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letra de i’m a boss (freestyle) - g herbo

[intro]
l’s
(jahlil beats holla at me)

[verse 1: lil herb]

lil herbie i’m no limit
hit the strip with my doors tinted
on 28’s i’m ebk, f-ck the mob, f-ck the lake
i see juvie slam the rakes, i see shoota blam the 8
that’s word to god no county floor
my word is bond, that’s word to shawn
i grind for mine i ride for mine
don’t ride for yours i’m in this b-tch
no limit sh-t, i been the sh-t
don’t leave the sh-t, don’t need a b-tch
just tell her lies and feed her d-ck
no limit hoe, pull up in a benz or a lambo
with the black rims and the tan doors
try to rob me i know rambo
when the can blow, turn a man ghost
make his -ss float that’s some real sh-t
get your steel quick, you don’t feel me
n-gga feel this, them banana clips
they’ll peel sh-t if he didn’t know
put his info on the window
have project get his kinfolk
make his brains fly he a scantron
this for heron, i’m a real n-gga
you a tampon (p-ssy), throw the l’s up
throw your sets up
shoutout big buckz yeah he next up
let the .40 go blow his chest up closed casket
leave him messed up
i aim, bang, from the neck up
you see red stuff that ain’t ketchup
better catch up, cause i’m burning y’all i’m way too hot
i’m going in i ain’t gone stop
tell yo b-tch to give me top
my flow is cold the 8 is not
them bags look like tater tots
no limit the gang
put that thang to his brain
.45 c-cked back keep them lames in they lane
hit a stain for his chain
hit the club in a benz, then leave the lot in a range
i’m on top of the game, i do not f-ck with lames
you get popped for the guap, leave yo top re-arranged
my n-gga greg laid back but with that mac he’ll change
leave a n-gga holed up
smoking on that og stuff
rolling stogies in a dutch
when it get close we throw the duff’
yeah i’m all about that cash cream
sell a n-gga bad dreams
a lotta sh-t be on my mind
going broke the last thing
i go broke, you get poked
you don’t go, you get smoked
.44 to the throat, m.o.b f-ck a hoe
let her know, in the door
crazy james got semis with him
60 shots, 50 hit him
this ain’t rap we be drilling
in them traps making k!llings
compet-tion i don’t feel ’em
sending threats, i don’t fear ’em
i’m tired of talking bibby get em

[verse 2: lil bibby]

now these n-ggas ain’t eating man y’all need to get y’all weight up
i swear i’m so far ahead they tellin me to wait up
i be tryna make bucks tryna get my cake up
married to the cash me and her will never break up
only spit that real sh-t allergic to the fake stuff
catch me on the 9 get outta line get ya face done
sleeping on the kid tell ken turn the b-ss up
on my freddy krueger sh-t these n-ggas better wake up
racks in these streets attacking these beats
and my broski, broski tell me “dont lack in these streets”
n-ggas act tough and get whacked in these streets
my boy herb go crazy man relax in these streets
this ain’t a game boy it’s more than that
at your door with the choppa like you ordered that
i keep the heat like them florida cats
my n-ggas throw bullets like a quarterback
and these boys ain’t ready clips long as machetes
2012 kelly same color as the chevy
28 inches call that sh-t february
man these n-ggas act like b-tches call they -ss tyler perry
keep the hammer like madea, see me countin money
don’t get no idea cause u can get k!lled
all my n-ggas real and your b-tch probably will
got ya girl off the pill now she busting like my steel

- g herbo

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