lirik lagu jimi tents - phone down freestyle
i’mma bomb flex until that nigga start playin’ my shit
how they overlook me when they know this as great as it gets?
niggas sell they soul for a draco, you labels is sick
they ask me what i’m signin’ for, i tell ’em come label this d-ck
i’m tired of playin’ nice with all you made-up personas
i’mma grown -ss man, gavel bang like your honor
but of course court’s in session, correspond to the question
i ain’t rappin’ fake deep, sold dope and got depression
i ain’t stressin’ out a soul, i’m just focused on my goals
i’mma jump up in my bag, let off and then reload
sped off and now i’m ghost, east new york on my back
from plank right up to ke-rs-, reverse and hit pitkin ave
they try to say that i’m conscious, that’s ‘cause i don’t mumble
told the city i got it, the hottest ain’t never fumble
you warren moon, it’s war, you doomed
don’t need fumes in your foreign, boom
your favorite rapper suicidal on the morning news
it ain’t nothin’, levels set and they can’t touch it
they gaze upwards, same flow that they can’t f-ck with
straight buckets, all net like i ain’t dunkin’
go on records, been fed up for eight summers
a lot of times, these niggas try us but they ain’t triumph
and half the industry be biased ‘cause they ain’t buy us
a&rs think they slick, i gotchu figured out
corporate cars and crooked handshakes don’t mean you really ‘bout
supportin’ niggas, fake endorsin’ niggas, stop extortin’ niggas
walkin’ around like you the superstars, f-ckin’ corny niggas
high and mighty, tryna live a dream, ain’t you 40 nigga?
b-tch, i’m tourin’, torchin’ everything, b-tch, i want the glory
shout my nigga ebro, even he know i been workin’ hard
hard to tell yourself that you a boss, you lost and worked a job
i ain’t flaggin’, i ain’t tatted, i ain’t dabbin’, i’m just me
eight siblings in the struggle, shit i’m comin’ from the east
remember days in stomach pain, would hop the train to ride the three
now i hop on stage and i get paid just to ride the beat
ain’t nothin’ hurt like when the bank took the house from we
i was out for weeks, i ain’t sleep, b-tch, i’m out for beat
l double o d, lowkey, i’mma lock the streets
you sound the same on everythin’, your tone ain’t that hot to me
sweep ‘em up, get ‘em out, your shit trash, i’m here to stay
i’m tryna make a cl-ssic, f-ck a hit, my shit on willie mays
and your advice ain’t worth shit, don’t talk unless i speak to you
i keep it true and be myself then watch how you people move
social como-ramas buddy buddy, d-mn they lovey dovey
but we know when shit hit the fan, you got nothin’ for me
those the ones they listen to, those the ones that sold grams
those the ones that’s gangsta but they snitchin’ on they own mans
tell me what’s the program, i’m ‘bout to start shit
my offense’s often offensively toxic
if we talkin’ drive, i ride you niggas car sick
if we talkin’ best, the rest will seek exhaustion
my stock risin’, no dow jones, my tape was a milestone
should’ve called, catch the dial tone, i ain’t home
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