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greed - ransom freestyle lyrics

first thing first, it′s long live ransom
(uh huh, uh)
f+ck from the front and she saying i’m handsome

n+gga get mad, and my crodie gon′ splash some
(blah, blah, blah, blah, blah)
my crodie gon’ splash some
she do the most for the camera
lil black, lil white, call her a panda
short day, long night, call him a trapper
call him a capper
he ain’t a scammer, just call him a rapper
give me some sugar, she take off the wrapper
go mod on the beat, like my name is parappa the rapper
my crodie a trapper
my other homie, he gon′ sit on your block like a camper
get her a pamper
that p+ssy so wet, your b+tch dry like a grandma
she look at my watch, she ain′t checking the hour
if you live by your hammer, you die by your hammer
got a new ticket, they caught me on camera
free up my bro, cause he cropped my camera

talk on my homie, that’s fight you don′t pick
talkin’ ′bout homie, you toting a stick
talkin’ ′bout homie, he got a gg with a d+ck

and, who gon’ live, don’t be last pick
like, long live jayy and free my clique
like, canteen full, don′t need no shiv
like, clip too full, don′t need no switch
it’s like a movie, crodie pitch, pitch, pitch, pitch, pitch

if i call up deego, you gon′ be f+ckin’ your b+tch
if i call up ssh, he gon′ shoot up your crib, huh
like, how could we miss
back in high school, you was really the sh+t
back in high school, i was skipping to finger ya’ b+tch, uh
and i′ma diss
dissing me back, you gon’ swim in the fish
boy from the boonie’s, his life was just mid, uh
n+gga, you really my kid
i can never accept that she turned into a b+tch
(uh, uh, uh, uh)

you said you got money, so why are you duckin′

call up your b+tch and i′m gettin’ her f+ckin′
call up my homie his gg get bussin’
call up my crodie, my wodie, my homie, and all of a sudden, you turn into nothin′
thought i was out of my luck, and
got me a pack and the numbers start bumpin’
she l!ck for an hour, she mad i ain′t bussin’
that boy a bowaz, he eating the b+tt, and
we up to somethin’
see double m′s, and you know that they cuttin′
know that they runnin’

(uh, uh)
we was on the block, if you ain′t pushin’, rock, gon′ make a wop
he caught a box like chris rock
he a cop, movin’ chopped
seen the undie make a stop
hit the gas
taking off
all that ass
take it off
shake that sh+t, then make it drop
ass so fake, this sh+t might pop
i come from k!llers, meet my pops
i live for jayy, you live for b+tches
diamond pearls, we should have riches

like, where my brodie go? where my crodie go
cordie got that 40 on him
might sip this 40, sip 40 more
like how you wife her that b+tch a how
(ha)
guess she good to go

- greed lyrics

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