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Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist – God Is Perfect Lyrics

God Is Perfect By Freddie Gibbs & The Alchemist

Aight, check it out
Uh, gang, gang
Yeah, will it ever be the same?
Uh, Big Fivo, yeah
Uh, yeah, yeah, yeah (Yeah)
It’s here (Uh)
Yeah
(One, two) Yeah, yeah
(Hold up, hold up) Yeah, yeah
Kane train baby
(One, two, new flow, check it out)

Microphone check, one, two, mic checka
Still rep that block, still burn a lot, I pray to Mecca
All this gang shit in my vein, I got the rake, I got the blessin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure
Slippin’ tiki in my kiki, I’m with Dee-Dee and Vanessa
Top-notch bitches on my roster get the most and nothin’ lesser
Poppa met me in the valley, drop the ho all up with nothin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure, yessir

I didn’t want to speak on this shit but it really been rackin’ my brain now (Yeah, yeah)
‘Cause really I fuck with this rap but my niggas still sellin’ cocaine now (Huh, yeah)
Them crackers they got enough on us to go start a motherfuckin’ case now (Yeah)
A nigga get hit with the R.I.C.O, they comin’, they snatchin’ the gang now
Big sticks longer’n a bitch, golfball holes in this shit
Big Fen ball in this bitch
‘Cause with Willy brother all in the six
Had a piper, shoulda wore a diaper
When I hit him, left his draws full of shit
Niggas blow at us, they gettin’ blown down
But I’ll be so proud to put the dope down

For the microphone check, one, two, mic checka
Still rep that block, still burn a lot, I pray to Mecca
All this gang shit in my vein, I got the rake, I got the blessin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure
Yessir, microphone check, one, two, mic checka
Still rep that block, still burn a lot, I pray to Mecca
All this gang shit in my vein, I got the rake, I got the blessin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure, yessir

Gangland shit
Fuck around, get gangland hit
I’ma catch a little bitch while he’s chillin’ with his clique
Nigga where the whole gang at, bitch?
Where the watch and the chain at, bitch?
Set ’em up, yeah, I drained that bitch
I was fuckin’ in the A, for like four days straight
But a nigga never claim that bitch
I be talkin’ that shit like I’m bulletproof
Fuck a DM I’m sendin’ them killers through
I be fuckin’ with the Gs, Crips, Bloods, BDs
Man, this shit get political
Hit the John, I’m whippin’ the miracle
Get the spoon, I’m scrapin’ the residue
Man, I shop with Colombianos and the Mexicanos
Man, this shit get political

Rock it up then blade that shit
Dog food nigga slang that shit
Niggas shot at me and miss with the whole damn clip
Yeah, the bitch couldn’t aim that shit
Nigga might get gangland hit
East side sang that shit
Niggas shot at me and miss with the whole damn clip
Yeah, the bitch couldn’t aim that shit
Fuck nigga

Microphone check, one, two, mic checka
Still rep that block, still burn a lot, I pray to Mecca
All this gang shit in my vein, I got the rake, I got the blessin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure
Yessir, microphone check, one, two, mic checka
Still rep that block, still burn a lot, I pray to Mecca
All this gang shit in my vein, I got the rake, I got the blessin’
Take some measures out the brick
We press a brick, it ain’t no pressure, yessir

Yo
Yo, I would like to say, you know?
My man Kane smoked him, you know?
But there is supposed to be a reason when you kill somebody
Don’t use somebody else for shit