Luisss - On The Radar Freestyle lyrics
[Luisss - On The Radar Freestyle lyrics]
Like what? Grrah
Like what? Gang
Grrah, grrah what?
Grrah, grrah gang
Like what, like what? Blow
Grrah, grrah uh
If a girl talk on me
Call up Perc and tell her "Oot"
Outside with the knock on my boot
One thot with a K like I'm playing Kahoot!
She keep sayin' her name
I don't care if you Groot
Walk down, gang, put the beam in a–
If I have a son, yeah, I'm naming him Kyte
Remember that song, "You was wrong
I was right"
Keep a blunt, I keep a swift piece of light
Put that boy in a tee, no Grizzley
Outside, bitch, I was totin' a stitchy
Feel like Lil Wayne, I'mma sign for a–
She fuck wit' my flow
But I'm not talkin' Milli
I feel like Yeat in the bank, I get busy
I feel like Yeat 'cause I know I deserved it
Get stressed, no bitch
It's not even worth it
I was probably high if I thought she was
(Perfect)
Grrah uh, uhhh, yeah
Uh, uh (Grrah, grrah) grrah, grrah
Grrah
off the leash! tana & yvngxchris
ОЙДА (OIDA) oxxxymiron
I'm the don of New York, and they know me
Ballin' off of the court like Kobe
I'mma go shoot off the left like Ginóbili
Kyle Richh, how I spin on my doley
Sat 'em up on the drill, I'm lit now
Never wit' the bustdown
That's my wrist now
40, Barretta, karate and what?
New York, I'm ballin' like the Knicks, Out
NYC, did a show wit' BK
Whole city know "Richest Out BK"
Sippin' on Faygo, that shit do not–
In the stu' and it bat like a replay
45 Glocks and I tote on Barrettas
I got the racks in my Louie V sweater
Real deal racks, yeah, my drip–
Real deal racks, yeah, my drip better
How you gon' hate on me, yeah
But you broke?
Got the real deal racks on my coat
Got your gun in the back and she givin' me–
But she only get one night
Feel like Lil Boat
Postin' out tickets, I'm sellin' out shows
Polo G, man, I feel like the GOAT
40, Barretta, my Glock, yeah, I tote
Punch in, I do not write in my notes
Punch in, I do not write no songs
Your girl in the crib and she wearing a–
Your mans, yeah, he got put in a bong
Guess that wasn't your mans for long
Guess that wasn't your mans at all
Stackin' the money, I stack it real tall
Chillin' wit' tana like "Fuck it
We ball"
I call it my rent, yeah, I'm finna ball
I call it my rent, yeah, I'm finna ball
Like what? Gang
Grrah, grrah what?
Grrah, grrah gang
Like what, like what? Blow
Grrah, grrah uh
If a girl talk on me
Call up Perc and tell her "Oot"
Outside with the knock on my boot
One thot with a K like I'm playing Kahoot!
She keep sayin' her name
I don't care if you Groot
Walk down, gang, put the beam in a–
If I have a son, yeah, I'm naming him Kyte
Remember that song, "You was wrong
I was right"
Keep a blunt, I keep a swift piece of light
Put that boy in a tee, no Grizzley
Outside, bitch, I was totin' a stitchy
Feel like Lil Wayne, I'mma sign for a–
She fuck wit' my flow
But I'm not talkin' Milli
I feel like Yeat in the bank, I get busy
I feel like Yeat 'cause I know I deserved it
Get stressed, no bitch
It's not even worth it
I was probably high if I thought she was
(Perfect)
Grrah uh, uhhh, yeah
Uh, uh (Grrah, grrah) grrah, grrah
Grrah
off the leash! tana & yvngxchris
ОЙДА (OIDA) oxxxymiron
I'm the don of New York, and they know me
Ballin' off of the court like Kobe
I'mma go shoot off the left like Ginóbili
Kyle Richh, how I spin on my doley
Sat 'em up on the drill, I'm lit now
Never wit' the bustdown
That's my wrist now
40, Barretta, karate and what?
New York, I'm ballin' like the Knicks, Out
NYC, did a show wit' BK
Whole city know "Richest Out BK"
Sippin' on Faygo, that shit do not–
In the stu' and it bat like a replay
45 Glocks and I tote on Barrettas
I got the racks in my Louie V sweater
Real deal racks, yeah, my drip–
Real deal racks, yeah, my drip better
How you gon' hate on me, yeah
But you broke?
Got the real deal racks on my coat
Got your gun in the back and she givin' me–
But she only get one night
Feel like Lil Boat
Postin' out tickets, I'm sellin' out shows
Polo G, man, I feel like the GOAT
40, Barretta, my Glock, yeah, I tote
Punch in, I do not write in my notes
Punch in, I do not write no songs
Your girl in the crib and she wearing a–
Your mans, yeah, he got put in a bong
Guess that wasn't your mans for long
Guess that wasn't your mans at all
Stackin' the money, I stack it real tall
Chillin' wit' tana like "Fuck it
We ball"
I call it my rent, yeah, I'm finna ball
I call it my rent, yeah, I'm finna ball