Russ Millions, Taze - Lightwork Freestyle lyrics
Shylo Batchelor Ashby Milwood
[Russ Millions, Taze - Lightwork Freestyle lyrics]
(S-S-Swavy on the beat)
Tryna hit two man do that one time
Call that deuce my man picked up his legs
Dragged back his friend, try get boost
Been over there bait bait get
Chased like duck duck goose
Anything 8 get bun, run
Same for the BSide yutes
They know what we do
They know what we do, gun lean in your bitch
And splash up your Bruce
I'm stepping with Twin
I'm stepping with Krimz
We’re coming for you
Doing up slang Ying and that Yang
Maximum prof' thank god for the cats
Seen hella racks phone banging off
Holy moly pending pack who could it be?
Run down who could never me
Tweet real life, they just skeet neeks
I back it like B-B
Shh-shh, she love jeet-jeet, respirate
Make him leak, leak mSplash, my team, B
Run me down, I’m like how?
Back the dots you hear about
Love chat my name for some clout
Soon push the mash in your mouth
Gun lean, man gun lean
Buck me they run and scream
MSplash I love my team
Bang bang and still make P’s
Step on opps, she don’t get man
She say we’re better than them man
Hardy Boyz, Matt and Jeff
Taze and Russ like Method and Redman, facts
I don’t hear no chat
So tell a opp boy don’t lack
Don’t bring no one, are you mad?
Run up, stick my whoosh through
Your dad or uncle, b
This gon' sting way more than a bumblebee
You just entered the jungle, B
Talk with your chest don’t mumble, G
Wagwarn? What’s goody?
Run up, skin out your back through hoodie
Went with toys: Buzz and Woody
Spot an opp boy, he running like Boogie
Running like bogey
Must have a cold or something
He backed his tool
I couldn’t explain his running
More time no scruffing but he weren’t low
I had to fuck up my cousin, yes
I don’t chat to him, it’s not bless
I don’t want to hear 'bout love is stress
Whoosh, try run up and get bent
Push his friends when he went he said
Suck your mum and then jet
Look bumbaclaart, I’m so vexed
Let me show you why life complex
He’s on the net like it’s bless
Yes, they can never tell me 'bout mess
How many men been stretched?
How many men left stressed?
Ain’t that fucking ments
Tryna hit two man do that one time
Call that deuce my man picked up his legs
Dragged back his friend, try get boost
Been over there bait bait get
Chased like duck duck goose
Anything 8 get bun, run
Same for the BSide yutes
They know what we do
They know what we do, gun lean in your bitch
And splash up your Bruce
I'm stepping with Twin
I'm stepping with Krimz
We’re coming for you
Doing up slang Ying and that Yang
Maximum prof' thank god for the cats
Seen hella racks phone banging off
Holy moly pending pack who could it be?
Run down who could never me
Tweet real life, they just skeet neeks
I back it like B-B
Shh-shh, she love jeet-jeet, respirate
Make him leak, leak mSplash, my team, B
Run me down, I’m like how?
Back the dots you hear about
Love chat my name for some clout
Soon push the mash in your mouth
Gun lean, man gun lean
Buck me they run and scream
MSplash I love my team
Bang bang and still make P’s
Step on opps, she don’t get man
She say we’re better than them man
Hardy Boyz, Matt and Jeff
Taze and Russ like Method and Redman, facts
I don’t hear no chat
So tell a opp boy don’t lack
Don’t bring no one, are you mad?
Run up, stick my whoosh through
Your dad or uncle, b
This gon' sting way more than a bumblebee
You just entered the jungle, B
Talk with your chest don’t mumble, G
Wagwarn? What’s goody?
Run up, skin out your back through hoodie
Went with toys: Buzz and Woody
Spot an opp boy, he running like Boogie
Running like bogey
Must have a cold or something
He backed his tool
I couldn’t explain his running
More time no scruffing but he weren’t low
I had to fuck up my cousin, yes
I don’t chat to him, it’s not bless
I don’t want to hear 'bout love is stress
Whoosh, try run up and get bent
Push his friends when he went he said
Suck your mum and then jet
Look bumbaclaart, I’m so vexed
Let me show you why life complex
He’s on the net like it’s bless
Yes, they can never tell me 'bout mess
How many men been stretched?
How many men left stressed?
Ain’t that fucking ments