2 Raw For The Streets, Indy 500, Freeway, Peedi Crakk - PEEDI CRAKK, FREEWAY, INDY 500 Freestyle lyrics

Off the top of the dick
I'm like plastic on top of the bricks
Or like platinum on top of a six
Catch me on tape or on top of your bitch
I might be on top of your strip
Or in the club with a Glock and some crys'
CÎROC with a glist'
Thugs see me pop and they flip
Nah'mean, my whole team like the
Cream of the crop
Nah'mean, I got a beam that
Lead up to the dot scheme with a plot
The bubbling heat up and you drop
You gon' know that it's trouble when
Peed' up in your spot
My name Crakk on bottom then
I muzzle your rock guzzle the Vok'
We huddled and I cuddled the block
Rock it to sleep
Yeah I ain't seen you cop in a week
So them broke niggas shouldn't
Have nothing to say when I approach
Niggas ain't got nothing to say
What you wrote? Nigga
You ain't got nothing to say
C-R-akk, got the MAC and the yayo
I like to play slow or
Side like a slither ring
Get mayo and ride with my killer team
Poppy got a pie
Better hide it 'fore I see it you know
I need the Lexus, cable where the rest is
Crakk and 5 in Barbatos on our way to Texas
With one question "Where the dough at?"
Run up in your session like
"Nigga lemme blow that
And where the hoes at? I need my dick sucked"
Down south bitch suck dick
Like it's good luck
But she a dead fuck, and I'm from north brick
Y'all on some bullshit and I
Done did everything from
Slanging the rock to (uh) banging the Glock
Ducking the cops who want it stuck at the top
C-R-A, C double the-K
Bring it where you lay, brilliant and bay
Many mash shit up, pit pat shit up
Shows over, rap it up
Goes over, get that platinum up
Dude come up out it
Ever since a youth and I'm still about it
F you's how I feel about it
Vest be proof, firearm be known
Smoke aqua-green and smoke out your team
Coke rock the beam and Nick rock the blocks
I first thank the fiend then
Blink out the drop 600 I sell
Captain see me and Big Demy got
A thing with the treble
IC nigga, what it's gon' be nigga?

Killer Crakk-O, Freeway it's that simple
I put the street on beats
I put the heat on chumps
My connect with Roc? Put the
Pressure on freaks to hump
And they do get fucked
Put the pressure on my niggas
And we shoot shit up
I'm out the park like Babe Ruth
Cop a beige Coupe
Brown guts beez on the wheels so
I fuck the town up leave niggas like "Man
Did you see that shit?"
When I spit they like, "Fam
Did you hear that bull?"
Y'all haters must realise that
You don't need war
C4 to your door like I'm related to BIG
Hold Glocks
Rush spots and I'm relaying the kids
Gotta run up in your shop
Put the 8 to your wig
Take everything out your safe
Count the cakes tie your ass up and calmly
Walk out your place
Niggas smile in my face but
I don't dial they hate
Mad 'cause the V12, hit the I95
Nigga balling like I got nine lives
Or I don't give a fuck about the whip I drive
Or the cops on my ass and I got nine pies
When I'm really moving pies I'm
In and out of lanes
In a Buick or a Bonneville
Shifting ain't a thing
Put yourself behind the wall
What difference do it bring?
When you know the keys in trunk, Os
Zs in chunk
Know the cops in rear, hold Glock for fear
They hit the gas, my flow complicated
Might, spit too fast or spit too slow
At the show
Spit these bars and grip your hoe
At the lot, step shit up and switch the fo'
Yo, my flow a cocaine and a verse a O
Now who you know iller than Free?
Copped white V, a cinnamon V
If you shiesty, hide low, send em in threes
I stomp a nigga with Cinnamon trees
So the blood don't show
Testify against Free? Show your mug
Little bruh or grow
My peeps see you on the streets
A lot of blood gon' show
So die with that money since
You love that dough
And die with that hooker since
You love that bitch

Twisted metal
Throw a lot of lead in the ghetto
And I separate the burrows 'cause
We ain't that thorough fuck your feelings
Fuck you and fuck the children
And if I catch you in that
Drop imma ruin your ceiling
It's Crakk and 5 - No doubt
How we ride? - In and out
And when I hear my name come out your mouth
It's all out
Do your top for your watch, Cody
You don't know me squeeze with mad aim
Blow your brains on your homie
So don't ask, it's Crakk to the dash
K-to the-O, I throw the MAC in your ass
I take cash 'cause it's basic math
Subtract yours equal mines
There's no need to add
Fuck be wrong with y'all like I ain't Crakk?
Like, I ain't five seconds off your neck?
Like, I won't give it to you live and direct
Wipe my ass with your sixteen bars and flex
Something raw from the dirtiest
Side of the yard and I ride with the boy
That'll bottle your balls
So how the fuck y'all like me now?
And that be me that clapped them down
And the black M3 is double the K
Ain't nothing changed but the day
I still gain your dame off the plane, Jose
Hey holla at me
Throw a million dollars at me
See I don't fuck with the small changes
You fuckin' with the wrong gangsta
The lone ranger who possesses strong anger
Then touch you with the chrome, bang ya
Twisted metal
Throw a lot of lead in the ghetto
And I separate the burrows 'cause
We ain't that thorough fuck your feelings
Fuck you and fuck the children
And if I catch you in that
Drop imma ruin your ceiling
It's Crakk and 5 - No doubt
How we ride? - In and out
And when I hear my name come out your mouth
It's all out that's it iC nigga, that's it
Freeway, Indy 500, Crakk-O that's it