Extradite (feat. Black Thought) - Freddie Gibbs

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Embed: Talkin' hard, soft, heroin, green, that's what we had boy
Erica was the bag lady, I was the bag boy
Option was that minimum wage, live in a cage
Buildin' a prison everyday, man they cultivatin' these slaves
In this new age, dude's wage is fugaz'
I'm the whole gallon and half pint like School Daze
I been killin' 'em, since Kool Moe Dee, Ra', Kool, 'Face
Zero dollars, zero tolerance, lettin' that tool bang, nigga

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

I used to lay in bed, starin' at the ceilin' fan
Feelin' cramps, wishin' I could get a killer gram
Tryna understand, why I wanna kill a man
With high hopes like rubber tree, plants, and ants
We cheat death, with each breath, the only one who make -
It last forever is Keith Sweat, you ever see a -
Body lyin' dead, in the streets yet, then eat breakfast?
Swallow forced beliefs like police justice
If my city is like yours, then cereal scratch
Fingerprints is wiped off, if people seem to -
Always have somethin' to fight for, but still end up -
In the state pen, or the psych ward - It's lights off
They catch so many casualties; it's like war
That's the reason, I don't believe in the hype, y'all
The devil talkin' bout, he wanna extradite y'all
Now I'm the nigga, He shinin' the search light for

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

Here we come now, here we come now
Yeah, freestyle nigga

Homie showed me a 9 milli, and 9 nickel
Man, I'll stay on point like icicle
Say you got that yola, your fishscale lookin' fickle
They like Jordans out of the gas station, they ain't official
I got thousand dollar jeans, on my ass cheek
Cousin got her lights, and her gas cut last week
How that make me look, if I don't help her get up on her feet?
She keep a different nigga, now she in there, pregnant every week
I pray you, take these devils out our life, lord - That's our vice, lord
Baby momma's come with the drama, made her my wife lord
Know I'm doing, no hope you see I'm trying to do right, lord
Shake 'em up and blowin' the dice, I pray the price, lord, lord

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
'Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
Yeah, yeah, and if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

Yo, my memoirs are like the Anarchist's Cookbook
Meets the Tom Ford spring/summer look book
Some people wanna see me hanging from a good Instead I hang with a language and slang in -
The anguish, and pain fit as well, cause it came with us
After all these years, carrying this shame with us
Now the entire planet, is going insane with us
Seven year old kids, carrying flame spitters
Fortified fences, mortify senses
Crossfire, miss my little daughter, by inches
Chemical dependence, medical expenses
But no amount of money on earth, can buy vengeance
Writing a life sentence, sirens, fire engines
Tyrants, seen through the eyes, of the wide lenses
Senseless crimes, cause some of us want to drive Benzes
But are you tryna ride with us, or against us?

As long as they kill us
And go to Wendy's and have a burger and go to sleep
They gon' keep killing us
But when we die and they die
Then soon we gon' sit at a table, and talk about it, retired
We want some of this earth
Or we'll this goddamn country apart!
Assalamualaikum!Lyrics provided by TANCODEhttp://lyricsever.com/" readonly=""/>

Extradite (feat. Black Thought) Lyrics

The devil is a motherfuckin' liar
Straight kill 'em
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Here we come though

Took his order, then I served his quarter like five nickels
Man, I'll stay on point like icicle
Niggas can't decode, or figure my rhyme riddles
Took my money to the source, and said "Fuck the man in the middle"
Talkin' hard, soft, heroin, green, that's what we had boy
Erica was the bag lady, I was the bag boy
Option was that minimum wage, live in a cage
Buildin' a prison everyday, man they cultivatin' these slaves
In this new age, dude's wage is fugaz'
I'm the whole gallon and half pint like School Daze
I been killin' 'em, since Kool Moe Dee, Ra', Kool, 'Face
Zero dollars, zero tolerance, lettin' that tool bang, nigga

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

I used to lay in bed, starin' at the ceilin' fan
Feelin' cramps, wishin' I could get a killer gram
Tryna understand, why I wanna kill a man
With high hopes like rubber tree, plants, and ants
We cheat death, with each breath, the only one who make -
It last forever is Keith Sweat, you ever see a -
Body lyin' dead, in the streets yet, then eat breakfast?
Swallow forced beliefs like police justice
If my city is like yours, then cereal scratch
Fingerprints is wiped off, if people seem to -
Always have somethin' to fight for, but still end up -
In the state pen, or the psych ward - It's lights off
They catch so many casualties; it's like war
That's the reason, I don't believe in the hype, y'all
The devil talkin' bout, he wanna extradite y'all
Now I'm the nigga, He shinin' the search light for

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

Here we come now, here we come now
Yeah, freestyle nigga

Homie showed me a 9 milli, and 9 nickel
Man, I'll stay on point like icicle
Say you got that yola, your fishscale lookin' fickle
They like Jordans out of the gas station, they ain't official
I got thousand dollar jeans, on my ass cheek
Cousin got her lights, and her gas cut last week
How that make me look, if I don't help her get up on her feet?
She keep a different nigga, now she in there, pregnant every week
I pray you, take these devils out our life, lord - That's our vice, lord
Baby momma's come with the drama, made her my wife lord
Know I'm doing, no hope you see I'm trying to do right, lord
Shake 'em up and blowin' the dice, I pray the price, lord, lord

Yeah, nigga
And if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday
'Bout the Michael Jackson, beat it, I mean it, I got a powder day
And nothin' funny, but I play with the money like it's Monopoly
Yeah, yeah, and if the devil die today, I'mma treat it like it's a holiday

Yo, my memoirs are like the Anarchist's Cookbook
Meets the Tom Ford spring/summer look book
Some people wanna see me hanging from a good Instead I hang with a language and slang in -
The anguish, and pain fit as well, cause it came with us
After all these years, carrying this shame with us
Now the entire planet, is going insane with us
Seven year old kids, carrying flame spitters
Fortified fences, mortify senses
Crossfire, miss my little daughter, by inches
Chemical dependence, medical expenses
But no amount of money on earth, can buy vengeance
Writing a life sentence, sirens, fire engines
Tyrants, seen through the eyes, of the wide lenses
Senseless crimes, cause some of us want to drive Benzes
But are you tryna ride with us, or against us?

As long as they kill us
And go to Wendy's and have a burger and go to sleep
They gon' keep killing us
But when we die and they die
Then soon we gon' sit at a table, and talk about it, retired
We want some of this earth
Or we'll this goddamn country apart!
Assalamualaikum!

Lyrics provided by LyricsEver.com
Freddie Tipton (born June 14, 1982 in Gary, Indiana), better known as Freddie Gibbs, is an American rapper best known for being one of XXL Magazine's ten Freshmen of 2010. He was previously signed to Interscope Records before being let go from his deal without an official record being released. He has released five mixtapes since his first in 2005 including Live From Gary, Indiana, Big Bizness, The Miseducation of Freddie Gibbs, midwestgangstaboxframecadillacmuzik and Str8 Killa No Filla. The Str8 Killa EP was released 3rd August. His debut LP Baby-Faced Killa and The Devil's Palace, a collaborative project with The Alchemist, were both released in 2012. He then would go on to release Cold Day in Hell in 2012, and ESGN in 2013. In 2014, Gibbs released Pinata, a collaborative album with producer Madlib, and The Tonite Show, another collaborative album with The World's Freshest. Gibbs newest album Shadow of a Doubt is planned to best released on November 20th via ESGN / EMPIRE.

Hailing from Gary, Indiana, a place whose murder and crime rates have ranked it several times at the top of the "Most Dangerous Cities" list, Freddie Gibbs is the true definition of a street survivor. Raised on Gary's east side, Gibbs lived the hard life firsthand in a run-down industrial community plagued with vice and ignored by the establishment. After playing at Ball State on a football scholarship, Gibbs was kicked out of college. Over the next few years he went through court-ordered boot camp, joined and got discharged from the military, and held down a series of 9 to 5 jobs without success. Feeling like the system had failed him, Gibbs turned to hustling; pimping and selling crack out of a local house. Inspired by rappers like UGK, The Geto Boys, and 2Pac, Gibbs started rhyming about his life and the issues facing urban youth in Gary and the countless other impoverished cities just like it. Gibbs is the first rapper signed to a major label from Gary.

The Steel City's most famous musical residents to date are the Jackson 5, whose name still adorns a marquee on a falling-apart theater in Gary's blighted downtown. His desire to rep the Midwest and his city led Gibbs to start recording mixtapes and pushing them online as well as the streets, where he quickly began garnering fans drawn to his original style, diverse flows, and deeply personal lyrics about his experience as a young black man growing up below the poverty line in a forgotten American city.

Freddie has worked with respected producers like Madlib, Red Spyda, Just Blaze, Buckwild, the Alchemist, Polow Da Don, and Collipark among many others. Gibbs cites Houston rap and Pac as his major influences, and it shows in his ability to alternate between chillingly tense street stories of violence and laid back comedic tales about women and weed. Ultimately Gibbs shows and proves with his rhymes, which demonstrate the promise of a legend in the making. His skills, wit, and street credibility establish Freddie Gibbs as a true artist. He's ready to represent for Gary, the Midwest, and anyone who relates to the struggle of inner city life. As Gibbs tells it: "My music is definitely on some gangsta shit. That's what I was raised on and what I witnessed. How can I speak on anything else?" "Become a fan now, or become one later." Read more on Last.fm. User-contributed text is available under the Creative Commons By-SA License; additional terms may apply.

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Freddie Gibbs