BBC Radio 1Xtra Freestyle lyrics

[Verse 1]
I never gave a f*ck
I'll f*ck your b*tch, she give it all, uh
I got the- [?]
Run up on me then I hit them all, uh
Gigolo, gigolo, gigolo, uh
She got my di*k, she gon' jiggle it, uh
I'm on the top, I'm on the top
Getting top from a b*tch yelling, piglet, uh
Look at the way that I swag, uh
I got Gucci on my bag, uh
I ain't lookin' at the tags
Bad b*tch, I hit it from the back, uh
I'm in Dior, spend a rack, uh
Maybe a rack on a rack, uh
Where I'm from, I say, "I'm from Chiraq", uh
Run up on me, them pistols'll clap, uh, yeah

[Verse 2]
That's my flow
Look at that girl, that's yo' ho
Look at her style, she all gold
She wanna f*ck, I said no
I ain't even wanna hit her
But I may go ahead and f*ck her sister
Pull up on the scene, choppa' spinnin' like a twister
Goddamn, goddamn, huh, yeah
That's how J kill it, uh
Run up on me, I kill it, uh
Fry him, he in a skillet, uh
All these-
I feel it
[Verse 3]
Back end, f*ckin' a b*tch from the back end
Like eggs, get it crackin'
Gun on me, I ain't lackin'
Before the ****
Win a race like first place
Run it back, so cold like relay
Scratch, scratch on a b*tch, no DJ, uh
Boy, I swipe pre-paids, nah
I spray black cards, huh, ayy
With no delay, huh
My flow crazy, huh
Doped up like the 80's, huh
Big guns like the navy
Rock-a-by with the choppa' like babies, huh, yeah

[Verse 4]
Man, I could really talk some sh*t on this one
Pull the trues down, I could take a sh*t on this one
I feel like a baller, set a pick on this one
She wanna fan, she gon' take a pic on this one
Take a picture sitting on my di*k, huh
Hit the filters up to make sure that it's fixed
Make it look big, huh
She gon' dance like an Irish Jig, huh, ayy
I'm not a rabbit but these tricks not for little kids, huh
I'm a master rapper, uh
'Matter fact, I'm probably with a torch and a b*tch burning down tabernacles
I get the last laugh
I'm bombin' like Baghdad
If that b*tch swallow my kids
Do that make me a bad dad?, uh
I'm an ass, lad
I'm an as*h*le with cash-flow, huh
Yo' girl f*ckin', that b*tch bashful
She got her hands in the air listenin' Beyoncé
"Single ladies over here", that's what I say
[Verse 5]
Early to the party
Then again, I'm fashionably late off the molly
Run a train on yo' b*tch
That's a stylish ass trolly
Out Dior, spend a couple pounds, n*gga try me
Did I say, "A couple pounds"?
I meant a couple thousand
Money in my pocket, could build a platinum fountain
And if I pull up with security
That's my .40
Cause never in my life have i needed bouncers
I been so, "f*ck this" and so, "f*ck that'
My b*tch talks up it, say, "Get the f*ck back"
I feel like a crackhead hiding- woah
I feel like a crackhead hiding work how I spit crack
I got so much drive, if I stop it, you catchin' whiplash
I hit the strip club
Throw a couple bands on yo' b*tch ass
I was getting cash ever since I was a youngin'
I feel like Drake and Future, ballin'
Jumpman, Jumpman, Jumpman
Pull up on me, get to bussin'
Choppa on me with combustion
My word is my weapon
So is my [?] and I got that from the West end
With a bad b*tch, she bussin'
And he best friend more open than a book, uh
She f*cked my cousin, I ain't even have to look, uh
Ain't talkin' boxing, I ain't gotta throw a hook
I freestyle crazy, kinda like an open book
That's probably cause when I was little I was reading books, uh
[Verse 6]
See, now I'm smarter
Got my arm in the rim
I'm ballin' like Vince Carter
Always ball like a starter
At yo' head like a barber
Bombin' hard, Pearl Harbor
Try me if you want it
You get smoked like a Backwood full of marijuana

[Outro]
Ain't no weed getting saved around me
That b*tch f*ck for free
That sh*t a guarantee
I'm in London, so I tell her she not my cup of tea
Talkin' dumb-