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solid 16s (freestyle) - cloude lyrics

[intro]
i’m gettin’ private calls, uh*huh
and they probably was from jail, i can’t ignore it all
(you got this, [?])
i do the dash every time from the boredom (it’s up)
(cloude, why the f*ck you saucin’?)

[verse]
i’m gettin’ private calls from jail, i can’t ignore them (‘nore them)
i’m rockin’ prada for the times i couldn’t afford it (‘ford it)
i’m countin’ cash, made a habit out of boredom (woo)
i do the dash every time from the boredom (boredom)
’cause i’m ridin’ ’round with crack, lamar odom
it’s a likely chance the vehicle is stolen
i come from a poor end, dreams of a foreign
i was down, now i’m countin’ rubber [?]
paranoid the feds is comin’, thеy might get me
i’ve been on thе streets, from runnin’ can’t take a sick leave
all these hoes askin’ for money, i’m like, “b*tch, please”
six thousand for the pendant, that’s light for a neck piece
youngin’s gon’ slide on this ice, wayne gretzky
make froze the time on this rollie, my n*gga might freeze
still run that n*gga down in my nikes (woah)
flame city block boy, think i need an encore
i was cookin’ boys in the pyrex when i got poor
i don’t really care about no shawty ’cause i got wh0res
this time when they tried to kick the door, it was vacant
they’ve been tryna take us out by force, elimination (ah)
i come from the dirty north where n*ggas leave you brain*dead
where they tell you, “stay safe,” but we stay dangerous
i was sleepin’ on the cold hard floor like caveman
we was gettin’ money by any means you can name and
they think that i’m innocent, but, baby, i’m the devil’s kid
walk around with h*lla sticks, these other n*ggas celibate
they know they can’t f*ck with me
you told me you would always hold it down, why’d you up and leave?
i would never ever let you down if it was up to me
i feed all my n*ggas that’s around, there’s enough to eat
i was always in and out of town, livin’ comfortably
my broski and my cousin shootin’ rounds when it comes to me
i ain’t been the same for a minute, i’ve been in these streets
it can never go back to the way that it used to be
i should hate the game and the streets for what they did to me
talkin’ on my name, i’ma k!ll him in the first degree
it’s a cold world just like the polar
i’m never sober, i hate bein’ sober
my life spiralled just like a coaster
i won’t hold her, i rather just ghost her
i’m in my goose fur, i feel like lucifer
life’s a b*tch, and i know i won’t lose to her
i don’t complain about the pain ’cause i’m used to hurt
i’m a gardener in the streets ’cause i’m doin’ dirt
i’m f*ckin’ b*tches in the trap on the futon (futon)
every time i leave the city, gone for too long (too long)
bob the builder in the streets, i keep a tool long, tool long
yah, yah (yah)
i keep a tool long (yah, yah, yah)

- cloude lyrics

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