Freddie Gibbs & Madlib – “Bomb” (ft. Raekwon)

Freddie Gibbs & Madlib - Bomb (ft. Raekwon) (prod. Madlib) (Audio, Lyrics)

Throwback to the “BOMB” collaboration by Freddie Gibbs & Madlib featuring Raekwon, produced by Madlib. Listen, stream, buy, read the lyrics, mp3 download the song.

Freddie Gibbs & Madlib Bomb
Freddie Gibbs & Madlib Bomb

When enough time has passed to reflect on the past ten years in hip-hop with an analytical and objective lens, it will be truly difficult not to name Freddie Gibbs as one of the best rappers of the 2010s. With a discography lined with acclaimed albums, both solo and collaborative, few can rival Gibbs’ deep and compelling catalog. Evidently, one of his most revered bodies of work happens to turn seven today, as the Madlib-produced Piñata turns the page on another year.

Widely hailed as a modern classic (though modern is becoming increasingly inaccurate), Gibbs’ Piñata proved that mafioso rap would forever remain a beloved subgenre. As such, it feels appropriate that he enlisted one of the greatest lyricists to ever do it, master of criminology Raekwon, on “Bomb.” Feature two verses from Gibbs and one from The Chef, the track finds both parties spitting vivid street bars as equals. “The evasive black American gangster, sinister corner hugger,” spits Gibbs, in a highlight stanza. “Cuz seeing this ni*ga shine been annoying me like a muthafucka / This busta owe me, now he act like he don’t know me / Forty fo’ my closest homie, kill cockroaches like Tony.”

Freddie Gibbs & Madlib – Bomb (ft. Raekwon) (prod. Madlib)



[Produced by Madlib]

Yeah, yeah, yeah, uhh

[Verse 1: Freddie Gibbs]
Slammin’, drugs got me wakin’ up in cold sweats
Sometimes I’m slightly off my rocker, but I’m on deck
Got 2 and a baby off my bitches student loan check
She hit my line to get that girl, I call it phone sex
Robbing like my problems ain’t gon catch up to me later
Bitch I’m mobbing like OG Bobby Johnson, split your potato
At the table cooking, shaving and touching base with them basers
Bet they try to make a play for the yayo as soon as they taste it
The evasive black American gangster, sinister corner hugger
Cuz seeing this nigga shine been annoying me like a muthafucka
This busta owe me, now he act like he don’t know me
Forty fo’ my closest homie, kill cockaroaches like Tony
Got Montana money, Newport 100 dipped in fluid
Yo I had to smoke it, pupils dilated like silver dollars
Now we loc’ing, call it devilish how I do bitch
Fuck these niggas talking, I leave they thoughts on my shoestrings

[Interlude: Freddie Gibbs]
What? Uh, yeah
For sure

[Verse 2: Freddie Gibbs]
Rolling, pockets all swollen
Set the record straight, that FNH is what I’m holding
A busta that we know got 15 ‘bows, bust it open
We came bandana’d up, divide it up, now what’s the quotient?
A split with 4 niggas, since I’m a go getter
I think these suckers pussy, I’ma merk the whole litter
Told my girl to leave as soon as I hung up the phone with her
Man, I heard you rob the robbers, look Freddie a cold nigga
Got an ice maker for a heart, made nigga from the start
Life is like a movie, all I did was play my fuckin’ part
Cheffing up the crack, the heroin, and weed a la carte
I call it Fast Freddie’s, I should own a fuckin’ restaurant
‘Cause back when I was 12, threw some bales on a scale and I got a pager
We broke them down and started selling nickels to the neighbors
Eventually the penitentiary gon’ see me later
Kiss my momma, told her if I die, then it was part of nature

[Verse 3: Raekwon]
28 days later we all getting fresh
Got the heart to die for something, flesh to flesh
The Lambo, got her outside, it’s a stretch
My bitch half Mexican/Afghan, I’m blessed
From living tough times with rough lemons
A gorgeous watch, my team on a dreadful level, yo
Yeah, we still getting money right
Long as the sun come out, I’ll hold these twenties tight
Getting fresh, just cooling, my bitch on my dick
Ba-boom yo, you live with your moms, just get a grip
Clip in my pocket, my rocket
I think of the Dips, I need Juelz and Jims, with rough licks
Trips to Africa, shorty tear Saks up
I’m out in Bombay, rebels here actin’ up
We real, all G, 75-hundred of us
Up in the Sprinter bus, fussin’ “We need more heat”


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