Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Friends & Foes, artist - G Herbo. Date of issue: 28.05.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Friends & Foes |
| Where would I be without rap? |
| Nobody really knows |
| Me and Gregg was sharin' clothes, but we wasn’t really bros |
| We was tryna impress them hoes, kept us on our toes |
| I had 25 in high school, like I’m Derrick Rose |
| I had a Glock when I met Pistol P, that’s on my soul |
| Hat always cocked back to the left 'cause I grew up with the moes |
| And I was thuggin' hard with shawty like I’m one of the 4s |
| I had some shootouts with my bronem, I had to give it and go |
| Shit got hot, we start swapping most of 'em, still got one of the old ones |
| though |
| Might hang that bitch in a frame for show |
| That’s the one that my big bro used to throw |
| We ain’t learn how to blow in no range, no |
| Pop out, flame out the Wrangler door |
| Might could’ve blew out my brains, though |
| Niggas must ain’t got no aim no more |
| Niggas left me in the rain some more |
| I found some gold in the rainbow, though |
| They say I got money and changed the most |
| Please don’t forget I’m still dangerous, though |
| Still’ll walk up on a stranger, though |
| Gangster shit run in my veins for sure |
| I wanna change 'em, though |
| Know how to channel my anger, though |
| Oh, we ain’t gone save 'em, no |
| Where his hood at? |
| We gon' name him, though |
| Oh, yeah, I’m famous, so? |
| None of my killers want payment, though |
| Oh, we ain’t 'posed to be bangin', no |
| Me and my niggas, we hangin', though |
| Oh, I don’t wanna be slangin' dope |
| This pistol don’t ever stop rangin', though |
| Ayy, I don’t panic |
| Whips be panoramic |
| I was sellin' dope at my granny’s |
| Xanny’s, yeah, I need a Grammy, oh |
| Need another big ass mansion, uh |
| Big yard, big ass hammock, uh |
| Wrist all wet, Atlantic |
| Bitch, it’s big bucks, no whammies |
| My bitch need attention, she bad as fuck |
| And she got lips like Angela |
| You know a young nigga done ran it up |
| Damn, I could buy her a phantom, huh? |
| Where that come from? |
| That was random, huh? |
| Die for respect, I demand it |
| I was dead broke, now I’m rich, can’t stand it |
| Tell me why niggas hate Randy |
| G Herbo, fuck niggas can’t stand me, huh |
| Worth a couple mil, I’m branded, uh |
| Special nigga 'cause I’m left handed, huh |
| Niggas namin' shit, I had it |
| I ran through that sack like I must’ve forgot it |
| I helped niggas out when I should’ve bought a Patek |
| They sneak diss a lot, but they don’t want no static |
| You savages should be no rumor, you ratted |
| I bought my first pipe, cuzzo said I could have it |
| At G Fazo house, me and in the attic |
| Kay Fazo was here, used to sit and imagine |
| Then pull on they block just to shoot what we averagin' |
| Ladders and horses and carriages, you know we clappin' shit |
| Opps, we embarrass 'em, ayy |
| We ain’t gon' hop out no caravan, ayy |
| Foenem might fire up yo' cameraman, ayy |
| Real street niggas I represent |
| Long live Bapo and Hellabandz |
| Ain’t nothin' but trappers and bappers in here |
| Who the fuck let all these rappers in? |
| We ain’t with none of that chitchat, uh-uh |
| You ain’t never hear no click-clack |
| Shawty 'n' 'em ready to kidnap somethin' |
| Send his arm home in a gift wrap for 'em |
| Push a nigga shit back some |
| Homie 'n' 'em might want some get-back for 'em |
| We finna slide tonight, heard his homie 'n' 'em tryna have a kickback for 'em |
| Broski the driver, got my window rolled down in the rear back some |
| Just havin' fun, that’s the type of shit I did, I was young |
| I shed a tear for my young, nigga, I kill for my son |
| And before I met him, I was numb |
| Let a nigga feel my drum |
| A lot of niggas think I’m dumb |
| I’ma just let 'em think what they want |
| They probably think I’m a punk |
| Niggas probably really think I ain’t gon' dump |
| I’m the type to let 'em front |
| Leave a nigga ass all in Nieman slumped, uh |
| After I feed a nigga hollow tips, I need a blunt |
| Sick and tired of smokin' all this Gelato, shit, I need some Runtz |
| Finna get another 150 charm real quick, I need a font |
| 40 thousand go out every first of the month |
| Just for livin', always been that nigga, so you never could front |
| Just be consistent |
| Pulled up on some flexin' shit, like, «Yeah, bitch, we did it» |
| Add up these digits |
| Naw, not that, that’s just a lil' million |
| Uh, uh |