Logic, Fat Trel, ADÉ, Big Lenbo and C Dot Castro - Gaithersburg Freestyle

Yo, they call me DJBossPlayer (suicide my doors, fuckin' all these hoes)
The hottest DJ in College Park history (all my chains, they glow, killin' all these shows, yeah)
Right now, I'm bringin' you the chosen one
Out of Gaithersburg, Maryland (suicide my doors, fuckin' all these hoes)
Eighteen projects over ten years (all my chains, they glow, killin' all these shows, yeah)
We're takin' it back to the basement (suicide my doors, fuckin' all these hoes)
Big Lenbo, C Dot Castro (all my chains, they glow, killin' all these shows, yeah)
The one and only 6ix (suicide my doors)
And the motherfuckin' G.O.A.T., Logic (fuckin' all these hoes, all my chains, they glow)
It's 2011, y'all (killin' all these shows, yeah)

Back to the beats, back to the streets, back with the heat
Motherfucker don't, back to the, back to the-
Back to the beats, back to the streets, back with the heat
Motherfucker don't rap, but discrete
I pack heat, drop bars at U Street
Float like a genie and I'm talkin' bars in Bohemian
Bitches are here to be screamin', Bobby in the basement, dreamin'
Me and my homies, we schemin', tryna get a dollar, we fiendin', ah
I'm just tryna get it for the EBT, bitch, real niggas never switch
I run the game, like a Switch, used to bus tables, just for the tips
Now these bitches beggin' me for the tip of my dick
Watch how the punchline roll over the kick
I got more stories than Slim, I got more stories than Rick
Motherfucker, take your-

Pick me out of that lineup
Did the crime, yeah, now my time's up
Got out the box and I got in my bag
Now all of these bad bitches try and fuck
'Cause I'm pullin' up in the, "What the fuck is that?"
Comin' from where I'm from, gotta tuck the strap
Nuck, if you buck, if you bust, I'm bustin' back
No, I don't trust enough, 'cause my love is tapped
Say that she want it to last, good luck with that
Bitch, I just want the rasp, can't text you back
'Cause my thumbs are too numb, I've been thumbin' through cash
You niggas is bums, you rummage through trash
Throw a couple ones in your cup, then I dash
I'm one of one, but not the one that you wanna try to run up
Run up and I get you done up
When the summer come, you know I'ma sun up
Swear on my son and son, just for the come-up
Need another lump, been fuckin' these blunts up
Looked at the gun, just for fuckin' my fun up
Pumpin' your guns, motherfucker, just shut up

Who fuckin' with that? I'm ready to bat
All about peace, so I stay with a gat
I stay strapped, but not for no money, I'm takin' it back
No takin' it from me, you know it's a fact
I stay with the honeys up in that Impala, you wanna just holler
I stay with the bread, I stay with the toast
You motherfuckers out here doin' the most
We do it for real, you front for the post (yeah)
Y'all niggas is gross

Man, fuck all that other shit that nigga talkin' 'bout (talkin' 'bout)
Don't try to catch me in Vic, I'ma chalk 'em out (blaow)
Beefin' is beefin', it ain't shit to talk about
I want the smoke, you want the smoke (smoke)
I got a hundred-round drum in the chop'
And this shit get to rockin' when I get the load (brr)
I might just run up a hundred
And book me a nigga and really pull up to his show (go)
You niggas must be mistaken
The fuck is you takin', you thinkin' 'bout robbin' me? No (bitch, no)
I'm with my youngins and we gettin' money (money)
They shoot, it mean nothin', I got it, you want it (phew)
It's comin' in bricks
Smokin' three-hundred to ship, I got your house on my wrist (phew)
I'm really rich, so I might bounce in a minute (minute)
She call me, "Babe" and I'm in it (in it)
I really get it, all of this money I'm spendin'
I act like this shit ain't no limit (whoa)
Bitch, I'm with the gang, I'm all over guys (guys)
Just look in my eyes, you see that I'm high (high)
I'm rollin' with slime (slime), you might see a .9 (.9)
I really come put this fact shit on your mind
The shit that I'm drinkin', three-hundred a line
But you gotta suck it, you not even tryin' (muah)
Meet me in a second, I'm pressin' for time
Hold up, slutty boy gon' go die, bitch (yeah, hmm)

Who real as they come? (Who real as they come?)
Been here a minute, but still isn't done
Estate won't be finishin' killin' the rhyme
Can't handle my business, my feelings are done
Came out the mud, so the ceilin' is nothin'
3-0-1, where I'm from
Make a wrong turn, get killed with the pon
Young ADÉ, they know my name, in 2011, had feelin' the front
Now I'm in back of the back
My hat to the back, which other half is some Yak
She throwin' it back like Manning, I'm plannin' on givin' her back
Now how you gon' act? Do it too big, can't minimize that
I live in iMacs, I'm gettin' my scratch
Life is a bitch, make her sit in my lap, I finished my rap

Written by:
Arjun Ivatury, Christopher Julian Castro, Eugene Tsai, Leon Ressalam, Martrel Reeves, Phil Ade, Sir Robert Bryson Hall II

Publisher:
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.

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