A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #


"XXL Freshmen 2012 Cypher"

[Verse 1: Hopsin]
Welcome to the Ill Mind of Hopsin, where real life's an option
The ill lines that I spit make you realize you not sick
Science at its finest, tell Bill Nye to watch it
Now turn this sh*t the f*ck up till you feel high and nauseous
Yo, check out this verse I wreck, I think I'm more cursed than blessed
No one seems to know if my brain's the result of birth defects
I need a solution, pastors tell me that church is best
But they'll look at me devilish cause I'm how they interpret death
Everybody's always acting fake, rappers I hate be asking to collaborate
It's sad to say but it's the truth, that instead of trying to congratulate
They got they hands out like we playing a game of Patty Cake
But that ain't what I'm focused on
The day I step up in the lab with a sell out will be the day all hope is gone
The game's filled with a bunch of faggots who don't belong
Always claiming they real n*ggas but I ain't notice one

[Verse 2: Roscoe Dash]
Where the f*ck'd he come from and why is he here?
Dressed in some dope sh*t your stylist probably would wear
Look like Egyptian hieroglyphics and sh*t off in his hair
And the message is no one in this day or time could compare
Practice makes perfect, I practiced my whole life
Far from perfect but my worst sh*t is lapping 'em all twice
Feel like I put the "I" in win, 'cause I did it my whole life
So your first place or second statistics are all hype
I'm all flight, no really, I'm all flight
I live in the sky and get higher than four kites
If your girl like my music, don't worry, it's alright
The day we meet'll never happen, my hours are all night
I worked hard, paid off, floss the evidence, n*gga
All my pockets best friends with dead presidents, n*gga
Right hook the whole world, throw your bell for these n*ggas
No wonder they kept a spot on double-XL for a n*gga
I'm gone!

[Verse 3: Machine Gun Kelly]
Ugh, Cleveland, what's up? Kells!
'When I come around, people smell trouble
I don't f*ck with Photoshop
So holler at me when you wanna see a real jungle
The Eastside where fiends huddle
Outta towners come across them potholes stumbling
Make their knees buckle, street signs'll read struggle
Every couple months another shirt with R.I.P.s and we love yous
Instead of leaving school my friends are leaving out in a duffel
I bleed hustle, why the f*ck I need muscle? Run tell them that
I'm going in like needles in war wounds
Kids at the dorm rooms, syringes and harpoons
Summertime hot couple months before June
And have star power while in the planet below moon
Now that's classic, and with all of this wackness
Crowd for providing this track here it's madness
Without a witch and some spells I made magic
Motherf*cking monster, Lake Placid, Kells

[Interlude: Machine Gun Kelly]
Bring that sh*t back
Bring that sh*t back
Now bring that sh*t back
Lace up, uh

[Verse 3 (Con'td): Machine Gun Kelly]
I'ma consider this class brother, now learn something
A pocket roll, a E-Z Wider, a filter, a little hash so I can burn something
Just to help you cope a little bit more
'Cause 'round here tomorrow isn't for sure
And we coming up from mistake on the lake, double O
Bag it up, then we wake as we bake, Double O's
Burning up, then we making the cake, double stoves
Then I hop up out the b*tch with hella bread like a dozen loaves
That's money, biatch!
Lace up, ugh!

[Verse 4: Future]
Ugh, ugh, ugh, yeah
Coke Boys, something like Montana
With the bird gang like Santana
Real street n*gga repping for Atlanta
Ain't dropped but I'm still in the Phantom
And I blow that money fast like a candle
Yeah, and I still got stamina
Let my lil homie do you on camera
Yeah, we ain't nothing but some animals
Got a house and a condo in Miami
Why you doing what you do? for the f*cking Grammy
I do what it take for the paper chase
Freestyle, off the dome, whatever it take

[Verse 5: Danny Brown]
Ho, the only thing you gotta know
My di*k’s tucked around when I’m sitting on the floor
You think I'm gon' fall off? Got advice for you, homes
Fall asleep in your car, in the garage, with the engine on
Playing ping-pong with your b*tch jaws
You the type to have a sing-a-long in Superman drawers
I got a redhead ho, call her Molly Ringwald
She like to take a mount of Molly and bring Adderall
Sipping white wine 'til the sun set
Before it got dark, she already got naked
Then she start to neck it, then she got reckless
Rump shaker, Wreckx-N-Effects it
Bum stiggedy-bum stiggedy-bum, Das EFX sh*t
Left her bum sticky, fell asleep on the terrace
Me on the beat, that's a hate crime
With black ink, I murder white lines

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z #

All lyrics are property and copyright of their owners. All lyrics provided for educational purposes and personal use only.
Copyright © 2017-2019 Lyrics.lol