Testo Lunchroom Freestyle

Breaking them walls, shit loose
Dashboard hundred, yeah, zoom
Need that chocolate milk, bruh
Ayy, nah, where Saan at?
Give me some chocolate milk, bruh, let me get that
Sa— Ayy, Saan, go, bruh
This nigga playing, bruh
Go This nigga fire, I'm telling you, this nigga fire
Go, bruh

Yeah, yeah, Magic City war, man, he poor, I can't see the floor
Groupie ho on tour, press record, finna shoot a porn
Money 6'4'', Michael Jordan, out here grabbing boards
Still, I got Dior I ain't wore sittin' in the drawer
Hit her off a whistle, busted on her nipple
Saany sayin', "Error," ooh, don't make me giggle
I've been moving state to statе, traveling, I forgot to dribble
If a nigga out herе talking crazy, turn him to a widow
I was made for this shit, slaved for this shit
Mama prayed for this shit, know I prayed for this shit
Famous beach hoes, they tryna ride a wave on my dick
Bitch ugly, tryna get my 'Gram, gave her my Kik If she give the pussy up more, she bound to see me less
I get tricky with the steel though like ridin' BMX
Fuck around and make this K pop, look like we BTS
We gon' stop 'em, drop 'em, shut 'em down, DMX
Nigga, I ain't come to flex, I really came to ball like LaVar
Wait, I think I'm dizzy, in the double R, seeing stars
Get her out her drawers like a jar like they wrote a law
Nigga touch lil' bro, spin his block, then I'm callin' Saw

That nigga crazy, bruh, like, how he doing this shit?
Bruh, like, I don't know, bruh, I ain't even know a nigga could rap like that
Bruh, for real, bruh
Bruh, shut the fuck up, yellin'
Ayy, who goin' next?

I can drop a thirty off the bench, fifty if I start
I'm with fully, got the blicky with the switchy in the car
I can't do the moissanite, I spent a sixty on the charm
Roadrunner, scam star, pinging giffies like an alarm
Tryna keep up with us, might as well just drop dead
It was Sprite lemon-lime, now the pop red
Asking me, like, I'm winning? Like, are the cops fed?
Heard he got cold feet, I'm with the hotheads
.308s'll turn his mop into some chopped dreads
Rocking Vlone with the fam', I ain't got friends
I'ma throw up if I smell some Tris, bitch, I'm a Wock' head
Thinking he a big fish, leave him on that dock dead
Time to throw him back in the water
I don't zoom in the whip, I blast in a saucer
Punch God, I got a long pass with embossers
Them fake Cartiers, take 'em back to Gibraltar
I don't write songs, but how they sound, you'd think I'm an author
Baby Draco hit his leg, call him Kemba, he need a walker