"Cleaning Out My Closet Freestyle" lyrics
Where's my snare?
Yo shout out Kells, seeing him doing the freestyles got me inspired
Yeah, okay, paranoid gotta keep a pistol on the black dresser
Went twice as far as most of the rappers where I come from 'cause they some half-steppers
Ironic that mama ain't wanna hear me playing no rap records
I turned into a professor, unless you dropping that weak shit I'm a oppressor
These pills I got homie, they not prescription
Posted up on Church St., getting money but it's not religion
Mom, she was so saint-like, who I gotta thank for these thug habits?
Dad stopped playing baseball with the kid, went to be a drug addict
Meditating at the crib, tryna clear this conscience
Two devils on my shoulder talking in my ear, homie and it's constant
Took so many Ls, feel like I never come after Ws
Like when you write an address and abbreviate Wisconsin
So many fake ballers in the game, feel like I'll always be deranged
If I buy some chains off Shopgold then we all could be the same
Y'all took "take it till you make it" to an all-time high, I can't relate
I'd rather be honest 'bout where I'm at and whip up more butter, make the cake
Y'all scraping up change and you on the street looking like low riders
Yelawolf Black Sheep set the whole wave, now a bunch of white rappers, some flow biters
Fuck it I got more drive than a transmission and four tires
If you never paid homage, clutch the Louis bag when you roll by us
In a industry full of ghostwriters, no telling who could rap
Having someone else tell your whole story, how the fuck you cool with that?
Got six mug shots on the internet homie and you could Google that
And I went Melly when the police came, I got nothing to do with that
I grew up round biker gangs, never say a damn word then get the RICO dropped
Y'all favorite rapper telling on they homeboys, went and got they people got
Shit I can't respect, police come, I can't recollect
She gave me head inside of that sprinter, her and my dick are neck and neck
Black sheep records on the chain, from Johnny Dang it's on the way
I made a Latto off of these raps, y'all pockets thick as Coi Leray
Thought I'm producing albums for Drake the way that I make this forty play
Have forty motherfuckers outside your house, it won't cost me 40K
I'm that same kid signed to Birdman back when I was the herbman
American History X, shave the head, have you biting the curb man
They'll get a handout then double-cross you, I seen that shit firsthand
Homie said he don't know if he could be a star, had to tell him you sure can
God Father, y'all kiss the ring when the king come, thumbing through
A motherfucking check, bet none of y'all ever seen ones
Reason why they give mean mugs, y'all tryna give the kid smoke but I got clean lungs
Type of shit make me wanna go and grab machine guns
Speaking of which, the first rapper that I ever linked with was Kells
Back when he was touring down South Florida and I was working scales
Passing CDs outside of shows for free, wasn't even making sales
Then he linked, gave me a feature, said "You a real one and we could tell"
Then I got signed, that two-hundred grand was like money in the mail
But then them drugs took me into deep water, got hard for me to sail
Lost my deal, went broke for a little while I had my ego frail
Upset that I never did what he did, had to watch as he prevailed
But I never hated on him, prayed for him and cheered from the side
Know another man's success really got nothing to do with mine
That shit was motivation to stop complaining and get back on the grind
Go make that music that resonate with you, let God deal with the time
Think about how Van Gogh never sold a lot of paintings while he was alive
Remind yourself that you accolades aren't how you are defined
Think about pop's face hearing that you rap first time before he died
Think about that kid who said if it wasn't for you then he wouldn't have survived
Real shit
"Cadillac Music" on the way
I wanna say thank you to the fans, man
Black Sheep forever
Yo shout out Kells, seeing him doing the freestyles got me inspired
Yeah, okay, paranoid gotta keep a pistol on the black dresser
Went twice as far as most of the rappers where I come from 'cause they some half-steppers
Ironic that mama ain't wanna hear me playing no rap records
I turned into a professor, unless you dropping that weak shit I'm a oppressor
These pills I got homie, they not prescription
Posted up on Church St., getting money but it's not religion
Mom, she was so saint-like, who I gotta thank for these thug habits?
Dad stopped playing baseball with the kid, went to be a drug addict
Meditating at the crib, tryna clear this conscience
Two devils on my shoulder talking in my ear, homie and it's constant
Took so many Ls, feel like I never come after Ws
Like when you write an address and abbreviate Wisconsin
So many fake ballers in the game, feel like I'll always be deranged
If I buy some chains off Shopgold then we all could be the same
Y'all took "take it till you make it" to an all-time high, I can't relate
I'd rather be honest 'bout where I'm at and whip up more butter, make the cake
Y'all scraping up change and you on the street looking like low riders
Yelawolf Black Sheep set the whole wave, now a bunch of white rappers, some flow biters
Fuck it I got more drive than a transmission and four tires
If you never paid homage, clutch the Louis bag when you roll by us
In a industry full of ghostwriters, no telling who could rap
Having someone else tell your whole story, how the fuck you cool with that?
Got six mug shots on the internet homie and you could Google that
And I went Melly when the police came, I got nothing to do with that
I grew up round biker gangs, never say a damn word then get the RICO dropped
Y'all favorite rapper telling on they homeboys, went and got they people got
Shit I can't respect, police come, I can't recollect
She gave me head inside of that sprinter, her and my dick are neck and neck
Black sheep records on the chain, from Johnny Dang it's on the way
I made a Latto off of these raps, y'all pockets thick as Coi Leray
Thought I'm producing albums for Drake the way that I make this forty play
Have forty motherfuckers outside your house, it won't cost me 40K
I'm that same kid signed to Birdman back when I was the herbman
American History X, shave the head, have you biting the curb man
They'll get a handout then double-cross you, I seen that shit firsthand
Homie said he don't know if he could be a star, had to tell him you sure can
God Father, y'all kiss the ring when the king come, thumbing through
A motherfucking check, bet none of y'all ever seen ones
Reason why they give mean mugs, y'all tryna give the kid smoke but I got clean lungs
Type of shit make me wanna go and grab machine guns
Speaking of which, the first rapper that I ever linked with was Kells
Back when he was touring down South Florida and I was working scales
Passing CDs outside of shows for free, wasn't even making sales
Then he linked, gave me a feature, said "You a real one and we could tell"
Then I got signed, that two-hundred grand was like money in the mail
But then them drugs took me into deep water, got hard for me to sail
Lost my deal, went broke for a little while I had my ego frail
Upset that I never did what he did, had to watch as he prevailed
But I never hated on him, prayed for him and cheered from the side
Know another man's success really got nothing to do with mine
That shit was motivation to stop complaining and get back on the grind
Go make that music that resonate with you, let God deal with the time
Think about how Van Gogh never sold a lot of paintings while he was alive
Remind yourself that you accolades aren't how you are defined
Think about pop's face hearing that you rap first time before he died
Think about that kid who said if it wasn't for you then he wouldn't have survived
Real shit
"Cadillac Music" on the way
I wanna say thank you to the fans, man
Black Sheep forever
