paroles de chanson Rhymes Stock (Freestyle) - FG

Black Ink
Okay let's make it, oh faggot
The shit that I'm sayin'
It's what called bomb packet
I hit you with a tennis racket
Y'all my enemies so lick my baguette
Oh wait, no cuts
Suck my dick motherfucking cunts (Rrt)
No tricks, I'm about to diss on this record some kids
Clips in and shoot, the crow spected
I have to dig a tomb everyday, I got big arms
I'm the one who spits better in that shit
So bitchy Spxdey, you are not even the second (Haha)
No third spot for you, I'm out your sight
I hate to work with retards
My black shirt has more talent than you!
Nah wait, I'm just kidding (Haha)
No, I don't (Aah shit)
I went solo, maybe Nov-o-A
Still fantasizing about us doing homo stuff
Come on, I'm just playing with words
The animal skips them
So lyrical my pen exploded
My motto is... I forgot, oh God
The ol' Italian accent is back
The shop went sold out 'cause I bought all the rhymes stock
Price up the new hot, shall I go further?
No surrender, I fought 'till my brain got burnout
No support since I was in the label
I ain't givin' a shit, so not rebel
Sluts comin' up on my cock
But I don't want the dickriding shit tho
All I know is they lost this shot, and-
Ahh fuck this