187 Proof

I grew up wishing my life would be like the Cosbys

I go that extra mile to escape this ghetto monotony

See how this vicious cycle could fuck wit' you psychologically

You best cooperate with the state or become they property

Bitch, my name be ringing bells from the street to the jailhouse

And it ain't no transaction unless I came wit' my scale out

Ain't enrolled in no college, I just might fuck up or fail out

Fucking bitch after bitches, stacking my chips, all I care 'bout

Fuck a GPA, bitch, I need a CPA, come and count it up

Thousand thugs be always tryna catch him in a crowd around the bus

Guess it's 'bout to go down, if you down to fuck then you down wit' us

I know hoes that don't smoke, but stay sloppy drunk and get powdered up

This corporate thug world, they like you but they love the realest

Straight Gary gangsta shit, didn't come up off no fucking gimmicks, bitch

2Pac ain't back 'cause he got set up and shot in the chest

Biggie ain't either, so won't y'all go let them **** rest?

I'm 187 proof, streets or the fucking booth

I'm hard to kill like Steven Seagal, where your fucking troops?

Them choppas ain't chopping shit if yo' **** ain't down to shoot

And I'm reckless, RIP, any **** that y'all recruit

'Cause I'm 187 proof, in the streets or the booth

I speak a foreign language, I think y'all call that the truth

Bitch, I'm 187 proof, in the streets or the booth

I speak a foreign language, I think y'all call that the truth

It's Gibbs, bitch

Corporate thug life (Yeah, ****, fo' sho)

Uh, turn up

A walking 187, 187 crazy

Sick like Muammar Gadhafi, straight 187 babies

I reach for that reefer stench, and my shit knocking Brotha Lynch

So lock me in correctional, but you can't fix me or fucking see me

You know who you fucking with? A **** with shit to lose

I got **** that rob you and rape yo' bitch if they in the mood

Check my record, I been a fool, semi-autos all in my locker

Flow stupid like I rode the bus to school with Waka Flocka

One-hundred-eighty-seven ways to die, bitch, this the end

Six **** put six-hundred holes in yo' 600 Benz

Bitch, I'm murder proof, I'ma live forever

Duncan Block, Virginia Street, bitch, we the clique together

Ask Pill who the real, bet he mention Gibbs

Killers in that 4th Ward, shout out to my ****, Slick

Shout out to my ****, Hit, west side murder cat

Some of my **** flow, but most of them beat that murder rep

Bitch, I'm 187 proof, in the streets or the booth

I speak a foreign language, I think y'all call that the truth

Bitch, I'm 187 proof, in the streets or the booth

I speak a foreign language, I think y'all call that the truth

Bitch, I'm 187 proof, in the streets or the booth

I speak a foreign language, I think y'all call that the truth

It's Gibbs, bitch