Belly - Belly Freestyle (LA Leakers Freestyle #110) lyrics

Filastin in my bloodstream
I got Jenin in my genes look

Even before I had a dollar to my
Name I wasn’t a poor man
Left the house 16, pops said I had no chance
Now I’m drawing floor plans
Purchasing more land
Retired dopeman that couldn't be programmed
They romanticize the struggle I’m
Puzzled like ‘no ma’am’
The hustle almost killed me and
Most of my close fam
I got 357s, and a 357 that won’t
Jam, I still whoop that ass, i throw hands
Used to think you was the man, it’s all lies
This industry is all swine
Felt like I was hogtied
Potato on the barrel for a small fry
Black diamonds in the watch to remind
Me of the dark times
No shine I was hiding in my dark mind
Ready to die, I shed tears every March nine
Uh, this feeling powerful I can’t express
Ghosts from my past that
I still can’t address
Rolls-Royce Ghost private jets
That I manifest
Love seeing my Arab name on that manifest
I did some shit that I’m ashamed
Of but I can’t regret
I been high since nine-nine and
I ain’t landed yet
Hard life, G’s move quietly
The K got the silencer on it, dark night
It’s on sight i lost the world kept my
Life that’s a small price derrick Rose flow
God told me I could ball twice
Started indie got major results
No luck no horseshoes
Still we ball like the Colts
The culture turned to a cult
Vultures opened the vault
Don’t compare me to other rappers
That’s a fucking insult
Van Nuys where I land fly
Shanghai collar I ain’t popping
‘cause I’m anti-
Mankind mama, bystander you should stand by
Fake gang ties, you ain’t even from the
Same side, watch the gang slide, uh
Sorry mama I was serving off the landline
Stepped on work and still it
Blew up like a landmine
Came from the dirt, survived the landslide
Sipping ‘42 in the vert
Feel like the franchise
Uh, tell ‘em roll up the windows
We could smell the murder in the
Air when the wind blows
I got ten toes in the mud like a Flintstone
We sold packs back when
Soulja Boy sold ringtones
Cold hearts, fire and brimstone
Whole blocks suffering from
Stockholm Syndrome people I’ve outgrown
Cut ‘em out like a ingrown
Tried to kick the gun and
Got shot in the shinbone
Imagine tryna build a kingdom
In the land of the free where you
Could die for ya’ skin tone
Fresh off the boat if they could
They’d make us swim home
In the field and we ain’t get
To see the end zone
Huh, I laugh to hold back tears
‘Cause, I got a reason to live
Now I hold that dear
But please, don’t call it my comeback year
I’m just tryna make enough to
Never come back here yeah