Smino - Smino Freestyle | LA Leakers Freestyle #065 lyrics
Smino [Christopher Smith Jr.] St. Louis, Missouri, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Smino - Smino Freestyle | LA Leakers Freestyle #065 lyrics]
I know niggas off that glass like a bank shot
Layin' on they back bored glass in a ziploc
What you do the eighth for?
Mama raised a hustler
Swingin' the Lord's sword
Slammin' a Porsche door
Talkin' split so much
Feel like I'm in divorce court
Niggas lettin' labels bitch 'em
Out they own song
Poor soul with that ol' bitch in my torso
I'm goin' up like the Lamborghini car doors
Whoa from the preacher's deacons to
Bloods in my community
They know it ain't peachy
The fuzz creepin' like puberty
Jumpin' for joy, jubilee
Gruesomely treatin' you and me
We usually these types of foolery
But I mix all my vices quite like spices
Price is up
I got the bubble likе Sprite fizz
And that's a bargain, these vеrses no bargain
Pour up like I bartend, a king like Martin
Lawrence, mama crib, she let the fish burn
Spaghetti with the rolls that make
Me think 'bout my sister
For sure, niggas don't want
Smino 'plyin' no pressure, boy
Zero gang, throw it up like I'm dry heavin'
Get the money
Make it tumble like dry cleanin'
Niggas salty 'cause it's my season
Fuck that pocket watchin' partna
I'm an Audemars, might stop breathin'
I was alive, I'm way ahead of my time
She gave me head of all time
She in ahead of fime i mean ahead of fame
I been playin' this wang
She say she single for the night
I got a pringle can pipe and if she fly
I might even might sprinkle in a flight
Put that pussy on a birdie
Tell her pack a overnight
Give me contact for emergency
Tonight that pussy die
I kill it every time and then
We brought it back to life, whoa
I'm thinkin' about movin' home
My daddy gettin' old
Still got that young soul
That's where I get that from
Used to shop secondhand clothes
Smell like cigarette smoke
Grew up 'round niggerish folk
Middle class niggerish folks hol' on
Layin' on they back bored glass in a ziploc
What you do the eighth for?
Mama raised a hustler
Swingin' the Lord's sword
Slammin' a Porsche door
Talkin' split so much
Feel like I'm in divorce court
Niggas lettin' labels bitch 'em
Out they own song
Poor soul with that ol' bitch in my torso
I'm goin' up like the Lamborghini car doors
Whoa from the preacher's deacons to
Bloods in my community
They know it ain't peachy
The fuzz creepin' like puberty
Jumpin' for joy, jubilee
Gruesomely treatin' you and me
We usually these types of foolery
But I mix all my vices quite like spices
Price is up
I got the bubble likе Sprite fizz
And that's a bargain, these vеrses no bargain
Pour up like I bartend, a king like Martin
Lawrence, mama crib, she let the fish burn
Spaghetti with the rolls that make
Me think 'bout my sister
For sure, niggas don't want
Smino 'plyin' no pressure, boy
Zero gang, throw it up like I'm dry heavin'
Get the money
Make it tumble like dry cleanin'
Niggas salty 'cause it's my season
Fuck that pocket watchin' partna
I'm an Audemars, might stop breathin'
I was alive, I'm way ahead of my time
She gave me head of all time
She in ahead of fime i mean ahead of fame
I been playin' this wang
She say she single for the night
I got a pringle can pipe and if she fly
I might even might sprinkle in a flight
Put that pussy on a birdie
Tell her pack a overnight
Give me contact for emergency
Tonight that pussy die
I kill it every time and then
We brought it back to life, whoa
I'm thinkin' about movin' home
My daddy gettin' old
Still got that young soul
That's where I get that from
Used to shop secondhand clothes
Smell like cigarette smoke
Grew up 'round niggerish folk
Middle class niggerish folks hol' on