LA Leakers - L.A. Leakers - Freestyle #087 lyrics
[LA Leakers - L.A. Leakers - Freestyle #087 lyrics]
Type of nigga cook the birdie for
Breakfast and throw the fin up
Don't fuck with Maserati and Lexus
I pull the Benz out
My mama birthday comin' I might just
Get her the Benz truck
I cut off all my motherfucking losses
And put a win up
Kicking like karate that china
White in the blender
Send that shit to Michigan city
And tear the pen up
Mama said the federal prison where
I would end up
Attorney like 600 a hour just to defend us
Like "my God" all a nigga know is southpaw
I need a bitch with a pretty face
A bank account and a backyard
'Cause now a nigga swipin' black cards
911, black on black
It's a black attack I'm the black God
Not a fat nigga
But I been gettin' max cream
Addicts linin' up to get
Injected like a vaccine
Chopper on me daily it ain't safe
To live a rap dream
Niggas poppin' hella rap cap
For the rap cream
Ye's on my phone, Blaze on my phone, Rule's
On my phone, Gang on my phone
Trae's on my phone
Lamb put me on, Josh put me on, Tunechi
Put me on, Gazi put me on, god put me on
Now I can sit back in my
Mansion nigga blastin' my chef
Gettin' it crackin' I'm sippin' 'gnac
With a bitch or two
Cocaine class in my rap, pocket residuals
Rap game easy the trap, game was difficult
House came with cameras and choppers
I got a nigga rule
VVS's all in my neck, sets invisible
I done took this shit from the
Triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo
Whippin' that miracle
Paper over pussy and power
Boy that's the principle
Powder party bachelor pad
Bring some bitches through
I done took this shit from the
Triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo
Whippin' that miracle
Kill that shit and let it breath bitch
Youngins 'bout to slide
Send emojis with the skis bitch
Real king of the streets shit
Got three books for the 20
Westbrook, rest in peace, nip
Real king of the street shit
The marathon ain't never stopped, you put
These niggas on they feet, crip
I swear this shit it got the street sick
The last supper you might get it from
Some niggas that you eat with
Cocaine, whole thang
Freddie Corleone Soprano my whole name
Forgiatos on a pick up
I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord
Just Stones and Folks, man
Got some niggas that ain't never gon'
Talk on the phone man peace to Charlie Mike
I'm thuggin' until you get home man
Forgiatos on a pick up
I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord
Just Stones and Folks, man
It ain't no game finball
Uh, best rapper alive nigga
It ain't no game
Breakfast and throw the fin up
Don't fuck with Maserati and Lexus
I pull the Benz out
My mama birthday comin' I might just
Get her the Benz truck
I cut off all my motherfucking losses
And put a win up
Kicking like karate that china
White in the blender
Send that shit to Michigan city
And tear the pen up
Mama said the federal prison where
I would end up
Attorney like 600 a hour just to defend us
Like "my God" all a nigga know is southpaw
I need a bitch with a pretty face
A bank account and a backyard
'Cause now a nigga swipin' black cards
911, black on black
It's a black attack I'm the black God
Not a fat nigga
But I been gettin' max cream
Addicts linin' up to get
Injected like a vaccine
Chopper on me daily it ain't safe
To live a rap dream
Niggas poppin' hella rap cap
For the rap cream
Ye's on my phone, Blaze on my phone, Rule's
On my phone, Gang on my phone
Trae's on my phone
Lamb put me on, Josh put me on, Tunechi
Put me on, Gazi put me on, god put me on
Now I can sit back in my
Mansion nigga blastin' my chef
Gettin' it crackin' I'm sippin' 'gnac
With a bitch or two
Cocaine class in my rap, pocket residuals
Rap game easy the trap, game was difficult
House came with cameras and choppers
I got a nigga rule
VVS's all in my neck, sets invisible
I done took this shit from the
Triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo
Whippin' that miracle
Paper over pussy and power
Boy that's the principle
Powder party bachelor pad
Bring some bitches through
I done took this shit from the
Triple beam to the digital
Yayo 'bout to come out like mayo
Whippin' that miracle
Kill that shit and let it breath bitch
Youngins 'bout to slide
Send emojis with the skis bitch
Real king of the streets shit
Got three books for the 20
Westbrook, rest in peace, nip
Real king of the street shit
The marathon ain't never stopped, you put
These niggas on they feet, crip
I swear this shit it got the street sick
The last supper you might get it from
Some niggas that you eat with
Cocaine, whole thang
Freddie Corleone Soprano my whole name
Forgiatos on a pick up
I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord
Just Stones and Folks, man
Got some niggas that ain't never gon'
Talk on the phone man peace to Charlie Mike
I'm thuggin' until you get home man
Forgiatos on a pick up
I'm dogging the whole lane
All is well to the Lord
Just Stones and Folks, man
It ain't no game finball
Uh, best rapper alive nigga
It ain't no game