Belly – Freestyle Lyrics

[Verse]
Paid off the presi I feel like a lobbyist, a Saudi Wahhabi-ist
They struggle to swallow my cockiness, I came back to bruise your esophagus
Head shots, I just body shit, she ain’t foreign, that’s a body kit
If shit is too good to be true then the outcome is obvious, it prolly is
I’m in California house shoppin’, I remember I was couch hoppin’
Still slippin’, still poppin’, whoa, fuck it I ain’t never stoppin’, no
Yeah they in love with my frequency, she a freak and I need the shit frequently
I got a main bitch, got a side bitch and I hate ’em both equally
Hakeem ‘The Dream’ Olajuwon, dapper don with the fashion, I’m Dapper Dan
I fly her to Vegas to spend the night, then she suck my dick at the Hakkasan
Wit’ her eyes closed, that’s a blind date, call it blind faith, ’til my eyes roll
Like a spiral and they dilate while she gyrate on my gyro
Fire flow, pyro, I snap back, Cairo, like when Mike said ‘thpinal’
I’m the rap black rhino but the batch albino, I know
It’s so profound, they lost and I won’t slow down
Oh yeah my flow so foul, I spell studio with no vowels, think
4:30 in the socal, woke up shakin’ on the cold towels, broke down
I got nowhere left to go now, I got nothin’ left to show now, slow down
But [?] with your whole sound, there must’ve been enough to go ’round
Man fuck it that’s my old style so it don’t count
Gold crowns, no smiles, kings and prophets from my hometown
Held me down so I don’t drown, I swear the irony is profound
Wish I knew then what I know now, blind trust
Kill for you ’til the nine rust, wake up just to earn ’til we burn and turn to fine dust
And the fuckin’ urn is what defines us, mind fuck, mine’s fucked
Your mind could never do what mine does, back when Belly couldn’t buy lunch
A pill was less than a meal, it kick harder when you mix the Hawaiian Punch
I guess this is what I signed up for, 3, 2, 1, time’s up

Pusha T – M.F.T.R. lyrics

(feat. The-Dream)

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 1: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy acting like Mitch
“Paid In Full” was more than reading a script
Paid in full is really just being Rich Porter
Filling all standing orders
Would you question could I swim if you saw me walking on water?
Yeah, while every song got a rapper dance
Yuugh, I’m drug money like Dapper Dan
No retirement plans, no Derek Jeters
We all know I did it; Rodriguez
The illusion of money we don’t believe in
You ask me, Tyga looking like a genius
I’m Kim Jong of the crack song
Gil Scott-Heron to the black poem
Woo, the revolution will be televised
‘Cause we done see all and they telling lies

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 2: Pusha T]
You rather be more famous than rich
Play your role, it’s easy being my bitch
It’s only right for a queen to floss your shit
Rolex crowns, I emboss your wrist
The minimums, niggas ain’t synonyms
Dual exhausts, driving flying saucers
Diamond crosses, hang Takashi portraits
Street millionaires rub shoulders
And laugh at bitches fucking promoters
Hoping that they get noticed, still driving a Focus
What you fuck him for if you didn’t know what the goal was?
Shine, remote control blinds
That turn on the time lapse, controlled by the iPad
Ahhh, my living room rap scream crack money
I don’t trust rap niggas or rap money
See this air hole tech and get ratttttt from me

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[Verse 3: Pusha T]
Niggas talking it, but ain’t living it
Two years later admitting it, all them niggas is renting shit
They ask why I’m still talking dope, why not?
The biggest rappers in the game broke, voilà
They say it’s hate, but it’s these well-dressed snakes
That learn to walk on the concrete, I just saw it and spoke to it
Yuugh, you ain’t know, you got coached through it
Wooo, the rap fans got hoaxed through it
Haaa, the whole time I sold coke through it
Nigga, and records I was Bo through it
King Push is synonymous with kingpin
Chess moves on your checkerboard, king him
Yeah, this is gun slingers and Goyard
Uh, this is O Dog in the courtyard
You wonder why I’m still here
I’m America’s worst nightmare
Night, night nigga

[Hook: The Dream]
Creep up on these niggas
Creep up on these niggas
Speak up on these niggas
Speak up on a nigga
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Walk up in that bitch and wave at everything
Go and make it bang, go and make it bang
Gettin’ followed by them hollows, go and make it bang
Niggas ain’t been to church in a minute
But it’s funny how that TEC make a nigga get religious
Amen!

[produced by: Hudson Mohawke, The-Dream, Frank Dukes & Boi-1da]

A$AP Ferg – Kristi YamaGucci Lyrics

[Intro: NickNPattiWhack]
Aw lord baby, she got a flip phone
Damn baby, I been smokin’
Been chokin’ and its so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, baby
And choke them even harder
‘Cause you’s a dawg, you’s fuckin’ champ, these are puppies baby
They can’t fuck with you baby, lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks, Dapper Dan all on my back
Double G all on my cap, monogram on a Maybach
Testin’ that pussy like Pap (smear), eatin’ that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah), [Lil Pump?] she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write Yammy a letter, tell ’em I’m doin’ way better
“Plain Jane” the song of the year, I’m busy just chasin’ the lettuce
I’ma Calvin Klein model on billboards, I did a campaign with the fellas
Adidas done gave me another deal and Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJs, then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sendin’ me all these free clothes, momma just put it on eBay
I run the shit like a relay, niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me and Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that shit just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the fuckin’ world with this shit, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flaggin’ and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia, got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the fuck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
You need to get one of these fuckin’ Motorolas
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tyin’ up to punks
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talkin’ groupie bitches when I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talkin’ niggas, I ain’t talkin’ nada
They ain’t talkin’ figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruisin’ in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, fucked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m gettin’ buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playin’ chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losin’ track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)

ASAP Ferg – Kristi Yamagucci (feat. Denzel Curry & IDK)

[Intro: NickNPattiWhack]
Aw lord baby, she got a flip phone
Damn baby, I been smoking
Been choking and its so potent baby, we high baby
And you got the silver Gucci by my man Ferg, baby
You a giant baby, you steppin’ on these niggas’ necks
Sometimes you gotta just ease that left foot off baby
And then put your right foot on the, on the top of them, baby
And choke them even harder
‘Cause you’s a dawg, you’s fucking [??], these are puppies baby
They can’t fuck with you baby, lord

[Verse 1: A$AP Ferg]
Racks on racks on racks
Dapper Dan all on my back
Double G all on my cap
Monogram on a Maybach
Testing that pussy like Pap (smear)
Eating that bitch from the back (yeah)
Mumble rap all on that cat (yeah)
Lil Pump she makin’ it clap
I’m ’bout to write here me a letter
Tell ’em I’m doing way better
"Plain Jane" the song of the year
I’m busy just chasing the lettuce
I’ma Calvin Klein model on billboards
I did a campaign with the fellas
Adidas done gave me another deal
And Hennessy too, they got cheddar (alright)
Shoot videos in the PJ’s
Then I go hop on a PJ (yeah)
They sending me all these free clothes
Momma just put it on eBay
I run the shit like a relay
Niggas gon’ have to press replay
Yammy say hi to my daddy for me
And Jam Master Jay for TJ

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Goddamn, nigga
When it be raining outside nigga, you the umbrella
‘Cause that shit just bounce off you with that Gucci
God, nigga I’ma call you Kristi YamaGucci, baby
‘Cause you just all over the fuckin’ world with this shit, baby
Niggas cannot touch you

[Verse 2: Denzel Curry]
Trench coat mob is a Go-Go Gadget
You don’t wanna see a pretty scene get drastic
Fuckin’ with the lords, no Frodo Baggins
Niggas bring your clothes to the screen like a fat bitch
Even though my name is Denzel, no actin’
Pap-pap, puttin’ everything inside a casket
Track that, everything is gonna be a classic
Wrap that, put that bitch inside a prophylactic
When I’m rappin’, got no hard-on, double tappin’
From a city built on coke and pistol-packin’
See you flagging and they packin’ what you lackin’
Take you out and then they act like nothin’ happen
Amnesia got rid of the heater
Back in the hood where they blowin’ on reefer
I follow the light while you follow the leader
Now a nigga overseas where they checkin’ my Visa, look

[Interlude: NickNPattiWhack]
Nah baby, what kinda flip phone you got?
Is that a Nextel baby, Chirp baby
This nigga got a Boost, baby, what the fuck
Nigga, you gotta step it up
You need to get you a trap phone
You need to get one of these fuckin’ Motorola’s
Niggas can’t even track us, baby

[Verse 3: IDK]
Finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, finger roll, dunk, yeah
Ballin’ on my enemies, I ain’t even tying up to punks
Imagine when I tie ’em up, yeah
I shake ’em, they gon’ need a crutch, yeah
And I ain’t talking groupie bitches when I say they got their panties in a bunch
I’m talking niggas, I ain’t talking nada
They ain’t talking figures, gotta be six, seven or better
Tryna get a house, gotta get my bread up
Tryna stay on pace? you gon’ have to step up
Cruising in a Wraith, see if they make a get-up
Pull up to the place, fucked her when we met up
Yeah, I’m getting buzz, but I never let up
I ain’t seen a doctor, but I got my check up, check up, check up, check up, check up
I’m playing chess, you stuck on checkers
That’s why your gang can never check us
They take your chain, and now you neck-less
Check up, check up, check up, check up
I got a check on my watch (wait)
I’m losing track of time ’cause I don’t hear tick or no tock (yeah)

Curren$y – Micheal Knight (Remix) (feat. Raekwon) (Pilot Talk Trilogy Album)

[Intro: Curren$y]
Yah…Lames catch feelings, we catch flights, Ugh, Jet Life, Jet Life
Race cars and weed jars

[Verse 1: Curren$y]
Uh, I got a style for every bump in your face
Grease ball ass nigga, Pontiac judge, open and shut case
You know, I’m bow tied till I die, though I made an exception for the ’69
So quick off the line
Coin double side, no matter what, we heads up
We in the yard, tell your dogs they should be aware of us
We break it off, like an engagement gone bad
I fill your jaccuzi with them groupies make it a bird bath, miss me?
No you didn’t bitch, with that bullshit, miss me
Tryna claim Spitta name, tyrna be Ms. Me
All of that, kicks to me, silly rabbit trickery
You only around because my spot is where you wish to be
Hope to catch me sleepin’ by being freaky but baby girl
Let me be the first to say it’s not that easy
I wasn’t born yesterday, nor later on that evening
Just had to get that out the way and make the playin’ field even

[Chorus x2: Curren$y]
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, ski dooo doo dooo doo

[Verse 2: Curren$y]
And the view from the rockin’ chair improves
But I’ve yet to see a team fuckin’ with the crew
Near fall, I saw it all, wide frame
Everything with wings ain’t a plane man
Indo get rolled up like car windows
Avoiding the police man, them car Winslows
The wind blow in change, and I am not mad
Old garbage bag rappers need to find a style fast
Its written all over niggas like a Dapper Dan
Survive rough land, cactus plants growin’ in desert sands
Alive I stand, left for dead, though a nigga didn’t die
I got highed up so I could autograph the sky

[Chorus: Curren$y]
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, Michael Knight, Michael Knight
Michael Knight, ski dooo doo dooo doo

[Verse 3: Raekwon]
Yeah, Shalah, Louis rich
Definitely dressed down and everybody here know it
Yo, a snow white Aston on the ground with a poet
Louis the kid, who told you to come to the crib
Threw a bag in your lap and told you don’t blow the kids
We milled up, actually my flowin’ is real tough
Sport these gazelles, faded leather on real rough
Bank account, don’t even question
Spent all my money last year buyin’ shit investments
Marvelous, gangsta, New York nigga, make me sick
Rather screw honeys who ain’t cuffin’
All my life, six black kids stolen right from kick dice
And strip you and slice you
So listen young niggas, I’m a give you some jewels quick
Don’t ever rat your friends out, you stand in a pool of shit
Lookin like a crab ass faggot
Sooner or later them boys that was hating on you got the ratchets

Jay-Z – U Don’t Know

[Jay-Z]
Turn my music high, high, high, high-er
{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
Sure I do

I’m from the streets where the
Hood could swallow ’em and, bullets’ll follow ’em and
There’s so much coke that you could run the slalom
And cops comb this shit top to bottom
They say that we are prone to violence, but it’s home sweet home
Where personalities clash and chrome meets chrome
The coke prices up and down like it’s Wall Street holmes
But this is worse than the Dow Jones, your brains are now blown
All over that brown Brougham, one slip you are now gone
Welcome to Hell, where you are welcome to sell
But when them shells come you better return ’em
All scars we earn ’em, all cars we learn ’em like the back of our hand
We watch for cops hoppin’ out the back of vans
Wear a G on my chest, I don’t need Dapper Dan
This ain’t a sewn outfit holmes, holmes is about it
Was clappin’ them flamers before I became famous
For playin me y’all shall forever remain nameless
I am Hov’

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}

Sure I do, I tell you the difference between me and them
They tryin to get they ones, I’m tryin to get them M’s
One million, two million, three million, four
In just five years, forty million more
You are now lookin at the forty million boy
I’m rapin’ Def Jam ’til I’m the hundred million man
R., O., C

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
That’s where you’re wrong

I came into this motherfucker a hundred grand strong
Nine to be exact, from grindin’ G-packs
Put this shit in motion, ain’t no rewindin’ me back
Could make 40 off a brick but one rhyme could beat that
And if somebody woulda told ’em that Hov’ would sell clothing..
Not in this lifetime, wasn’t in my right mind
That’s another difference that’s between me and them
I smarten up, open the market up
One million, two million, three million, four
In eighteen months, eighty million more
Now add that number up with the one I said before
You are now lookin at one smart black boy
Momma ain’t raised no fool
Put me anywhere on God’s green earth, I’ll triple my worth
Motherfucker – I, will, not, lose

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
Put somethin’ on it

I sell ice in the winter, I sell fire in hell
I am a hustler baby, I’ll sell water to a well
I was born to get cake, move on and switch states
Cop the coupe with the roof gone and switch plates
Was born to dictate, never follow orders
Dickface, get your shit straight, fucka’ this is Big Jay
I.. hahahaha

{*"You don’t know.. what you’re doing, doing, doing"*}
.. will, not, lose, ever.. FUCKA!