1 MINUTE FREESTYLE
Off an X
Fighting my demons, like I'm Ken Carson
He don't make a difference for his team
Be on the bench startin'
Call of Duty is the only place you got ranked
Need to go equip a belt, your bro 'n' 'em just got spanked
This shit hittin' crazy, you would think the Za' tranked
Middle man checks me on the 'gram, like "Who got banks?"
The gang stuck together, we ain't Pangea
Bitch ain't got a dollar, unless she go use her man's Visa
Right before interrogation, tell 'em I got amnesia
How I run it up, you think I'm half man and half cheetah
I might ra- never mind that might get me canceled
He ain't got no standards, hittin' everything like Mickey Mantle
Swipe, scam, jugg, back in school, it was the giffy scandals
Forty-nine and arm, on my way to winnin' fifty battles
Ts, I'm finna tie Floyd
All that tryna cuddle, bitch, I'm tryna touch your thyroid
They in Santa Monica, we vibin' at the Viceroy
Kick say Rick, but I ain't snitchin' like the white boy
I don't trust him though, he got a big mouth like Billy Bass
Blow it in the deep, and I'm floatin' like a lily pad
Run it up alone, before I ever get a piggy bank
Grade-A fibber, can you rap 'bout what you really have?
If I'm masked up, it's doomsday, MF Doom
Go crazy, red face, you think I went to FSU
We can see who ball harder than me, need a Bal Harbour
All them foolies and he still died, he should've bought armor
Speak into existence, shit I'm finna work with Shawn Carter
Fighting my demons, like I'm Ken Carson
He don't make a difference for his team
Be on the bench startin'
Call of Duty is the only place you got ranked
Need to go equip a belt, your bro 'n' 'em just got spanked
This shit hittin' crazy, you would think the Za' tranked
Middle man checks me on the 'gram, like "Who got banks?"
The gang stuck together, we ain't Pangea
Bitch ain't got a dollar, unless she go use her man's Visa
Right before interrogation, tell 'em I got amnesia
How I run it up, you think I'm half man and half cheetah
I might ra- never mind that might get me canceled
He ain't got no standards, hittin' everything like Mickey Mantle
Swipe, scam, jugg, back in school, it was the giffy scandals
Forty-nine and arm, on my way to winnin' fifty battles
Ts, I'm finna tie Floyd
All that tryna cuddle, bitch, I'm tryna touch your thyroid
They in Santa Monica, we vibin' at the Viceroy
Kick say Rick, but I ain't snitchin' like the white boy
I don't trust him though, he got a big mouth like Billy Bass
Blow it in the deep, and I'm floatin' like a lily pad
Run it up alone, before I ever get a piggy bank
Grade-A fibber, can you rap 'bout what you really have?
If I'm masked up, it's doomsday, MF Doom
Go crazy, red face, you think I went to FSU
We can see who ball harder than me, need a Bal Harbour
All them foolies and he still died, he should've bought armor
Speak into existence, shit I'm finna work with Shawn Carter
Credits
Writer(s): James Edward Johnson Ii
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.