(You can only die once)
Bitch, that, bitch, that doorman been had weight (yeah)
Make sure my fam ate (slatt)
Still young cocaine, ain't shit changed since my last tape (ah)
Still packin' on probation, motherf*ck police mandate (yeah)
Nigga wanna vote, but I don't really f*ck with nan' candidate (nah)
A little birdie flew up in my hand today (woo)
Motorola goin' HAM today (uh)
Twenty-eights to a fifty-six
Two into splits, how many grams today?
Prices high, but nigga gotta pay
We ain't takin' no shorts, nigga (nah)
Stamped the game with my own name, I don't promote or endorse niggas
Got a house on the golf course, nigga
All from wrappin' up that package (yeah)
Solo with my strap, I ain't got my mans, then gotta have it (yeah)
Then drove a new Denali with a thousand bricks from Dallas (yeah)
Manufactured drug infraction, police faction, know my status on the throne, nigga
When you gettin' rich and your homies not, can't trust your own niggas
But don't get too high and push 'em away 'cause then you alone, nigga
The boss nigga keep his balance (yeah)
This Frederico Soprano, mafioso be my status, gangster Gibbs
Guess who's back, motherf*cker?
The prince of darkness
But in South Central, they just call me Andre
But look, you know
I can't always talk like that, I be tryin' to make it sound big
And, like, hella menacing 'cause I know niggas be scared
But it's your boy, man, it's the devil, man, look here
Gibbs, what's up, man? Like, you really been strayin' from the program, my guy
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
Wake up (get the f*ck up)
Status Video (MV)
Performed By: Freddie Gibbs
From Album: You Only Die 1nce
Language: English
Length: 2:19
Written by: Andrew Papaleo, Fredrick Jamel Tipton, Kyle Smith
Year: 2024
Freddie Gibbs - Status Lyrics
Official
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
(You can only die once)
Bitch, that, bitch, that doorman been had weight (yeah)
Make sure my fam ate (slatt)
Still young cocaine, ain't shit changed since my last tape (ah)
Still packin' on probation, motherf*ck police mandate (yeah)
Nigga wanna vote, but I don't really f*ck with nan' candidate (nah)
A little birdie flew up in my hand today (woo)
Motorola goin' HAM today (uh)
Twenty-eights to a fifty-six
Two into splits, how many grams today?
Prices high, but nigga gotta pay
We ain't takin' no shorts, nigga (nah)
Stamped the game with my own name, I don't promote or endorse niggas
Got a house on the golf course, nigga
All from wrappin' up that package (yeah)
Solo with my strap, I ain't got my mans, then gotta have it (yeah)
Then drove a new Denali with a thousand bricks from Dallas (yeah)
Manufactured drug infraction, police faction, know my status on the throne, nigga
When you gettin' rich and your homies not, can't trust your own niggas
But don't get too high and push 'em away 'cause then you alone, nigga
The boss nigga keep his balance (yeah)
This Frederico Soprano, mafioso be my status, gangster Gibbs
Guess who's back, motherf*cker?
The prince of darkness
But in South Central, they just call me Andre
But look, you know
I can't always talk like that, I be tryin' to make it sound big
And, like, hella menacing 'cause I know niggas be scared
But it's your boy, man, it's the devil, man, look here
Gibbs, what's up, man? Like, you really been strayin' from the program, my guy
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
Wake up (get the f*ck up)
Bitch, that, bitch, that doorman been had weight (yeah)
Make sure my fam ate (slatt)
Still young cocaine, ain't shit changed since my last tape (ah)
Still packin' on probation, motherf*ck police mandate (yeah)
Nigga wanna vote, but I don't really f*ck with nan' candidate (nah)
A little birdie flew up in my hand today (woo)
Motorola goin' HAM today (uh)
Twenty-eights to a fifty-six
Two into splits, how many grams today?
Prices high, but nigga gotta pay
We ain't takin' no shorts, nigga (nah)
Stamped the game with my own name, I don't promote or endorse niggas
Got a house on the golf course, nigga
All from wrappin' up that package (yeah)
Solo with my strap, I ain't got my mans, then gotta have it (yeah)
Then drove a new Denali with a thousand bricks from Dallas (yeah)
Manufactured drug infraction, police faction, know my status on the throne, nigga
When you gettin' rich and your homies not, can't trust your own niggas
But don't get too high and push 'em away 'cause then you alone, nigga
The boss nigga keep his balance (yeah)
This Frederico Soprano, mafioso be my status, gangster Gibbs
Guess who's back, motherf*cker?
The prince of darkness
But in South Central, they just call me Andre
But look, you know
I can't always talk like that, I be tryin' to make it sound big
And, like, hella menacing 'cause I know niggas be scared
But it's your boy, man, it's the devil, man, look here
Gibbs, what's up, man? Like, you really been strayin' from the program, my guy
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
I got you, my nigga
Wake up (get the f*ck up)
Writer: Andrew Papaleo, Fredrick Jamel Tipton, Kyle Smith
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Copyright: Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
