alley with the thugs |
| Bangin' TECs and reppin' sets, young connoisseurs with them drugs |
| Pack the baggage, flip the cabbage, keep it slammin' every day |
| How the fuck niggas talkin' bout R.I.P. |
| when boy you 'bout to |
| D.O.A. |
| yourself? |
| Bang bang bang, gang bang is all I fuckin' know |
| Blazin' rocks with killers and some motherfuckin' cutthroats |
| And I know Colombians that bring it by the fuckin' boat |
| Clap they ass, put they ass face down on the fuckin' floor |
| Hit a couple corners and nigga know I got the blow |
| Hit a couple corners now and nigga know I got the store |
| Ridin' down Grant Boulevard, pullin' out the four |
| On my way to Ham Block, finna cut some more dope |
| Kill |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| I fuck with gangstas |
| Man, all my niggas make the papers |
| Real-made nigga |
| Certified grave digga |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya |
| I’m a real-made nigga |
| Certified grave digga |
| D.O.A., it’s how I play |
| I let the fuckin' things hit ya, bitch |