Eastside Moonwalker lyrics

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

FREDDIE GIBBS lyrics : "Eastside Moonwalker"

[Verse 1]
Lifestyles of the insane
Eastside thug ^!$$%

I'm the %#@!, you a %#@!-stain
I let the boxframe switch lanes
Not a pretty ^!$$%, but I got some game for a (*##$ brain

And I lay it on so thick
Charge it all to a broad, heard a pimp ^!$$% quote this
And I'm allergic to a broke (*##$

I think I need my medicine
I had to po up before I wrote this
And doing dirt will keep a ^!$$% with a deep pocket

Dope fiends and the cluckheads keep shopping
Steady praying that the yayo keep clocking
Keep a strap cuz the jackboys keep robbing

Got me pulling up slow
Whip another clip and put my pedal to the floor
Slammin Cadillac doors, working wood like a pro

Ass sit on nothing but that leather, whatcha know
How ya livin ^!$$%?
Lifestyles of the insane

Roll the kill, pop a pill, crack a seal, I resist pain
Niggas looking for that big stain
Dirt weed, dog food, fine kush, ^!$$%s flip caine

Think I lost my religion
Stepping on a pack, break em off in the kitchen
Chevy topped off with the chrome in the engine

Niggas gotta floss, that's the cost of this pimpin
I'mma pull up slow
[Hook]

I'mma pull it up slow
Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door
I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow
Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor
I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow
Run up with the mask, put them hoes on the floor
I'mma pull it up slow

I'mma pull it up slow
Candy paint dripping from my Cadillac door
I'mma pull it up slow

[Verse 2]
It's the money cut moonwalker
Nightstalker, mother$#[email protected] white chalker, might've caught ya

In the streets with your pants down
Tell em call the paramedics, ^!$$% man down, ease up
If ya thuggin get ya G's up

And never fake, never fraud, never fold, never freeze up
A black mask, black tee'd up
The mother$#[email protected] dope game feed us, how ya livin ^!$$%?

And rest in peace to my mother$#[email protected] homeboy
But hold ya tears, he ain't die, he just a $#[email protected]
You might as well be a dead man in my eyes

2-2-3 sucker free when I ride
Freddie Kane, Freddie Corleone
Selling thangs to the smokers in the mobile homes

A pack of backwoods
Dirty styrofoam and a pocket full of stones
And my cadillac broham, Ima pull up slow

[Hook]

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Thanks to maria.01215

Writer(s): Freddie Gibbs
Copyright: Sony/ATV Harmony, Willie Watts Music
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