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smith.b - fore!/free trial lyrics

(fore!)

i’m at ya throat like air pollution
homies on the road, they keep the product moving
push b-ss on the subway, keep the metro booming
and i’m with the beef, i keep h-lla toothpicks
they hit my phone, ask me “whatchu doin?”
i said “goin stupid, straight acting ruthless.”
bring the spice like a dash of c-min
straight droppin’ clips like the tooly p–pin
your cuban link is a 404
kick in the door wavin’ the 4-4
they been tellin me “the game is yours,” keep score
lost count like “who these bullets for?”
he moved just in time like a sliding door
i keep the bread and the cheese like a grocery store
yell “fore!”
make sure everybody hit the floor
and i’ll push ya wig back like i’m shucking corn
clean em’ up like i’m doing ch-r-s
spit sh-t tighter than a college dorm
they talkin’ bull, they finna get the horns
i’m boutta slide like a trombone, i’m ready for war
catch me rollin’ up a blunt in a warrant for my arrest
nine inside the jacket, i play it close to the chest
leave you full of dots like a standardized test
got plenty ident-ties like i was fletch
learned a pneumonic for all my new monikers
p-ssing the blunt to the probation officer
shawty she stick to me like i’m a polymer
keep the keys on me like commodore 64

(free trial)

[bridge]
higher than the voice offa helium
they really don’t know that they feelin him – numb
you barkin up the wrong tree – idiom
makin’ bad decisions, runnin’ round like an idiot – dumb
got everything you need call me amazon, champion
f-ckin’ up my life like the internet – click
got a bag of the gr-ss like i’m mowin the lawn
look up at the judge like “i know what i did”

[verse]
you’ll prolly never hear me on the radio
my ratio of hits is that of holes in cheerios
i’ll need a year or so to get to charting, til then, spar
yea this movie started from trash oscar
people asking for the feat and wanna take a mile
sh-t i spit spicey but my sauce is mild
keep the c-ke in the cup, don’t get too wild
catch me switching up the emails keep the free week trials
google couldn’t track my location, i’m in the twilight zone
i’m getting high, dancing in the museum like emma stone
on the phone with the ceos
slam my fist on the table yelling “make more dough”
roll a blunt that looks like it came from chipotle
rapping time machine, so i can do this all day
i excel with words like microsoft
straight collecting treasure like laura croft

catch me early morning in the loft
hanging up the rappers that i shot

[outro]

- smith b lyrics

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