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big k.r.i.t. - circulate (freestyle) lyrics
[verse: big krit]
hey, this that round table talk, godfather speech
jury (?) flashin’, toast gl-sses to the mashin’
dollars circulatin’, haters congregatin’
we know it, we focused and waitin’, f-ck ’em
i do my dirt in the open, let the folk keep scopin’
they can’t stop my coastin’, not used to this motion
i touch nothin’
there’s no bustin’
i’m too important
yea, the king of the fortress
n-ggas is eatin’ off the table i set
before dessert come out, eliminating the threat
high side on the jet, like i finally made it
can’t have your cake and eat it, so i’m whoppin’ the baker
send him up to his maker, this is nothin’ i savor
ask god to forgive me… hol’ up, i might see him later
or some chick i f-ck way back hate that i’m the boss now
n-gga want some strikes and heard i’m the one to toss now
plus you gotta watch out for your circle
best friend from way back when be the n-gga that’ll murk ya
sleepless nights is normal now
no more blunts, cuban cigars, i’m formal now
let’s get it
never force the pieces till they ridged
cause that’s when the feds start indictment business
payoffs keep the weight off, till you go legit
buy land, flip houses, to clean up sh-t
i’m talkin’ miami loungin’, skatin’ away free
but somethings in life just ain’t meant for me
i hustle till the sun up
the hardest thing to do when you down is come up
get cars slippin’ at a stoplight, gun up
keep a hurter (?) close if a n-gga try to run up
real n-ggas out here tryin’ to make this money
if they won’t hand it to me, i’mma take this money
sometimes i hate this money
hey, i’mma bully in the school of life
i went from no dough to polos and rockin’ red ice
rubies, louie, i got that for my b-tch
bags, rags, tags, to ball and sh-t
i don’t think these n-ggas hear me though
i’m on that put you on a cereal box sh-t
see men block sh-t
hang you off a buildin’ till you show me the spot sh-t
whats the combination when they leavin’ and when do they drop sh-t
get money n-gga, f-ck what they talkin’ ’bout
last n-gga comin’ in, the only n-gga walkin’ out
krizzle!
[outro:]
hey phone tall (?) no cash sh-t at the end of this one
they say n-gga from mississippi ain’t got no lyrical content
and they sayin’ the south ain’t hip hop
you got me f-cked up
get money n-gga!
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