BLP Kosher - Quite Frankly (feat. Luh Tyler, Trapland Pat) lyrics
BLP Kosher [Benjamin Landy-Pavlon] Florida, U.S. 🇺🇸
Luh Tyler [Tyler Meeks] Tallahassee, Florida, U.S. 🇺🇸
[BLP Kosher - Quite Frankly feat. Luh Tyler, Trapland Pat lyrics]
Xair lemme get that motherfucker
Yeah
Dududuh
We cuttin' through the Bronx
Home runnin', think we with the Yankees
Raw paper, championship ring
I got it on my pinky
If you don't see Luh Tyler, and that Kosher
Nigga quite frankly
Trap went and ran them racks up
He just went dressin' janky
I'm in the booth, me and trap on that gas
Man this shit stanky
Got your bitch in here, and she throwin' ass
She keep sayin' "Spank me''
See, these niggas they ain't
Tryna get no bag
Don't know what they thinkin'
Nigga, I ain't tryna make no friendships
'cause they get to sinkin'
Hoppin' out on feet, passion pit
I take a walk machine gun stays by my side
Like I'm Megan Fox
Them boys playing air guitar, bitch
I really rock spody and Luh Jojo in the
Cut that's a butchers block
I'm with Luh Tyler, no creator
Odd future turnin' bright
Under my shirt that shinin' armor
Only hittin' licks at night
That's a dog fight
I'm breakin' that shit up like Dana White
Jews name was Mike Cook
He let me cook and pass the mic
Jitter bug, jitterin, I ain't buggin'
They some lice long nights up in that Yoda
Had to make a sacrifice
They disrespected 'til they saw I blew up
Now they acting right
We be shining bright, the opps mad
Flexin' moissanite
My side bitch from Brooklyn
Pull up from that 3
Hit the net another bookin'
Niggas mad hattin'
Quit cappin' before we hook him
Don't understand why they hating on my
Chances when I took them
All my hoes on my roster so
Bad but I don't want them
Yeah, all my niggas doin' good
But all my bitches bad
Man, I swear these hoes be for the
Team and they be getting passed
See you ran up a lil' cash
But that ain't finna last
I be stayin' in my lane
I ain't nothin' like you niggas
Man, my nigga, he insane
Got a button on his pistol
I hit that nigga bitch like it's nothing
Bet he miss her I just jumped up on the mic
Then I took off like a missile
I'm a big dawg to you niggas
Bet they call me Mister
Can't get your bitch off me
She sees these diamonds and these crystals
I'ma snap any time you put
Me on the instrumental
Look at my neck, that bitch on froze
It get cold like December
Believe what you see, not what you heard
'cause it ain't in vain
25 thousand grams of swappery
I zoed the strain
My Cali' bih tryna go skiing
'cause Luh Tyler chain
25 ain't gon make the cut
For that Johnny Dang
I can show you how to make the
Ends meet if it ain't circulation
You gon' have to really lock in
Using concentration
If a nigga say he run Deerfield
Thats exaggeration
Ski done beat that hat bout that Z
He ain't even Haitian
Pat told me stay from 'round the trick
He ain't Odell
Cash rules everything around me
Like the Carvel amy Whinehouse
I'm sippin' cherry in the motel
Sir smoke a lot of opps, half baked
Dave Chapelle
Speedin' to that cheese in Saint Pete
But, I'm not Russian woop dewoo
Slid the palm tree with a bakers dozen
He was stretchin' shit before the
Fame like he Danny Duncan
Catch him out back and I'ma fry him
That's a blooming onion