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samurai (40) - blackbox freestyle lyrics
i want me a trap with bare bits and bare nitties too
but my gyal mithering but baby i’m gettin’ sick of you
i’m on the road tryna l!ck man for bits of food
i’m with the bros, if you want it we’re grippin’ tools
so you better watch yourself, don’t be slippin’ fool
i’ll catch a bro on the road when he’s leavin’ school, aye
punch, punch in a mans eye, big bomb tell a man f_ck up
yeah my names samurai, tell a big man shut the f_ck up
man keep talkin’ bout long days, well at least you feel
for a while my life been trap, gas and nutrition pills
i want me a whip with blacked out windows and heated seats
he wanted a war, we went to his gaff, he said leave it plеase
i sold every z for 220 but thе weed was cheap
and i stack my p’s for straps, i ain’t stackin’ for a jesus piece
f_ck that, man are out ere’
bare haze, bare dawg, no drought ere’
and all of my g’s are certified dons cah’ no p_ssyoles are aloud ere’
tell me are you wid’ it, listen to my lyric
bro got the chronical, suttin’ like ridd_ck
it’s mad when i jump in, two bombs everyone say i’ve tumped him
man are hated, yeah i’m donald trumpin’
hood famous so i’m on a gun ting
and anytime someone wants war with me i yap call them man
and man bun him
everyone deaded
knuckle sandwich, so you know i fed him, ay
everyone deaded
knuckle sandwich, so you know i fed him, ay
now i’m smokin’ on ammo
lurk on a man blacked out, no camo
still rob you if you’re movin’ paro’
and i don’t give a f_ck cah’ my mindsets narrow
no way, can’t be _rs_d with alla’ that
if you want problems just call a man
no need to go backchattin’ and b_tchin’ like a gyal to all the man
yeah my names samurai, yeah i order man
now they got me in the booth to record a man
and i love 40, i’ll die for the man
and i come from the north like oregon
i got man in london and birmingham
hold tight mike in pen
can’t wait til’ i see brodie again
gonna put man on their toes like stem
f_ck the fed cah’ they’re lockin’ up all my friend
f_ck the haters who tried rob my leng
try your ting at night, you get chopped by 10
one phone call and you’re gettin’ robbed by dem’
one phone call and you’re gettin’ robbed by man
might affi’ dash you in a transit van
it’s sam or worma, man talk bout he’s a big earner
i was actin’ dumb, i was movin’ like a learner
until i hit his spot and i was holdin’ on the burner
if it ain’t the burner, then it’s a chete’
catch a boy slippin’ on the ends for my ready’s
i speak fluent guapanese
choppin’ trees til’ there’s only leaves
these b_tches wanna breeze with the team
and get on their knees like
pedal bike and i’m gangin’
man want war, we ain’t rampin’
man talk sh_t but they actin’
bare jucks all on me, you ain’t stabbin’
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