[Intro:
Third World Man
]
Six million dollar cyan buy my soul
I ain’t no bionic man
See, they think I’m a fuck nigga
But if they ever see me, then they might have to duck, nigga
Like what, nigga?
Before your ass can answer, get your whole shit bust, nigga
Done rose out them ashes, drinking Fiji water
Wanna pull me in that fire while I’m tryna feed my daughter
Wanna snatch my momma’s plate, and tell her she can’t eat
Then we gon’ have us some discrepancies right here in this street
Because the weak don’t speak, get left in silence
And when you don’t listen, gotta speak with violence
And duct tape the grandmomma, strip a man of all his honor
Tryna be a G, now you wish you a goner
I walk with the Gods with a tongue for the devil
Tryna keep a nigga thirsty, so for rain, I pray mercy
The return of the gangster, ’cause niggas don’t believe
I roll hotter than my sleeve, leave a nigga in the street
The return of the gangster, ’cause niggas got bills
This rap shit don’t work, then it’s back to selling krills
Return of the gangster, ’cause niggas want that real
Want that old Danny Brown, but nigga, I’m like, “Chill”
The return of the gangster, fuck a hipster, squeeze a trigger
You got me fucked up, I’m a hood-ass nigga
Ugh
Gibbs
E-S to the G-N
Eastside niggas keep roaches in the ashtray
Twenty thousand out the public housing on a bad day
Drop it in the pot, if it ain’t locking, that’s some bad yay’
Tryna save my soul, I wish the Lord would meet me halfway
Devil on my shoulder as I’m whipping up this yola
And that motor hit the rotor, ship this blow to Minnesota
Only option is a shootout if the police pull me over
This shit get realer than shit that’s on your PlayStation controller
Call of Duty ass nigga, dick-in-the-booty-ass nigga
Don’t pour or roll no dough up, then I don’t get no cash with you
Feel like, “Fuck the world,” it ain’t no friends up in this business
Fuck my label, show them I’m the real realest nigga in it
Gangsta Gibbs
Nigga
Bitch…
It’s the return of the gangsta, thanks to
These phony-ass wannabe thug perpetrators and wankstas
Your white tee turn to tie-dye, nigga, I red-paint you
Won’t stress or cry about it, ’cause it’s not in my nature
It’s the return of the gangsta, thanks to
These phony-ass wannabe thug perpetrators and wankstas
Your white tee turn to tie-dye, nigga, I red-paint you
Won’t stress or cry about it, ’cause it’s not in my nature, motherfucker
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