lirik lagu blp kosher, luh tyler & trapland pat - quite frankly
[intro]
welcome back blake
d~mn, lemme get that motherf~cker
yeah
[verse 1: trapland pat]
we cuttin’ through the bronx
home runnin’, think we with the yankees
raw paper, championship ring, i got it on my pinky
if you don’t see luh tyler, and that kosher, n~gga quite frankly
trap went and ran them racks up, he just went dressin’ janky
[verse 2: luh tyler]
i’m in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this sh~t stanky
got your b~tch in here, and she throwin’ ass, she keep sayin’ “spank me”
see, these n~ggas they ain’t tryna get no bag, don’t know what they thinkin’
n~gga, i ain’t tryna make no friendships ’cause they get to sinkin’
[verse 3: blp kosher]
hoppin’ out on feet, passion pit, i take a walk
machine gun stays by my side like i’m megan fox
them boys playing air guitar, b~tch, i really rock
[?] and jojo in the cut that’s a butchers blood
i’m with luh tyler, no creator, odd future turnin’ bright
under my shirt that shinin’ armor only hittin’ l!cks tonight
that’s a dog fight, i’m breakin’ that sh~t up like dana white
jews name was mike cook, he let me cook and pass the mic
jitter bug, jitterin, i ain’t buggin’, they some lice
long nights up in that yoda, had to make a sacrifice
they disrespected ’til they saw i blew up, now they acting right
we be shining bright, the opps mad, flexin’ moissanite
[verse 4: trapland pat]
my side b~tch from brooklyn
pull up from that 3
hit that [?]
n~ggas mad hattin
quit cappin’ before we hook him
don’t understand why they hating
all my chances when i took them
all my hoes on my roster so bad but i don’t want them
[verse 5: luh tyler]
yeah, all my n~ggas doin’ good but all my b~tches bad
man, i swear these hoes be for the team and they be getting passed
see you ran up a lil’ cash but that ain’t finna last
i be stayin’ in my lane, i ain’t nothin’ like you n~ggas
man, my n~gga, he insane, got a b~tton on his pistol
i hit that n~gga b~tch like it’s nothing, bet he miss her
i just jumped up on the mic, then i took off like a missle
i’m a big dawg, to you n~ggas [?]
can’t get your b~tch off me, she sees these diamonds and these crystals
i’ma snap every time you put me on the instrumental
look at my neck, that b~tch on froze, it get cold like december
[verse 6: trapland pat]
believe what you see, not what you heard
’cause it ain’t [?]
25 thousand grams of swappery [?]
[?] ’cause luh tyler chain
25 ain’t gon make the cut for that johnny dang
i can show you how to make the m’s meet if it ain’t circulation
you gon’ have to really lock in, using concentration
if a n~gga say he run deerfield, thats exaggeration
[?]
[verse 7: blp kosher]
pat told me stay from ’round the trick, he ain’t odell
cash rules everything around me like a carvel
amy whinehouse, i’m sippin’ cherry in the motel
sir smoke a lot of opps, half baked, dave chapelle
speedin’ to that cheese in saint pete, but i’m not russian
woop dewoo, slid the palm tree with a bakers dozen
he was stretchin’ sh~t before the fame like he danny duncan
catch him out back and i’ma fry him, that’s a blooming onion
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