sway king tech – saafir freestyle lyrics
[first verse]
1,2,3,4 then i come in the door and alright, here we go.
boxcar sessionist black magic is the magnet
breakin’ ’em down to micro fragments. i might go dragnet
shoot joe on friday if i miss i’ll get your one day
won’t forget officer monday i’m good with gunplay
i get wreck check the boss
don’t remove your firing pin punk ’cause i get off –
comes the safety freak a clip
or get plugged with the four-fifth
off my n-gg-s hip best believe the triggers gettin’ gripped
we stroll the back doors to the railroad is where we go
when we flow h-ll knows and elbows are shot thrown
don’t blink an eye gets ruff when i flex the ingrim chrome
don’t even try it.
i’m the arsonist ’cause i’ll burn you with the slug
i’m funky plus i got carpet fresh in my rug
tug a war and get dug six feet under
floor plans are banned combat hand to hand cowards clocks
is gettin’ cleaned with detergent if
you want to freak a funky flow we can splurge it
so i’ll perk like an expert
i’ll send a flow that’ll kill
bet i won’t break a sweat in a battle drill
[second verse]
breath control hold on! i’m so nasty, i’m disgusting
you need a permit and a gas mask to walk past me when im bustin
yall cats walk soft like wallabies over flows i water ski
half back see me side soup, twist, flip, a front tuck too
you a little over polite with the mics
how like a [???] like, excuse me, pardon me
but i’m like f you like it’s your first name
rapppin amazons with armenan one shootin out the word bang
toy soldiers overdosin with nerve gas and cocaine
you got the nerve da think that ish is dope man
i keep these junkies nod like he ran dope things
off the hardest h-ll the whole mother freakin country
drunk of the hobo junction cartel with these rhymes & beats
i’m like nonstop concrete thru you city
make a big willie sound as heavy as two “sneezes”
when i spit. i pitch cheeing out baseb-lls, meteorites
y’all cats just got warmer
rhyme image is playin pop warner
in the little league b-lls is bonapin, bloated
banana savage can’t shribble these so who’s ut
you cat’s is booty’s & coochies with crew cuts
when you bust you sound… so stale like
forty e’s in motel cutting they toenails
bustin a your -ss, you catchin a chest round
the saucee nomad mobbin up that west bound
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