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freak - 3rd ave. (ny) lyrics

[verse 1: mac]
i’ma bust a move like mike jack
stay tucked, lil n*gga, ’cause you might lack
stay pimpin’, two hoes in the hatchback
f*ck a duffel, put the gs in the knapsack

mac in the spot, say crackin’ the box
got the game on lock, put ’em on like socks
no roddy rich, put a n*gga in the box
go dummy with the drums, i got all the chops

all you do is talk, you ain’t really ’bout the action
i spit fire, get fly like a dragon
n*ggas know i’m the root, like latin
said you wanna get rich so i asked him

t.d., b.o.a., chase who you bank with?
said the bag is the only thing i’m chasin’
stars on the ceiling, beat it up in the sp*ceship
make a n*gga see the vision like lasik

first link, like a test, i’ma ace it
i’m too good for you b*tches, face it
soon as you get into the room, get naked
i’m a d*ckhead, my ego inflated
tryna link with stacy
she got a best friend named sasha
dark*skinned lil shorty named tracy
slim thick, and i heard she from ghana

so, all of you b*tches be basic
but my main shorty hotter than a sauna
i don’t slide on the block, don’t pop sh*t
but i’ma still give a lame n*gga trauma, ooo

[verse 2: jt atm]
i got a dozen bagels in my bank account
write a check to the jeweler with a blank amount
if you talk about hits, yea we crank ’em out
3rd ave this in this b*tch ain’t no faking now

all my homies are bad b*tches
all my homies got mad riches
surrounded by the bread like sandwiches
i always wrap it up like bandages
never free, i always got plans because

i get to the green, yea i get to the cheese
when it comes to the p*ssy, i say yes, please
f*ck a b*tch good, make her weak in the knees
yea i hit a bad b*tch and her baddie bestie
f*ck a scantron, can’t even test me
f*cking pope john, can’t even bless me
i move in the night like i’m a chess piece
tell her get out the room ’cause, shh, i’m resting
[verse 3: thai thai]
cole like bennett, handle my business
every week fashion week, i’m too fitted
i run from the bad b*tches, i’m too timid
i’m a go*getter, b*tch i’m gon get it

shawty ain’t tryna ride in yo rented
this a benz truck, the windows so tinted
this my new flow, the smooth, i invented
you cannot bite the style, just quit it

back it up, b*tch, never heard nothing like this
my sh*t so sick like i’m spitting a virus
f*ck with my clique ’cause u lookin’ to die, b*tch
my ho, a milf in a midlife crisis

make it make sense, wait make it make m’s
yeah, my b*tch bad, barbie would’ve thought i was ken
you better stop, drop, and roll when i pick up the pen
and if we f*ckin’ then i bet you never see me again, leugh

[verse 4: typeoh]
used to wear clothes that ain’t fit me
now i’m walking out the f*cking store rocking cross b’s
i heard i got a fan out in sydney
once we get a show in the oz give her box seats
like i hit an opp with a stick in the head
for the past six years i done picked up the pen
ever since then my money got big
bigger than the first pick in 87

where the hoes at, i’m trynna f*ck
my body on ice, a hockey puck
pulled a card with fate and drew luck
take a shot at me and i ain’t gon duck
duck, goose, i’m the one yo b*tch gon’ choose
3rd ave on the breaking news
pull up and we breaking rules, b*tch

- 3rd ave ny lyrics

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