Down Bad (Freestyle) lyrics

[Verse]
Revenge taste so damn good, had to lick my fingers
Tech calling like I'm Draymond, I'm in San Fran, this a new arena
I know n*ggas that was on tour selling white girl wit' a lil' accent, call it Dua Lipa
Accountants put accounts onshore, so when money talks, I need duolingo
b*tch! I'm on my high horse for the naysayers, I got god with me, I don't say prayers
Beat the odds, n*gga, wasn't guarding me, this a game changer
This creates a player, A&Rs tryna be Blueface, tell me rap first
Try to pay me way, way, way later, gotta up my cut, like a haymaker, n*gga
I'm one of them black folks, I got thick lips, b*tch, I'm lactose
But I still milk the f*cking game, like I'm Doja Cat, though
Told my n*ggas truth, try to reel him in, like a lasso
All this rap sh*t ain't the only hope, it's the last hope
sh*t is too far, you're just seeing it too close, gotta look at the macros, n*gga
Now it's like Ducktales, got the banknotes doing backstrokes, n*gga
I was like, "f*ck 12", when the plan clothes brought attack dogs with 'em
I see the task force setting trap doors, b*tch, I'm
Gil Scott, I'm the last poets, b*tch, I'm 2Pac with a passport callin' Castro, n*gga
If I had a kid, he'd prolly say, "f*ck 12", like, all the time
"Son, it's storytime, there was a boy named Korey Wise
Back when I had the backpack on me, rap n*ggas turned they back on me
Like For Your Eyez, n*ggas finally see they outta they league, like Mike Jordan with the 45
I'd probably be richer than Hov if I had a dime every time the lawyer tried
Or my father got caught in lies, and my mama was mortified
It was three boys and a solo mom, n*gga, two hands up to Holy God
n*gga, one mo'f*cking king came from soil rised, I'm immortalized
Old n*ggas can't f*ck with me, new n*ggas can't f*ck with me
You n*ggas got walked through the business, I ain't have that luxery
Raps hitting like a mo'f*cking rat trap, now you n*ggas stuck with me
None of this sh*t was luck (Hold up, hold up, I'ma go back to the last scheme)
I don't know if y'all know or not, y'all been writing nonsense
What you know about going home f*cking starving 'cause the dollar fries came out to a dollar, nine cents?
'Fore mama died, mama used to say all the time, "Don't worry, it's all in time"
So when you see me, don't ask me to f*cking freestyle, 'cause this is more than rhymes, n*gga, f*ck