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g-turo - self explanatory (freestyle) lyrics
(intro)
so i’ve been hearing all of these thotiana remixes lately
and i been like…hmmm…man i should hop on that sh-t
and tear it up for the one time
show em how we do it
yo, i got murder on my mind
im a sniper it’s my prime, been behind
but i got it now it’s mine
you all better move aside cause the shepherd has arrived
i’ve been waiting all this time
for a chance to ride the hype
like maywether throwing blows
ima sting and ima fly
if this beat’s a game of poker
then my straight gon’ make you fold
new to the game
but he’s coming with the pain
i tell you he’s insane, he’s gon put you all to shame
coming for your soul, but the target is the fame
hit me if you’re raw, or i got you in my aim
they say im naive cause im nineteen
but it might seem weird
that my rhyme schemes be
thor’s lightning striking pain in peasants
i’m a viking taking all the hordes down like a sliding mustang
(he just had to say mustang )
my boy james told me let my nuts hang
quit being a b-tch, i know you got the f-cking guts man
i know you got a chain of profane ways to spray flames and drain the main veins of these lames
i gotchu bro you know we gon be
dragging n-gg-s like a ‘yote
hold up pause it for me
cause these boys they ‘bout to
take a shotty to the chest bone like that homie capicchioni
if only i had noted that i’m
born to be a potent poet
focused and devoted
to be noticed in my city
its funny though, cause it seems to me
that you people wanna hear n-gg-s rap bout sippin lean like it’s honey or maybe flex about they’re labels money, quit your fronting
i’m sorry, i get that its just rapping
i ain’t judging im just getting sick and tired of you junkies f-cking sucking
ima f-ck yo chick
got a iced out patek
i got p-ss on my neck and we boutta hit a lick but i can’t spit for sh-t
what the f-ck you talking ‘bout b-tch
say it with your chest
you ain’t hitting sh-t kid
i dedicate to slap your face, hard as i be slapping b-ss
smack your face through every place around the states and outter sp-ce
smash you with your mommas vase
slash up all your arteries
cut your body limb from limb and throw ‘em in the fire place
pack your sh-t up in a bag and grab a souvenir to brag, write it down, hit the booth and rap about it on the track
i’m lighter than a feather but i swear i’m better than eleven of ya favorite rappers packed all in one together
told you i’m about it, boutta bring it like im santa
man as smooth as brand new b-tter
with a brand new knife to cut it
but its vital that i got a henny bottle on the dial
i just had to open fire on you rappers like a lighter
when i light the blunt and punt you p-ssy n-gg-s to the sky
yeah ight, its turo baby
i just want to clarify
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