Smino Freestyle | LA Leakers Freestyle #065

Lyrics

[Verse] 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