M.I.M.E - Geechie Freestyle

This shit larger than rap
The city and all the niggas that came with me
Got it all on my back
And I'm calling it cap
How you move all them bows on the road
But still don't got no shows outside of the Cak?
Ya cheerleaders be so loud in the back
But ain't enough bars in your raps
And all the fake love I can't go for it
Going nowhere fast and ya yes men chauffeuring
How you put the cash first
But don't got nothing to show for it?
Maybe the bread ain't as long as they say
They be all brudda brudda but we hardly relate
And you hardly a great
Been rapping since 96' ain't drop one hit
My nigga retirement is probably safe
Best nigga in it no time for debate
And that include West Ashley and down to to 'Phate
You might smile in my face
But you still reside on a plate
And all of you niggas my sons
Parental rights signed 'em away
'Cuz I don't know who raised you niggas
Sunday morning service couldn't save you niggas
That shit still tear me apart
Gave you niggas a head start
And you turned your back on God
Now I want everything back that I gave you niggas
Blessings on top of blessings
We don't take losses, the only L I ever took was a lesson
And my name hold weight
I'm like first in every segment
So I can't settle for second place or the second guessing
Get a lil flavor, now they Hollywood
Fake hugs and love, niggas play like it's all good
They act better than TV
Throw daps when they see me
Sneak dissing discreetly, I put it together neatly
A different nigga completely
My presence make em uneasy
I don't got no ops they joined cuz they couldn't beat me
Heads down when they see me
I got this shit set on easy
Man I'm so far gone Mr. Fantastic couldn't reach me
Your bitch hit me weekly to talk to a nigga sweetly
Hoping I'll swing by and go in that pussy deeply
I'll do a nigga greasy and ion hesitate briefly
In this life of sin I'm just praying our father keep me
I'm the big boss ain't shit little about it
And the list of niggas calling themselves OGs is a little to crowded
Or maybe I'm just a little to jaded
Three blunts a row now, I'm probably just a little too faded
This for the time that they hated
Success on the way I can taste it
Hands in the air when they play it
Mama look what you created
Became a monster and did without a sponsor
I got a lil aim, but them guns bigger than Contra

Written by:
Marshall Drayton

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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