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sir real j. - no hook lyrics

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young n-ggas run this sh-t out here

no hook

yeah, sir real j

(sir real j.)
i’m a district maniac
this tricked, spit sick wit ‘till i reign the track
what type of game is that? the type with no aiming back
chilling with some trees, taking shots where cheney at?

gazing at my pendants, and 80 grand benzes
through ray ban lenses, jay has expenses
i be, sick as an iv
try me and i’ll bring you back to your senses

fall off, no but really fall off
got the hottest calling shots and we mocking molotovs
and lob ‘em at all y’all. halt or get hauled off
to the altar, off and offered to the top dog

i’m just kidding, i’ve been tripping in my hollywood loft
sipping and swallow pink sh-t by the bottle, tryna stall coughs
now i feel awfully different, can’t stop from spitting off top
wait i meant getting off topic, let’s get some tonic on rocks

you tryna see stars, we scarred, still got that keyed arm
from when i hit the heat hard
when i hit you, you meet the er. f-ck pr
all you do is steel bars like it’s rebar

i’ve been under the impression, that’s there’s only this direction
it’s been non stop moving to the top slot section
onslaught in the booth, spitting automatic weapon
so where is charleton heston? cuz these beats need some protection

cuz i just f-ck em up, with that sucker punch upper-cut
the ovens what i’ve become, because my heat be running up
like heat stroke, when the beat goes, a kilo got me steve-o
got jaws i’m in beast mode, got pause i’m in tivo

my cause if for these folks, to see how i rewrote
the status quo, an animal, i’m ill and there’s no antidote
taking shots no cannon though, the hammer go, and damage foes
get barry’d like manilow- the mans below, the granite stone

we a finite type, i’m the finest
finalist in the fight for finding life’s finance
currently, my currency’s been flowing with a current’s speed
it’s surreal- wallet staying tighter than my rhyming. i’m signing off

(t. rose)

[y’all done f-cked up now, i’ve teamed up with a white boy]

i’m already proven stupid but i’m boutta go dumb again
your b-tch is like the end zone, watch a n-gga run it in
masked up, all up in your crib like i’m your son and sh-t
watch me peel a rapper, get it popping like some gum and sh-t

i be on that money sh-t, racks over everything
trap life, whippin up the crack on the karosene
d-ck her good, wish she would ask for a wedding ring
she can hit the door, like she out christmas caroling

shout out to the terapins, chili f-ck da city up
it ain’t take a lot to beat the top, its like a t-tty f-ck
i’m a bottle popper, you ciroc’ing out a sippy cup
made it rain on her, you was hating like “precipi-what”?

n-gga precipitate, you should get scrilla straight
i be tryna pitch an 8th, you be tryna catch a date
got me on that pick a prize sh-t, boutta catch a case
now you on that live or die sh-t when this semi spray

boutta go in overdrive, these hoes of mine, are so in line, i work a b-tch like over time, she’s so a dime, i stroke behind, i broke her spine, i owe a fine, i told her i’m, i’m the coldest kind, patron wit lime, d-mn
name another n-gga cold as i

i got bars, i’m bar codes
chips, cheese, i got nachos
i stack lettuce, u got beef, i keep sh-lls, tacos
chain the color of charcoal, b-tch the color of lemonade
if time is money, i’m an hour past, you n-ggas minute made, b-tch

- sir real j lyrics

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