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2 raw for the streets - peedi crakk, freeway, indy 500 "freestyle lyrics

[verse 1: peedi crakk]
off the top of the d+ck, i’m like plastic on top of the bricks
or like platinum on top of a six
catch me on tape, on top of your b+tch
i might be on top of your strip
or in the club with a glock and some crys’, cîroc with a glist’
thugs see me pop and they flip
nah’mean, my whole team like the cream of the crop
nah’mean, i got a beam that lead up to the dot
scheme with a plot, the bubbling heat up and you drop
you gon’ know that it’s trouble when peed’ up in your spot
my name crakk on bottom then i muzzle your rock
guzzle the vok’, we huddled and i cuddled the block
rock it to sleep, yeah i ain’t seen you cop in a week
so them broke n+ggas shouldn’t have nothing to say
when i approach, n+ggas ain’t got nothing to say
what you wrote? n+gga, you ain’t got nothing to say
c+r+akk, got the mac and the yayo
i like to play slow or side like a slither ring
get mayo and ride with my k!ller team
poppy got a pie, you’d better hide it ‘fore i see it you know
i need the lexus, cable where the rest is
crakk and 5 in barbatos on our way to texas with one question
“where the dough at?”
run up in your session like “n+gga lemme blow that
and where the hoes at?” i need my d+ck sucked
down south b+tch suck d+ck like it’s good luck
but she a dead f+ck, and i’m from north brick
y’all on some bullsh+t and i done did everything from
slanging the rock to (uh) banging the glock
ducking the cops who want it stuck at the top
c+r+a+c+double the the+k
bring it where you lay, brilliant and bay
many mash sh+t up, pit+pat sh+t up
shows over, rap it up
goes over, get that platinum up
dude come up out it
ever since a youth and i’m still about it
f you’s how i feel about it
vest be proof, firearm be known
smoke aqua+green and smoke out your team
coke rock the beam and nick rock the blocks
i first thank the fiend then blink out the drop
600 i sell, [?]
captain [?]
see me and big demi got a thing with the treble
i+c n+gga, what it’s gon’ be n+gga?
[verse 2: freeway]
k!ller crack+o, freeway; it’s that simple
i put the street on beats, i put the heat on chumps
my connect with roc? put the pressure on freaks to hump
and they do get f+cked
put the pressure on my n+ggas and we shoot sh+t up
i’m out the park like babe ruth, cop a beige coupe
brown guts beez on the wheels so i f+ck the town up
leave n+ggas like “man, did you see that sh+t?”
when i spit they like, “fam, did you hear that boy?”
y’all haters must realise that you don’t need war
c4 to your door like i’m related to b.i.g
hold glocks, rush spots and i’m relaying the kids
gotta run up in your shop, put the .8 to your wig
take everything out your safe, count the cakes
tie your ass up and calmly walk out your place
n+ggas smile in my face but i don’t dial they hate
mad ’cause the v12, hit the i+95
n+gga balling like i got nine lives
or i don’t give a f+ck about the whip i drive
or the cops on my ass and i got nine pies
when i’m really moving pies i’m in and out of lanes
in a buick or a bonneville, shipping ain’t a thing
put yourself behind the wall, what difference do it bring?
when you know the keys in trunk, os, zs in chunk
know the cops in rear, whole glock for fear
they hit the gas, my flow complicated
might, spit too fast or spit too slow
at the show, spit these bars and grip your hoe
at the lot, step sh+t up and switch the .4
yo, my flow a cocaine and a verse a o
now who you know iller than free?
copped white v, a cinnamon v
if you shiesty, hide low, send em in threes
i stomp a n+gga with cinnamon trees, so the blood don’t show
testified against free? show your mug little bruh or grow
my peeps see you on the streets, a lot of blood gon’ show
so die with that money since you love that dough
and die with that hooker since you love that b+tch
[verse 3: peedi crakk & indy 500]
twisted metal, throw a lot of lead in the ghetto
and i separate the burrows ’cause we ain’t that thorough
f+ck your feelings, f+ck you and f+ck the children
and if i catch you in that drop imma ruin your ceiling
it’s crakk and 5 + no doubt
how we ride? + in and out
and when i hear my name come out your mouth, it’s all out
do your top for your watch, cody, you don’t know me
squeeze with mad aim, blow your brains on your homie
so don’t ask, it’s crakk to the dash
k+to the+o, i throw the mac in your ass
i take cash ’cause it’s basic math
subtract yours equals mine, there’s no need to add
f+ck be wrong with y’all like i ain’t crakk?
like, i ain’t five seconds off your neck?
like, i won’t give it to you live and direct
wipe my ass with your sixteen bars and flex
something raw from the dirtiest side of the yard
and i ride with the boy that’ll bottle your b+lls
so how the f+ck y’all like me now?
and that be me that clapped them down
and the black m3 is double the k
ain’t nothing changed but the day
i still gain your dame off the plane, jose
hey holla at me, throw a million dollars at me
see i don’t f+ck with the small changes
you f+ckin’ with the wrong gangsta
the lone ranger who possesses strong anger
then touch you with the chrome, bang ya
twisted metal, throw a lot of lead in the ghetto
and i separate the burrows ’cause we ain’t that thorough
f+ck your feelings, f+ck you and f+ck the children
and if i catch you in that drop imma ruin your ceiling
it’s crakk and 5 + no doubt
how we ride? + in and out
and when i hear my name come out your mouth, it’s all out
that’s it

- 2 raw for the streets lyrics

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