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letra de say goodnight freestyle - the ill spoken

[verse 1: mac miller]
the young [?], wearin’ his jeans low
chillin’ with vintage and beedie and k!llin’ this primo
the young [?], wearin’ his jeans low
chillin’ with vintage and beedie and-
the young [?], wearin’ his jeans low
chillin’ with vintage and beedie and k!llin’ this primo (you know)
ill spoken, basically i got that mean flow-
the young [?], wearin’ his jeans low
chillin’ with vintage and beedie and k!llin’ this primo (you know)
ill spoken, basically i got that mean flow
i make it hot, like you puttin’ on three coats (yup)
i spit remarkably with words that could part the seas
spark the tree, grab a pen and pad and just start the beat (chyeah)
’cause i’m just tryna (chill, chill) write some sh-t
light the spliff, get high ’cause life’s a b-tch
so we have nights of mischief
hittin’ piff, flippin’ zips, [?] chips, takin’ cats out they licorice (gimme that)
i’m all sk!lls, no name, no nothing
game don’t care about the flame, no chain, no [?]
you spit fire, easy mac’s got that blue flame (yup)
i’m heated, wheated, ready to do things
this sh-t amazes me, thought i had a new brain (uh-huh)
[?] feelin’ this dude’s game is too plain, ba-da-boom-bang (oh)
cats thinkin’ they can hang
got yourself a gun, now cats thinkin’ they can slang (what you doin’?)
i kick knowledge at those who need to learn
and i spit fire towards the mc’s who need to burn (burn)
burn, baby, burn, it’s the baby’s turn
crazy spittin’, rabies, aids be worse
spreadin’ sickness, sprayin’ germs (germs, germs)
yeah, and that’s how it goes
in case you haven’t heard before (what?), well, now you know (haha)
[verse 2: vintage]
ayo, i move on tracks like trains
and drop jewels on tracks like chains
let a fat sack relax my brain
i attack tracks with a [?] aim
vintage kick it classic ’cause that’s my name
for the bread i am leaving cats [?] flat
as beedie gettin’ cheesy, it’s simple as easy mac
the ill spoken on the come up, still smokin’ when the blunt’s done
’cause we that fire, better ask someone
hope you catch just rap for fun
’cause we run laps around ya tracks faster than the nascar runs
i just wanna smash somethin’ with the ass all plump
splash fast, watch some m-a-s-h re-runs
sip some coke and rum
hip-hop, ya hope has come
how high get more playin’ time than the coach’s son
known as vinny the truth, strong as 151, and i’ll give ’em the proof
so, beedie, give ’em the poof

[verse 3: beedie]
on the mic, i flip b-lls like dominique dawes
i’m the hunt to get yours, i kinda need to floss (what?)
gotta be the boss, these other rappers is soft
like toilet tissue, so official, i’m feelin’ it, sauce (what up?)
i’m in the club, man, but ain’t n0body heard about me
i’m in a pair of air nikes and a dirty white tee
i see a couple of cuties and they lookin’ at me (sup, baby?)
could it be? i’m sippin’ vodka mixed with purple [?] (haha)
sippin’ and spillin’ [?]
the villains wilin at the ball without a proper id
i be the underaged, the [?] person with [?]
that’s ready to rip your heart out, i feel it up in my veins (f-ck)
it’s me, vinny and mac spittin’ plenty of cr-p
gimme ya sack, i’ma flip it to a penny and packs
so, ho, who really on track? my train never stops
leavin’ marks and scars on the mic, it’s sizzlin’ hot, ya dig?
[outro: beedie, vintage & [?]]
haha, and that’s the truth (yeah), muhf-cka, haha
(what you know about it, mayne?) the ill spoken
(can we get brother free?) vintage, 412 (we out)
(can we get [?]?)

- the ill spoken

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