Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Womb 2 The Tomb, artist - Freddie Gibbs. Album song Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.12.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: ESGN
Song language: English
Womb 2 The Tomb |
That’s right |
I told y’all we was bringin' that Midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik to life |
today |
Gangster Gibbs |
(Sing that as a lullaby) |
It’s only the start |
I’m rolling solo in my four door, got my speakers on bang |
Trunk full of that , finna go make a stain with that cocaine |
I’m on my way to cop it, chop it, gotta get paper, bitch |
Got your favorite shit and what you lace it with? |
They hate the kid |
Niggas thought they could phase the kid |
Step back and appraise the kid |
The neck is lit, this major shit |
Niggas ain’t do me no favors, bitch |
Don’t ask for none |
And niggas that ain’t my peeps shouldn’t even think to speak |
I pack them guns, they yap and run |
You showed them my buzz? |
I’ll sweep your street |
We taking and making that dough, nigga |
Jacking and breaking them o’s, nigga |
Ask any motherfucker on my block |
Ms. Watts ain’t raise no hoes nigga |
I keep a bitch on her toes, nigga |
Freddie the one that she chose, nigga |
My dough bigger, my flow sicker than most niggas |
I show bitches that I ain’t the one they be playing with |
I’m ‘bout my money, my paper, my cheddar, my bread |
You hear me jap out on these beats |
‘Cause I’m in the streets, the streets is keeping me fed |
These niggas ‘ll leave me for dead, if they get the chance |
Come at my head to try to advance, but will I last? |
Fuck yea—‘cause I’m ‘a blast, nigga |
From the cradle to the grave, the womb to the tomb |
I’m ‘a get it, win or lose |
I’m just out here making moves |
From the womb to the tomb, to the cradle to the grave |
‘Til I check up out this bitch, I’m out this bitch |
Getting paid |
Ey, I can’t be hospitable |
If the shit ain’t profitable |
Send him to the hospital slow |
Then we gon' let his children know |
Can’t go places that Pill ‘ll go |
Might post up at the liquor store |
Chop it down and distribute blow |
Might get fresh and go pimp a hoe |
I didn’t know that’s your sister, though |
Look, stand under this mistletoe |
Give that four-five, a kiss, you bitch |
‘Fore I let this trigger go |
Cold-hearted for cash, a damn dummy for ducats |
Sold the hardest of glass |
My fam hungry, I’m bugging |
Trucking, tucking, don’t get stuck in shit |
What is this? |
The components of a fuck-you-upper, knuckle upper |
Gutter nigga, throw the baking soda |
Drop her proper |
English for the slow guys, Bacon Double Whopper |
I need more cheese and more fries |
From the rocker to the doctor |
Delivery room to the morgue |
If you live by the sword |
Take this chopper, go get guaped up |
Or get killed trying for it |
Take this chopper, go get guaped up |
Or get killed trying for it |
Yo, I done played niggas, made niggas |
Come up off that yay, nigga |
What you think you brave, nigga? |
I’m ‘a get down for my pay, nigga |
Spray niggas, lay niggas out flat |
«Will he live?» |
«I doubt that» |
Murder shit, I’m ‘bout that |
All the shit surrounding that |
Got niggas with cases, tears on faces |
Snitches conversating down at the station |
I smell bacon, so I’m laying low |
Still gotta get that paper, yo |
Pimp a bitch, break a hoe |
‘Til I come up on that major dough |
I could come up on some major blow |
Been in the Bay with that major weed |
Played the field, with major pills |
The shit that I got give niggas the chills |
This is the way that I live for real |
Young and trill |
I brung the steel against they will |
My lungs is filled with Cali kill |
I got that yac so crack the seal |
I stack them bill to half a mill |
Praying I never go broke again |
Got money-making methods |
And they respect it, whether they folks or (fed?) |
Refuse to lose and hope to win |
Strictly getting paid |
From the womb to the tomb |
From the cradle to the grave |