Okay, bust a freestyle, all right hold up, I say…

I come through in a white jacket in an African snapback
Niggas sleep on me like a cat nap
Till I put them cats in a napsack (zip ’em up)
Flap jack, that mean we put the crack in the pan for cake
Now we trappin’ with ASCAP
No more traffickin’ that pack puttin’ crack in the ass crack
We was running with them rocks like Joey
Chasin’ Drake fans in a hatchback
Now its extravagant rappin’ hazardous HAZMAT
And treatin’ our history like Cam Newton we scramblin’ past that
Yeah, I bring the heavens down to show you frail as fuck
This Bizarro world now ’cause what the hell is up?
If you hella suck I’ma shell him up
Take you down with eagles and choppers like a flock of birds landing on top of a helicopter
And got the propeller stuck
It’s poultry salad
When you yellin’ “He won’t even let us duck!”
Rock paper scissors I go hard when the check is cut
You cocksuckers could tell us what?
You so busy inhaling nut you could spit on a sperm bank and help impregnate seven sluts
Meanwhile I pull the Mac out and blow your back out
See that was a 90’s bar
The era of Jerry Stackhouse
This the Lebron Curry era
I’m going the Mike Jack route, when he was bleachin’ his skin
‘Cause for the cream, I’m ready to black out
Speaking of bleach
You should sit in them old bleachers while we reachin’ our goals, we goal reachers that’s on
Jesus with no preachers
These assholes are so scared to face, the ski mask flow
Why you think half my songs ain’t got no features?
They shook to death
Like one song their life is over
Like the days of million dollar videos they hype is over
Like, “Peace nice to know ya!”
My iron mic persona split the wigs of dons and kings and fuck that fight promoter
I saw you endorsing Trump, sell-out
I’m eating chicken and lasagna (why’s that?)
Why chicken and lasagna?
‘Cause when I hit you with the llama
You was sittin’ in the front room, and landed in the kitchen with your Mama, who was cookin’ chicken and lasagna
I eat your food nigga, with a crazy I’ll scheme
Navy Seal team, I sit you with Osama
Shadyville King bitch I’m with the drama
I ain’t with all them silly rhymes
I’m into loading a Mac milli a million times
I’m into spittin’ a gazillion lines about the different times I committed crimes
I’m into being a menace I’m into finishing innocent lyricists
Even if that nigga is in his prime
I’m into showing that nigga the finish line
I’m into getting up into his mind
With the illest sentences invented from the realest lyricist still living a living legend I’m still getting mine
On this independent grind, COB!