“beamer benz or bentley (freestyle)”
calvin go get my notebooks, put em in the he*rs* for me
yo bout to murder dis sh*t n*gg* look
beamer benz or bentley, my jeans ain’t ever empty
and n*gg* i ain’t gucci but no skier ever get me
the 7 series beamer ain’t the reason they respect me
i ain’t never been a p*ssy cause my team will never let me
the modern day hanibal, flock fresh animal i’m sick i’m sick and i ain’t got a antidote, skeetin in yo gurls mouth and her throat, i’ll grill ya’ll peel like cantilope
oh and it’s so sinsurr, two european broads and they both in hurr, me and ryhmes took turns we was both in thurr and my girl is like a fox but she don’t wear fur. ho’s used to say no now they like oh yeah sure, they don’t even call me lanez they like oh yes sir, i’m a go getter, never go get her, from her crib what i look like dat ho chaffuer. gettin h*lla dome, put lady gaga on my telephone, h*lla gone ay yo girl beat no metronome, my new b*tch she a yellow bone, i buy her yellow stones cause i like it when she got that yellow onnn.
now tell me where the flag beat at, if i had one wish i’d bring mack’s beat back, bought to buy a lamb tell me where da back seat at. please free gucci, boozy and weezy we black.
so you could say that tory lanez is a born star but you couldn’t find my roof with an on-star. never slip n*gg* i be on guard, sicker than a swine no time for your corn bars. eight long bags, stay calm f*g, i’m a more beast then the j arm tag, colder than another shuttle tell me where the quilt at, tory is a mothaf*cker tell me where the milf at. i can get you killed back, like the way i kill tracks, we gon leave you with yo scout and it’s all peeled back. only n*gg* dat be hangin like a pendant, rip the beat so hard n*gg*s had to mend it. f*ck it let’s cement it. cause i killed it i’m feeling some resentment… f*ck i just killed that sh*t… so i’m a come back and avenge it. reincarnation of the track on some revenge sh*t. step inside da club all da guns and da frenzy. i be writin till my pen break cause i’m hungry, i’m to da point that my ribs ache. i just wanna see yo hips shake. my latin shawty call me poppa while she fix me up a big steak. see i’m hungry for a big plate and i’m never full even though i just ate. call me the four model f*cka, get they twist on like a soda bottle cover, tired of breakin it to n*gg*s dat i got they lover, hold her and i fold her like some sort of oragami sculpture. read between the lines, see between her eyes. killin dat p*ssy r.i.p between yo thighs. i seem to be dispised by some very evil guys. fake n*gg*s do fake sh*t so don’t belive the lies.