Shots Freestyle
This shit is very cerebral
Shout out to all the rappers, shout out to all my people
High jump, arching high just like a motherfucking steeple
Bullets jumping in your brain just like them motherfucking sheep do
He was talking shit, mask on made his sister s'c'ream
Nose stuffy, cold weather might need antihistamine
Bed wetter Beretta well you already know the scene
Ehh, I thought about making a bar about COVID-19
But I ain't buggin', I ain't come into this booth for nothin
Bitches running, I'm steady grinning and y'all think that it's funny
Till I get a bad bitch, or your's hopping up and down on this dick
Just like a motherfucking bunny
I'm the coldest in my city and baby you knew it was meant to be
This ain't no devotion, I write every bar sinfully
The talent I have is immaculate and it's clear to see
Bars got you shaking and dizzy like you just drunk some Hennessy
Ahh yeah, that was corny, but here's the ten you finna see
2 to your head, 3 to your side, 5 in the back, and that's murder in about 10 degrees
Chopper bullets went straight through his tender meat
I hate talking about guns, but baby I ain't in the streets
I never take defeat, baby I never back down
Steph from long range, met your girl, she was from downtown
Pussy stank, smell like fish, you could say Nemo was found
I hate you, I'm not no clown, and you can't get around
Too official, shots blowing out that motherfucking pistol
Baby girl be talking shit like shawty what's the issue
You just mad cause I wasn't fucking with you
And you was poppin pussy and I never wanted to get with you
I think it's about time that I show my lyrical excellence
Pessimistic depression, but I guess I can say that I'm right next to it
Throwing left and right hooks on these tracks, but I ain't got enough necks to hit
Hold on
Missing the years back to when nothing was a problem
Like a math class, now I got too many problems to solve 'em
Back in the old days, when I use to be a scholar
But nowadays, kids my age goal is to have a baby momma
Baby drama, back to next but I ain't talking bout a llama
Wanna rock a presidential, I ain't talking bout Obama
Dropping bombs with these hits, I ain't talking bout Osama
Good things that happen in my life, nada
But that is about fucking all
Got three rings, two teams, that's Patrick McCaw
Need justice for Breonna Taylor, it's fuck the law
Money short right now, but it's soon to be tall, gang
Shout out to all the rappers, shout out to all my people
High jump, arching high just like a motherfucking steeple
Bullets jumping in your brain just like them motherfucking sheep do
He was talking shit, mask on made his sister s'c'ream
Nose stuffy, cold weather might need antihistamine
Bed wetter Beretta well you already know the scene
Ehh, I thought about making a bar about COVID-19
But I ain't buggin', I ain't come into this booth for nothin
Bitches running, I'm steady grinning and y'all think that it's funny
Till I get a bad bitch, or your's hopping up and down on this dick
Just like a motherfucking bunny
I'm the coldest in my city and baby you knew it was meant to be
This ain't no devotion, I write every bar sinfully
The talent I have is immaculate and it's clear to see
Bars got you shaking and dizzy like you just drunk some Hennessy
Ahh yeah, that was corny, but here's the ten you finna see
2 to your head, 3 to your side, 5 in the back, and that's murder in about 10 degrees
Chopper bullets went straight through his tender meat
I hate talking about guns, but baby I ain't in the streets
I never take defeat, baby I never back down
Steph from long range, met your girl, she was from downtown
Pussy stank, smell like fish, you could say Nemo was found
I hate you, I'm not no clown, and you can't get around
Too official, shots blowing out that motherfucking pistol
Baby girl be talking shit like shawty what's the issue
You just mad cause I wasn't fucking with you
And you was poppin pussy and I never wanted to get with you
I think it's about time that I show my lyrical excellence
Pessimistic depression, but I guess I can say that I'm right next to it
Throwing left and right hooks on these tracks, but I ain't got enough necks to hit
Hold on
Missing the years back to when nothing was a problem
Like a math class, now I got too many problems to solve 'em
Back in the old days, when I use to be a scholar
But nowadays, kids my age goal is to have a baby momma
Baby drama, back to next but I ain't talking bout a llama
Wanna rock a presidential, I ain't talking bout Obama
Dropping bombs with these hits, I ain't talking bout Osama
Good things that happen in my life, nada
But that is about fucking all
Got three rings, two teams, that's Patrick McCaw
Need justice for Breonna Taylor, it's fuck the law
Money short right now, but it's soon to be tall, gang
Credits
Writer(s): Christopher Cooper
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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