I’m A Boss (Freestyle) lyrics

[Intro]
L’s
(Jahlil Beats Holla At Me)

[Verse 1: Lil Herb]

Lil Herbie i'm No Limit
Hit the strip with my doors tinted
On 28’s I'm EBK, f*ck the Mob, f*ck the Lake
I see Juvie slam the rakes, I see shoota blam the 8
That's word to God no county floor
My word is bond, That's word to Shawn
I grind for mine I ride for mine
Don't ride for yours I'm in this b*tch
No Limit sh*t, I been the sh*t
Don’t leave the sh*t, don't need a b*tch
Just tell her lies and feed her di*k
No Limit hoe, pull up in a benz or a lambo
With the black rims and the tan doors
Try to rob me I know Rambo
When the can blow, turn a man ghost
Make his ass float That's some real sh*t
Get your steel quick, you don't feel me
n*gga feel this, Them banana clips
They'll peel sh*t If he didn't know
Put his info on the window
Have Project get his kinfolk
Make his brains fly he a Scantron
This for Heron, I'm a real n*gga
You a tampon (pus*y), Throw the L’s up
Throw your sets up
Shoutout big Buckz yeah he next up
Let the .40 go Blow his chest up Closed casket
Leave him messed up
I aim, bang, from the neck up
You see red stuff that ain't ketchup
Better catch up, cause I'm burning y'all I'm way too hot
I'm going in I ain't gone stop
Tell yo b*tch to give me top
My flow is cold the 8 is not
Them bags look like tater tots
No Limit the gang
Put that thang to his brain
.45 c*cked back keep them lames in they lane
Hit a stain for his chain
Hit the club in a benz, then leave the lot in a Range
I'm on top of the game, I do not f*ck with lames
You get popped for the guap, leave yo top re-arranged
My n*gga Greg laid back but with that MAC he'll change
Leave a n*gga holed up
Smoking on that OG stuff
Rolling stogies in a Dutch
When it get close we throw the duff'
Yeah I'm all about that cash cream
Sell a n*gga bad dreams
A Lotta sh*t be on my mind
Going broke the last thing
I go broke, you get poked
You don't go, you get smoked
.44 to the throat, M.O.B f*ck a hoe
Let her know, In the door
Crazy James got semis with him
60 shots, 50 hit him
This ain't rap we be drilling
In them traps making killings
Competition I don't feel 'em
Sending threats, I don't fear 'em
I'm tired of talking Bibby get em
[Verse 2: Lil Bibby]

Now these n*ggas ain’t eating man y’all need to get y’all weight up
I swear i’m so far ahead they tellin me to wait up
I be tryna make bucks tryna get my cake up
Married to the cash me and her will never break up
Only spit that real sh*t allergic to the fake stuff
Catch me on the 9 get outta line get ya face done
Sleeping on the kid tell Ken turn the bass up
On my Freddy Krueger sh*t these n*ggas better wake up
Racks in these streets attacking these beats
And my broski, Broski tell me “Dont lack in these streets”
n*ggas act tough and get whacked in these streets
My boy Herb go crazy man relax in these streets
This ain’t a game boy it’s more than that
At your door with the choppa like you ordered that
I keep the heat like them Florida Cats
My n*ggas throw bullets like a quarterback
And these boys ain't ready clips long as machetes
2012 Kelly same color as the chevy
28 inches call that sh*t February
Man these n*ggas act like b*tches call they ass Tyler Perry
Keep the Hammer Like Madea, See me Countin Money
Don’t get no idea cause u can get killed
All my n*ggas real and your b*tch probably will
Got ya girl off the pill now she busting like my steel