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Uh, Lebron number nine I guess whenever she ain't on this dick, I'm on her mind It's quite cliche to just say that I'm on my grind And phone conversations ain't substitution for time in another city Reminisce on days when I ain't have a fucking penny These groupie bitches in this game wasn't fucking with me Couldn't get a dollar for a rap show Got a gun, a ski mask and a half an ounce of crack, though Slammin', in the pizza shop with Jacque Last dollar on a slice, this contraband in my sock, wish you knew the feeling We're both so different, but our situations so appealing Now I can't make it without you girl, you my new religion And every hustler need a main thing Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change Uh, said every hustler needs a main thing Baby, once I get it I'mma make your last name change Gibbs, uh We still socking Glock is still popping Paper still dropping Lord, it ain't stopping Girl, I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper Yeah, the blocks still cracking, and girl, know what I'm packing And if you pop off, you gon' know what I'm jacking But I'm coming home, as soon as I get this paper Ayo, summertime, 105 Getting mine, the smoke line They want the Kush, the Cali kind I smoke wit' her, I choke wit' it, get dosed wit' her A go-getter, helped me come up from a broke nigga The home team And she ain't just in my pocket, she got her own cream Sometimes I slip at the mouth, I might say the wrong thing And once we fight, it's back to fucking My polos and my Timbos out the window, but its nothin', what Uh, said once we fight, it's back to fucking I bend that ass right over on the sofa, like it's nothing So bust it open for a player, nose to your fucking toes I'm coming home, don't be tripping on them other hoes --- Home - Madlib, Freddie Gibbs and BJ the Chicago Kid