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get rich or die tryin' - frankie krupnik lyrics

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(it’s big frank b*tch)
eh yo b*tch, it’s frank krupnik
beer gut but legs toothpicks
they talk a lot of game on ig but never do sh*t
bow and arrow to your heart, no cupid
been a fan of the art before jay dropped the blueprint
italiano, young johnny boy soprano
droppin knowledge on your heads like a muaf*ckin anvil
spit fire, got dynamite stick lips
slap you in your b*tch tits for tryin to talk sh*t kid
used to be a misfit, drunk and acting foolish
so cold in the booth the mic was turning kind of bluish
who dis? it’s the independent underdog
grew my beard out and started looking like the son of god
they said “you don’t really look like a rapper man”
well that’s good cause i ain’t into f*ckin fashion trends
no red bottoms, my flow keeps their head’s bobbin
stеady droppin bombs dogg, cause failures not an option (nahh)
goofy rappers on my timеline, like curt jackson i’ma get rich or die tryin
and when i rhyme, feels like i’m flyin through the atmosphere
disintegrate the beat, nothing but a pile of ashes here
my eyebrows are long and squirrely like a rats nest
going in on the these beats like a gyno at a pap test
play the xylophone with a mumble rappers bones
left em in a place that wasn’t visible to drones
the rap game is full of freaks with no lyrics
that are so gone off pills when they speak you can’t hear it
like, excuse me sir, can you speak up your mumbling
i kick flows like karate dojos, i’m bubbling
if you don’t know the name, let’s get acquainted
over 6 milli streams and i started from the bas*m*nt

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