lirik lagu one mic freestyle – teks sinatra
[intro]
yeah
[?]
uh, [?]
kaiabeats
listen
listen
[verse]
i ain’t really got the voice unless i’m rappin’ ‘nem
but i just got me an account, i guess i’m managin’
my k!lly 5’6 and skinny, you could batter him
but he got faith in his bl!cky, he ain’t panickin’
i never sign off on no gossip, on no twitter beefs
i’m at your door with no on the house delivery
she fluff my pillows when i’m ill, my throat tickly
and that’s the only way she’s ever gettin’ sick of me
i seen blood do me dirty, i still love him tho’
i ain’t seen my niece and dad, i need a touch and go
i used to watch my money leave and i would suffer slow
i know my women aren’t the only thing that come and go
i nеver stress nor panic when hе tap my phone
i knew noodles were the only things that’s at my home
where i’m from, don’t drive rentals ‘less you know the broads
god forbid he turn your rolls into a holy ghost
please don’t be fooled by no love songs, see me with some gloves on
that’s something you should run from, trust me
not a pretty n*gga, but my girl looks lovely
it’s ugly, i was hittin’ l!cks by my mumsy’s
guy from the mud so don’t judge me
thinkin’ i’m a boss*man, sell it for a monkey
and if he don’t trust it then we slap it up on gumtree
and hope that the buyer comes buzzin’ off of skunk weed
need me a thousand different hustles, i ain’t rusty
i can’t say i love it though, i know it don’t love me
i know how far i’m tryna take it if they bump me
and have a full body like he slappin’ on a onesie
never been the type of lil n*gga you can style on
even with no weapon i was somethin’ i can count on
n*gga had his mask up, he was aimin’ it for how long?
machine stopped workin’, bro, you should’ve used cow dung, sh*t
see in my eyes, i ain’t there all the time
and i don’t really think my mind’s clear all the time
and she want a n*gga that’ll ride full throttle, but i’m weird so it’s hard for me to care all the time
and i don’t know what to call it
if it’s an illness livin’ in the sticks, i think most of us caught it
some my n*ggas wanna get their heads sorted, but we in the hood, how the f*ck can we afford it?
yo, we wanna smile in them pictures but we force it
if i just had some real issues then it’s awkward
lovin’ what it seems is distorted
before they’ll ride for your death they’ll record it
i don’t like how i’m looked at lately, i know that banger broad day really shook that lady
i know she listens to my music so she talk that crazy
but sorry to dissapoint, i’m a hoodrat, baby
can’t argue with some n*ggas, it’s a complex thought
i’m tryna cop a magazine, f*ck a complex talk
‘member how we used to see them and they’d sweat
it’s funny now, i see ’em drillin’ on the net
i guess it’s easy when you steppin’ in a booth
no facts, just vibes, and the henny with the juice
see my name, i hope you tellin’ ’em the truth
[?] boy, i get you peppered in your stu’
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