Till the Angels Come Lyrics
| Song | Till the Angels Come |
| Artist | Freddie Gibbs and Prodigy |
| Album | No Idols |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| I let you niggas have your 15 but | |
| I’m runnin’ next | |
| Abducted when | |
| I’m questioning something fuck only nothing less | |
| Use to hustle suckers for packs of gushers and tons of sex | |
| And I puff some pounds every month, | |
| I don’t be fuckin’ stressin’ | |
| No need to up the flexin’, got it till it’s nothing left | |
| Showing no contest, just laughing of who | |
| I’m up against | |
| Bunch of frail fucks, bitches with their tails tuck | |
| Hope you ain’t pick any believin’ that things will tell us | |
| Hope you ain’t thinkin’ ‘bout some beefin’ cuz that’s the air bra | |
| Wolf Gang counter with that pack like an armored truck | |
| Niggas could not stop me, | |
| Dom drops kamikaze | |
| Out loud the chop to the top notch, you got it buddy | |
| Snoop to the | |
| Maserati, well not even knives is lobby | |
| Nigga watch me droppin’ that concert shit that you got it comin’ | |
| Show me that shit you be on, already got it probly | |
| Nigga hella copy on my hustle, don’t you fuckin’ lie to me | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come | |
| Ain’t no loving cuz a thug with multiple drug addicts | |
| Rippin’ nigga automobiles with this automatic | |
| Record label drop me, | |
| I drop the package to my knees | |
| Flip on some catches, chop some ounces, now | |
| I’m even bigger | |
| Stay by the whipper, that gangsta nigga – gangsta shit | |
| Under surveillance, got federal agents at the get | |
| They crackin’ say | |
| I’m movin’ things on airplanes | |
| So spare me with the stress, | |
| I shot my load to some spare change | |
| Them G packs, back in the streets – jack | |
| Back in the spot that keep the smokin’ off their knee caps | |
| Turning with these into regulars could get free shots | |
| I got them duffels, bigger choppers than the police got | |
| And them niggas know it, bigger shit | |
| I’m flowin’ | |
| I know they gon get me one day in the morning | |
| So when I wake up | |
| I praise the | |
| Lord, roll up a blunt and fuck my bitch | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Smokin’ dodo cu some jungle just got smoked over some priests | |
| Play with y’all just like the west, | |
| I’m up for life cuz life’s a bitch | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come | |
| Baby girl tweekin’ on that moon rock | |
| May I just keep it simple like it gon pop? | |
| You let the champagne splash on the girl’s head | |
| It ain’t a party till some champagne glass break | |
| Get in that stupid dough, spittin’ that future flow | |
| Grand poobah bars, the infamous large | |
| This is how | |
| I do it, get this money, live large | |
| My head is not a stairway for me, | |
| I fire arms | |
| Thug out hittin’ super dope with the rap shit | |
| From the saddle to the floor, all kind of charge | |
| Counts of robbery, assaults and battery | |
| I’m just a fellow with a talent for spillin’ | |
| This dog back at me, shit over these great beats | |
| Police, Miami means the all when they got me straight to the pound box | |
| Straight up, out well | |
| Curl a nigga body up then peel off in a hot wheel | |
| I thought | |
| I told you, these niggas never listen | |
| I popped a | |
| Desert eagle off a naked bitch pissin’ | |
| Side of your car, | |
| I’m tryin’ to relax | |
| But you push me to the limit, | |
| I’mma take you to the max | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain’t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin’ that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin’ the same, stackin’ papers till the angels come |
| I let you niggas have your 15 but | |
| I' m runnin' next | |
| Abducted when | |
| I' m questioning something fuck only nothing less | |
| Use to hustle suckers for packs of gushers and tons of sex | |
| And I puff some pounds every month, | |
| I don' t be fuckin' stressin' | |
| No need to up the flexin', got it till it' s nothing left | |
| Showing no contest, just laughing of who | |
| I' m up against | |
| Bunch of frail fucks, bitches with their tails tuck | |
| Hope you ain' t pick any believin' that things will tell us | |
| Hope you ain' t thinkin' ' bout some beefin' cuz that' s the air bra | |
| Wolf Gang counter with that pack like an armored truck | |
| Niggas could not stop me, | |
| Dom drops kamikaze | |
| Out loud the chop to the top notch, you got it buddy | |
| Snoop to the | |
| Maserati, well not even knives is lobby | |
| Nigga watch me droppin' that concert shit that you got it comin' | |
| Show me that shit you be on, already got it probly | |
| Nigga hella copy on my hustle, don' t you fuckin' lie to me | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Ain' t no loving cuz a thug with multiple drug addicts | |
| Rippin' nigga automobiles with this automatic | |
| Record label drop me, | |
| I drop the package to my knees | |
| Flip on some catches, chop some ounces, now | |
| I' m even bigger | |
| Stay by the whipper, that gangsta nigga gangsta shit | |
| Under surveillance, got federal agents at the get | |
| They crackin' say | |
| I' m movin' things on airplanes | |
| So spare me with the stress, | |
| I shot my load to some spare change | |
| Them G packs, back in the streets jack | |
| Back in the spot that keep the smokin' off their knee caps | |
| Turning with these into regulars could get free shots | |
| I got them duffels, bigger choppers than the police got | |
| And them niggas know it, bigger shit | |
| I' m flowin' | |
| I know they gon get me one day in the morning | |
| So when I wake up | |
| I praise the | |
| Lord, roll up a blunt and fuck my bitch | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Smokin' dodo cu some jungle just got smoked over some priests | |
| Play with y' all just like the west, | |
| I' m up for life cuz life' s a bitch | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Baby girl tweekin' on that moon rock | |
| May I just keep it simple like it gon pop? | |
| You let the champagne splash on the girl' s head | |
| It ain' t a party till some champagne glass break | |
| Get in that stupid dough, spittin' that future flow | |
| Grand poobah bars, the infamous large | |
| This is how | |
| I do it, get this money, live large | |
| My head is not a stairway for me, | |
| I fire arms | |
| Thug out hittin' super dope with the rap shit | |
| From the saddle to the floor, all kind of charge | |
| Counts of robbery, assaults and battery | |
| I' m just a fellow with a talent for spillin' | |
| This dog back at me, shit over these great beats | |
| Police, Miami means the all when they got me straight to the pound box | |
| Straight up, out well | |
| Curl a nigga body up then peel off in a hot wheel | |
| I thought | |
| I told you, these niggas never listen | |
| I popped a | |
| Desert eagle off a naked bitch pissin' | |
| Side of your car, | |
| I' m tryin' to relax | |
| But you push me to the limit, | |
| I' mma take you to the max | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come |
| I let you niggas have your 15 but | |
| I' m runnin' next | |
| Abducted when | |
| I' m questioning something fuck only nothing less | |
| Use to hustle suckers for packs of gushers and tons of sex | |
| And I puff some pounds every month, | |
| I don' t be fuckin' stressin' | |
| No need to up the flexin', got it till it' s nothing left | |
| Showing no contest, just laughing of who | |
| I' m up against | |
| Bunch of frail fucks, bitches with their tails tuck | |
| Hope you ain' t pick any believin' that things will tell us | |
| Hope you ain' t thinkin' ' bout some beefin' cuz that' s the air bra | |
| Wolf Gang counter with that pack like an armored truck | |
| Niggas could not stop me, | |
| Dom drops kamikaze | |
| Out loud the chop to the top notch, you got it buddy | |
| Snoop to the | |
| Maserati, well not even knives is lobby | |
| Nigga watch me droppin' that concert shit that you got it comin' | |
| Show me that shit you be on, already got it probly | |
| Nigga hella copy on my hustle, don' t you fuckin' lie to me | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Ain' t no loving cuz a thug with multiple drug addicts | |
| Rippin' nigga automobiles with this automatic | |
| Record label drop me, | |
| I drop the package to my knees | |
| Flip on some catches, chop some ounces, now | |
| I' m even bigger | |
| Stay by the whipper, that gangsta nigga gangsta shit | |
| Under surveillance, got federal agents at the get | |
| They crackin' say | |
| I' m movin' things on airplanes | |
| So spare me with the stress, | |
| I shot my load to some spare change | |
| Them G packs, back in the streets jack | |
| Back in the spot that keep the smokin' off their knee caps | |
| Turning with these into regulars could get free shots | |
| I got them duffels, bigger choppers than the police got | |
| And them niggas know it, bigger shit | |
| I' m flowin' | |
| I know they gon get me one day in the morning | |
| So when I wake up | |
| I praise the | |
| Lord, roll up a blunt and fuck my bitch | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Make that ass get up and whip it, a turkey, bacon and some criss | |
| Smokin' dodo cu some jungle just got smoked over some priests | |
| Play with y' all just like the west, | |
| I' m up for life cuz life' s a bitch | |
| Nasty Gibbs | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Baby girl tweekin' on that moon rock | |
| May I just keep it simple like it gon pop? | |
| You let the champagne splash on the girl' s head | |
| It ain' t a party till some champagne glass break | |
| Get in that stupid dough, spittin' that future flow | |
| Grand poobah bars, the infamous large | |
| This is how | |
| I do it, get this money, live large | |
| My head is not a stairway for me, | |
| I fire arms | |
| Thug out hittin' super dope with the rap shit | |
| From the saddle to the floor, all kind of charge | |
| Counts of robbery, assaults and battery | |
| I' m just a fellow with a talent for spillin' | |
| This dog back at me, shit over these great beats | |
| Police, Miami means the all when they got me straight to the pound box | |
| Straight up, out well | |
| Curl a nigga body up then peel off in a hot wheel | |
| I thought | |
| I told you, these niggas never listen | |
| I popped a | |
| Desert eagle off a naked bitch pissin' | |
| Side of your car, | |
| I' m tryin' to relax | |
| But you push me to the limit, | |
| I' mma take you to the max | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come | |
| Try impressions from our angles to go against of these dangers | |
| To maintain it ain' t no thing to us | |
| You niggas claimin' that famous stuff | |
| We just stayin' the same, stackin' papers till the angels come |
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