Griselda & BSF Freestyle | L.A. Leakers Freestyle #090 lyrics

[Intro: Benny the Butcher, Conway The Machine, & Rick Hyde]
Ayo it’s Benny the Butcher
Conway the motherf*cking Machine
It’s Ricky Hyde
And it’s big Griselda, big BSF in this motherf*cker
Ay you know we f*ck with the LA Leakers, man, my n*gga DJ Sourmilk, Justin Credible, but guess what, we took over the studio Rick Hyde, smoke these n*ggas
Griselda takeover, n*gga, Griselda takeover, yeah
Let’s get it

[Verse 1: Rick Hyde]
These applauds got me awestruck, I’m the wave, n*ggas washed up
All these goofy n*ggas aw shucks
Yo' b*tch staring ‘cause she star-struck
She know I do it venti like Starbucks, it feel better when it’s all us
This new money 9 AM, it got us all up
Comme des Garçons PLAY t-shirt, the Fear of God Chucks
Boy I’m wavy as Venice Beach wit' a small gust
My favorite gun is the .38 ‘cause it’s all trust
My feet planted like rhubarb, I move you like U-Haul
I’m nice in front of mics, Joe Dumars
I’m two miles, two laps, two blocks, two cars
Ahead of any place on the list you think you are
It’s a nuance, you just a cheaper version, that’s a coupon
Remember I was getting slept on like a futon
But now a n*gga only getting hotter like it's Tucson
The diamonds on my neck cool me down like it’s lukewarm
Look at me, I am the captain now
Without no cap or gown, this new SIG saw ya' homie and back him down
The handle ivory so I call that b*tch the mastodon
My mentality nine-seven, I’m Cappadonn'
Heard they praying on my downfall
Instead of battle me, n*ggas'd rather shadow me, they groundhogs
I skip past n*ggas, ground ball
I ain’t playing like I’m John Wall, they ain’t hear me like the sound off
[Interlude 1: Benny the Butcher & Conway The Machine]
I got you though, I got you
That boy in his f*cking zone
Yo, ay look

[Verse 2: Benny]
I just put a stash house around the palisades
Clothesline the brick like I’m Diamond Dallas Page
I was fronting a n*gga work and I was half his age
I ran around with nappy braids selling dog food, crack and 'caine
Now it’s matching chains, I’ll tell you how to stack your change
And triple, spend a little, never mix it with the cash you saved
I don’t like these n*ggas, I forget these rappers’ names
Guess bein' real don’t matter to 'em, since you can’t get that appraised
Got up from a hangover, and I got back to business
This between me and you, I done shot cats for listening
I bought lashes, fake asses, I bought contacts for b*tches
I need high stacks and contacts with contract extensions
Better cool that, I turn this to a new set
You f*ck n*ggas ain’t give me no advice, I could use yet
Who set the table, with eight-balls, like a pool set
Was stressing True, yes, now it’s VS’s on my crew neck
The strap mine, the homie just riding and tote it for me
Yeah, and he down to line you over this money
The plug need me to get rid of it, you know it’s ugly
That got my price cheap as the n*gga who sold it to me
They diamonds don’t hit like this, they whips not fast enough
Bring that b*tch around again, and I’ma end up tagging her
30-something for a joint, them numbers not adding up
You take it to the table and make triple when you bag it up
The Butcher, n*gga
[Interlude 2: Conway The Machine]
Yeah, look

[Verse 3: Conway The Machine]
I don’t know a n*gga that hate rap n*ggas more than me
‘Cause the n*ggas dissing is n*ggas that’s broke and 43
Type of n*ggas catch a case, don’t got the lawyer fee
Type to smile up in your face, ain’t got no loyalty
Remember n*ggas wouldn’t lend me no help
So I did it on my own, n*gga I built it myself
I ain’t gotta pay the shooters, I could spill you myself
Fendi the belt, matte black Bentley is stealth, wooh
Them bodies drop, they had no sympathy felt
My heart been empty ever since I had my injuries dealt
I got shot, I got hit in my helmet
But when water get too deep, you either drown or start swimming like Phelps, n*gga
You smell the lobster tail and shrimp when I belch
I ain’t f*ck with too many n*ggas, they ain’t real as myself
And I got this acquisition of wealth
Put so much fire on the streets it make the sole on your Timberlands melt, n*gga
I’m a n*gga you shouldn’t dare to try
I’m from Main Street where you cross Dope, the scary side
I stare in his eyes, I see fear inside
Diamond tennis necklace, 40 point is the canary size
Not bad for the guy who face paralyzed
From getting shot in his neck and the back of his head and nearly die
But as far as catalogs, you n*ggas can’t compare to mines
Pour the Henny on my bullet wounds, that’s how I sterilize
Watch me terrorize, I don’t follow rules
And I don’t respect the opinions of n*ggas with hollow jewels
Hollows in the tools, that’s how I gotta move
I got caught without it before, but sh*t, I’m not a fool
Bulk of gelato in my condo, I got two supermodels nude
I’ma f*ck 'em both, I ain’t gotta choose
After this project, I’m dropping one more I gotta prove
You see a Freshmen cover, me? I just see a lot of food
I see you n*ggas tryna take the formula and make it cornier, I’m on to ya'
Don’t make me call shorty up, he grip his .40 up
Shooting ya' corner up, send you for a ride wit' the coroner
Cake piling, spent my last two days counting
Invested in the real estate and made safe houses
Same block where I had a K wilding
I made thousands, I could stand on my bricks and make yay mountains
Open my garage doors and pull a Wraith out it
Puerto Rican b*tches love me like I’m J Balvin
Versace drawers, nah b*tch these ain’t Calvins
Militant mind, I’m the modern day Malcolm
I’m the n*gga that they doubted
I got great in my own lane, all these n*ggas now they lane crowding
And I ain’t even drop a album
But the flow polished like a n*gga on his eighth album, hah
On Dope Street, I used to move a O a day
You can’t take these chains, boy, my jewels don’t go away
You can’t name a crew that flow today
That’s f*cking with me, just think, Everybody Is F.O.O.D. was a throwaway
Everything I touch, this sh*t is classic
I call the plug in the traffic, and get a traffic
Already sold half it, before I ripped the plastic
Neck looking like I just went triple platinum
Quick with the action, your favorite rapper, I will slap him
And have his head spinning backwards, then spin a Backwoods
I’m shooting like Dame Lillard, I’m hitting baskets
I’m in the booth spitting gases, get your matches, n*gga
And you suckers knowing what’s up
You get a sh*tbag when I’m dumping low with the pump
Who the hardest in the streets, motherf*cker, you know it’s us
I ain’t bring New York back, I put Buffalo in the front
Motherf*cker
Machine, b*tch
[Outro: Benny the Butcher, Conway The Machine, & Rick Hyde]
Big f*cking Grisela, Big BSF, ha, goddamn
You know what’s up, n*gga, LA Leakers
Justin Credible
Sour Milk, what up, n*gga?
Man we west coasting right now, man
Nah, shout out to the guys
That sh*t was crazy
This n*gga just went bananas