Lyrics Oil Money - Freddie Gibbs
Where
do
we
have
to
go?
I
don't
know,
let
me
know
where
we
end
up
Cause
I'm
not
about
to
sit
and
watch
it
get
us
Just
picture
the
stickers
is
on
it
And
its
flashy,
flauntin‘,
funny
but
them
people
only
want
that
gold
to
pawn
it
I
need
that
gold
to
wear
it
on
the
court
like
I'm
Jordan
Performin‘,
I'm
scorin'
way
more
than
I'm
supposed
to
And
I'm
lookin'
way
better
in
person
than
my
photos
But
lets
not
talk
about
me
Lets
talk
about
this
If
it's
too
hot,
then
take
your
hands
off
Pass
it
like
Joe
Montana
Champions
Hats
off,
salute
Now
what
do
you
look
forward
to,
the
landing
or
the
take
off
Get
back,
cause
them
Apes
I
gotta
Harlem
Shake
off
I
got
the
paint;
I
just
need
some
shit
to
paint
on
This
is
a
lullaby
Not
intended
to
make
you
cry
But
to
open
up
your
eyes
And
in
this
lullaby
You
got
to
do
right
Before
you
die
Before
you
die
Cleveland
nigga,
wintertime
I
catch
a
flight
to
somewhere
sunny
Come
to
visit
Fuck
yo
couch
they
shouldn't
have
gave
us
niggas
money
For
the
honeys
Like
they
woulda
said
in
‘94
Bumpin'
Jodisee,
and
anything
I
say'll
prolly
go
While
we
smoking
in
that
‘Lac
truck,
headed
to
the
mall
Now
we
coppin'
even
though
I
left
my
wallet
in
the
car
Yeah
she
got
it,
deposit:
we
got
it,
good
credit,
good
head,
and
it's
all
copasetic
She
cool
and
she
get
it,
priceless
And
nice
tits,
she
got
that
look
twice
chest,
she
righteous;
we
might
just
Valet
the
Mercedes
in
the
front
just
to
give
‘em
what
they
want
Cameras
flashin',
hoppin'
out
with
the
blunt
Who
knew
this
rappin'
shit
would
pay
off
I'm
firin'
up
the
kill
like
I
got
fired
on
my
day
off
Seen
a
whole
lotta
niggas
get
broken
by
some
broad
they
like
to
break
off
And
the
same
old
bitch
they
spent
that
change
with
be
the
same
bitch
I'm
gon'
shake
off
The
monster
of
the
mid
yo
Quick
to
Richard
Dent
a
nigga
Peace
to
all
my
OT
hoes
and
the
gifts
they
love
to
send
a
nigga
Fresh
white
socks
and
a
black
d
bones
We
done
broke
down
bags
with
the
realest
niggas
Spittin'
these
flows
on
stage
at
the
show,
blowin'
Optimos
and
Swishas
witcha
(Feel
it
nigga?)
If
y'all
don't,
then
I
can
keep
my
day
job
Ski
mask
my
uniform,
them
dope
dealers
gon'
stay
robbed
T-top
ceiling
and
my
dank
still
stankin'
and
I
crush
ya
feelings
like
the
Saints
did
Peyton
Fresh
pair
of
Levi's,
white
tee,
and
6 Carmines
Hoppin'
out
some
2010
shit;
yes,
the
car's
mine
Sittin'
in
Corinthians
sit
back
watch
the
stars
shine
I
know
you
starstruck,
shit
I
can
leave
a
star
blind
Booyah,
just
like
Isiah
A
playa,
the
pro
bowl,
the
mayor
I'm
so
cold,
they
stare
The
ho
stroll's
prepared,
I'm
pimpin'
my
ride
out
Then
back
to
my
lair
The
honeycomb
hideout
Your
honey's
gon'
hide
out
in
my
crib
like
a
fugitive
She
wanna
have
a
ball;
I
told
her
I
got
two
to
give
She
wanna
see
the
flashin'
lights
and
red
carpet
I
let
her
pop
a
double
stack,
I'm
tryin'
to
start
shit
She's
on
a
bear
skin,
layin'
in
her
bare
skin
Her
body's
super
thick
and
it's
fair
skin
- I'm
there
then
On
the
sofa,
smokin'
jacket,
Gucci
loafers,
and
I'm
blowin'
on
a
Swisher,
while
she's
blowin'
me
It's
over
It's
over
It's
over
It's
over
It's
over
It's
over
Attention! Feel free to leave feedback.