
Lyrics: rapgenius.com [Verse 1] I grew up wishing my life would be like the Cosby's, I go that extra mile to escape this ghetto monotony, See how this vicious cycle could fuck wit you psychologically, You better cooperate with the state or become they property, Bitch my name be breaking bail from the street to the jailhouse, And it ain't no transaction unless I came wit my scale out, Roll in yo college, I just might fuck up and fail out, Fucking bitch after bitch, stacking my chips, all I care bout, Fuck wit GBA, bitch I need a CPA, come and count it up, Thousand thugs tryna catch him crowded around the bus, We start to throw down, if you down to fuck, then you down wit us, I know hoes that'll smoke a stick, 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 cuz he got set up and shot in the chest, Biggie ain't either, so wont y'all gon let them niggas rest? [chorus] I'm 187 proof, streets or the fucking booth I'm hard to kill like Steven Seagal wit yo fucking troops, Yo choppas ain't chopping shit if yo niggas ain't down to shoot, And I'm ready to RIP any nigga that y'all recruit, Cuz I'm 187 proof, streets or the fucking booth, I speak a foreign language, i think y'all call that the truth, It's Gibbs, bitch [verse 2] A walking 187, 187 crazy, Sick like Moammar Gadhafi, straight 187 babies, I reach for that reefer stench and my <b>...</b>
Freddie Gibbs
187 Proof
Cold Day In Hell
Gangsta Rap
midwestinyomouth