Freestyle Canal

Yeah, came through steppin' with the queso drippin'
Since back then, shit, I ain't no different
No sunshine, I'm finna paint no bitchin'
Nigga, I'm back here to stay, so listen
Raise your fist if you're down with the Hop
I ain't gon' miss, bitch I'm wild with the shot
Now a halo sits as a crown on your top
Don't make no sense how I'm stylin', I'm hot

Don't ask me when the fuck I'm droppin' that new
Never know when I'ma hop in that booth
Still I'm coppin' that loot
But lyrically aimin' choppers at you
Ain't no tellin' who 'bout to get it when I cock it back, boom!
That's blood on the wall like a Halloween scene
Who the fuck did it? They know it was probably me
Yeah, Papa need three new thotties, street freaks
Gotta put on a rubber before I hop in these cheeks

These hoes tryna get a free ride
Gotta be wise from the west coast to the east side
If she slide then she might be plottin'
On your fuckin' demise for having your B-A-B-Y
You'll watch your bank account swerve
Now your pockets drained and malnourished
You send texts with rage and foul words
Shit just ain't too safe around her

That's why I stay real low-key (low-key)
Melatonin and the strap make you go to sleep
It'll leave niggas tap dancin' with both feet
I am not takin' my chance out in no streets (run town)
I ain't never had me a pair of no gold teeth
I ain't tryna be a target for a slow creep
In the parking lot of Target, screamin', "No, please!"
Now you're in a real tough pickle, Rick, oh jeez

Ah, nigga these killers gon' do what they supposed to do
Now you got no jump, I'll finally poster you
Doctors ain't able to stitch up your open wounds
Everybody fakin' like they was close with you
Dyin' for nothin', got you on the billboard (yeah)
Well, I guess that was something to live for (whoa)
When the Devil pull up with his pitchfork
You better hope you ain't stuck in his shit storm (ooh)

I'm live and a damn the city sinner (yeah)
Hoes know me as H man the titty licker (yeah)
I'm ill, your lame ass a pity nigga
Really no need to debate that, you kitty litter
A penny pick up, a Henny sipper
I'll be brutally beatin' on my opponent until he give up (yeah)
Bitch I'ma fuckin' gator, you merely your mini picture
Niggas, know that you see prodigies golden
It really is us



Credits
Writer(s): Marcus Jamal Hopson
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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