J.R. Writer - 9 Minute Freestyle lyrics
[J.R. Writer - 9 Minute Freestyle lyrics]
Supporting a cut for cost
I'm lost in another source
Come talk to a underboss
No matter if I sell l, still be in jail, hell
Cause even my Pel Pel snorkel is butter-soft
It's the dude with the eight oh
Make you chew the potato
I'm just the ruthless of ruthless - your
Best move is to lay low
Jesus head on chill, ill blueberry halo
I'm back to the raw, creep
My back to the wall, peep
The hard show of condos
Relax down in Wall Street
Still bagging for sure, cheap
Plus, walk around with a bag of dust
Like I've been vacuuming all week
See, I smile - wild, I'm fly, child
Shop til I drop, ock, they loving my style
No less than five thou'
So you better be talking the hair over your
Eyes if you ever say that I browse
We maneuver, yes - do it wet through the West
Stretch no less than a stupid x
I lay the truth is left, uptown to dust down
My man Buddha Bless got it
Like the buddha fest
But also trust me, they all so dusty
I been eating well - got a little gordo husky
But the broads all love me
And keep a Barbie that'll make you swear you
Ain't seen a meaner doll since Chucky
Regardless the artist
There's no one as hard as R
Try starving, but pardon R, you
Can't harbin a monster, pa
R is too far from y'all in other words
The cat with the squirrel is
Out of this world
A Martian with bars from Mars
I'll target your entourage
Larkins will part your mob
Gotta get exotic whips - you ordering R&R
I floss up in foreign cars
Drop six Beretta rim
Topless way before them little white
Girls in Mardi Gras
Hardy har - hater, I laugh, wave around cash
This paper is major
Player I save some in stash
They stay on my, grain in the dash
Gators I flash fresh
Yes - my fitteds come cased up in glass
Dag, I been better biz cheddar
The cash, you gasser
She'll be down south faster than M betha
The limb stretcher, aka chin checker
Man, this rap is just too real for Vendetta
Heifer, who is this hard?
You is retard thinking you could
Move with the God i found a boo
I menage she picked her boobs and her bra
A student
She Cuban - her father into Cuban cigars
And ma always down, holler brown 'pala SS
Fresh-dressed - chrome wheels
Chrome grills sounds proper
The town mobster who gave
All the town toppers
Club, tour bus, down to the Crown Plaza
Yes, this the freak sex for a week
Sex til I peak, skeet skeet
Mess up the sheets
Neck to her cheek or next to her cheeks
Yes, this is another executive
At the executive suite
And g'ing them was nothing
Keep up with your buzzing
Remember night times and had to
Re-up with my cousin broke day - shit
We had to be up and be shuffling
Couple pies, kinda like the pizza in the oven
The streets were just corruption
Measly and disgusting
Triple goose, hit the stoop
Heated my construction
Ki's that I was hustling - one for ten
Two for twenty steve Martin
I could get em cheaper by the dozen
Pushed for my own bread
Took it from known dreads
On the hot block, ock
I'll push ya with chrome lead
Cats who fronted got wooden or chrome legs
And just pistol-whipped and now
Look like the Coneheads
Listen, doggie, chill - I'm a boss for real
I want the house in the villa
Ill on the hill so I'mma dog my deal
Give it the scorch you feel
And be on billboards til a
Cat bored with bills
Try hurting me, you'll wind up in infirmary
Nursery, burgandy, certainly emergency
Punch to the face if it's a damn smirk I see
Hey pal, sit in a ditch, trip where you trip
Squeeze the five - need a
Ride? Give you a lift
Chickens just flip when they see
The gliss in the wrist
Don't talk back, but they keep giving me lip
I'm sick, which be effing with me
The G fronting I see, I leave stuck in a tree
Please, I will have you ski cuffed to a V
And drive your stupid ass across the GWB, see
Yes, dude sane Tec do aim bloaw bloaw
Get you slain - guess who's blamed?
Me - I'm the bad guy who
Fly in that stretch new Range
With TV's like a Jet Blue plane, mayne
Yeah, you're man's bragging
No more damn cabbing
They didn't stop for me when
They saw my hands flagging
Now you tan bagging cause your pants sagging?
You ain't a boss - you
Dorks sit on the bandwagon
And that's just half the matter
Who sicker, badder? Ask about me - I wave
Around the biggest dagger
Ask about yourself - you're
The biggest slacker
Stop admiring mines and go get a swagger
You doziered me - I'm someone
No one could see you're broke as a joke
My rose-gold get freeze, the lowest degree
Darn, so much boogers on my arm
You would swear I wipe my nose with my sleeve
So the birds roam word, homes
They want my cell, hell
Pager, e mail, then my work phone
Damn a chirp tone, cause straight up
The Jacob got it looking like I copped
A wrist full of birth stones
Those are rocks for real - I cop on chill
I cop on hill, rag top DeVille
I got a deal, so I ain't gotta deal
But, I'mma still take out ten
And go cop some krills
And have my cousin stretch
He gonna double, yes bring out the hoopdie
Put away that bubble Lex
Any sucker step, I'mma just rush his neck
With two toys, rude boy - I get nuff respect
It's nothing to J to leave
You stuck where you stay
Have you clutching a trey
You'll be ducking a stray
The lust how I play
When you're nice and up-and-coming
Everybody got something to say
It's either, "You sound like
Him, " "You're wack, you're silly"
You're too tall, too small, fat, or skinny
He bluffing, he shaking, or
He gonna grow up to be nathin'
With not enough education
That's why I stay up and be pacing
And yell eff you gonna love and hate him
If you don't love me, you hating
Not a jerk sick as this
With words ridiculous
He's only nineteen - I got birth certificates
I know you mad as hell
You ain't never pass a cell
Come to bing, you just sing like Pat LaBelle
And you wack as hell
Listen, chimp - you - - still would
Stink even if you used Vagisil, hell
The chickens sit and yell
I'm sickening, you smell?
And glistening, you tell
Plus I still will hit your
Whip up with some shells
That'll throw your V in the
Air quicker than Pharrell
I'm way in the zone, Dikembe Malone
These small guys are small fries
Leave this player alone
You ain't waving on chrome
Any casualties, this fag'll be at the academy
Like, "Here's your statement, Mahone"
Don't mistaken me, homes
For all this gray in the stone
I still squeeze a trey and let
Em lay in your bones
Eff if you lift weights or you tone
I'mma empty and throw the pick in
Your face like Razor Ramon
Uh, let me hear a raise in your tone
Prick, I kill you gonna need a semi-steel
Come to bricks, I move em semi still
And get the weight off
Faster than Trim-Spa will
My nills, I don't get weed in the gone
But, I might go get some weed when I'm gone
On the beach, had a reef keeping me calm
With a bad Waikiki freak in some thongs
Who can't wait to breath on the bong
It feels good to walk past palm
Trees with trees on your palm
Then hit her twice in the morn
And see how all these player haters
Want to beef with the Don
Cause VVS in my charm from
My sleeves to my arm
23's on the lawn, I just sleep on the yawn
Cause admit it
You ain't never seen nobody this
Sleek since the Fonz
So don't confuse the beast
For all the losers, creeps
If you rich, prick, we got tools and heat
And take everything down to
Your shoes and sneaks