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down bad (freestyle) - kemba lyrics

[verse]
revenge taste so d*mn good, had to l!ck my fingers
tech calling like i’m draymond, i’m in san fran, this a new arena
i know n*ggas that was on tour selling white girl wit’ a lil’ accent, call it dua lipa
accountants put accounts onshore, so when money talks, i need duolingo
b*tch! i’m on my high horse for the naysayers, i got god with me, i don’t say prayers
beat the odds, n*gga, wasn’t guarding me, this a game changer
this creates a player, a&rs tryna be blueface, tell me rap first
try to pay me way, way, way later, gotta up my cut, like a haymaker, n*gga
i’m one of them black folks, i got thick lips, b*tch, i’m lactose
but i still milk the f*cking game, like i’m doja cat, though
told my n*ggas truth, try to reel him in, like a lasso
all this rap sh*t ain’t the only hope, it’s the last hope
sh*t is too far, you’re just seeing it too close, gotta look at the macros, n*gga
now it’s like ducktales, got the banknotes doing backstrokes, n*gga
i was like, “f*ck 12”, when the plan clothes brought attack dogs with ’em
i see the task force setting trap doors, b*tch, i’m
gil scott, i’m the last poets, b*tch, i’m 2pac with a passport callin’ castro, n*gga
if i had a kid, he’d prolly say, “f*ck 12”, like, all the time
“son, it’s storytime, there was a boy named korey wise
back when i had the backpack on me, rap n*ggas turned they back on me
like for your eyez, n*ggas finally see they outta they league, like mike jordan with the 45
i’d probably be richer than hov if i had a dime every time the lawyer tried
or my father got caught in lies, and my mama was mortified
it was three boys and a solo mom, n*gga, two hands up to holy god
n*gga, one mo’f*cking king came from soil rised, i’m immortalized
old n*ggas can’t f*ck with me, new n*ggas can’t f*ck with me
you n*ggas got walked through the business, i ain’t have that luxery
raps hitting like a mo’f*cking rat trap, now you n*ggas stuck with me
none of this sh*t was luck (hold up, hold up, i’ma go back to the last scheme)
i don’t know if y’all know or not, y’all been writing nonsense
what you know about going home f*cking starving ’cause the dollar fries came out to a dollar, nine cents?
‘fore mama died, mama used to say all the time, “don’t worry, it’s all in time”
so when you see me, don’t ask me to f*cking freestyle, ’cause this is more than rhymes, n*gga, f*ck

[outro]
‘countants put accounts onshore, so when money talks, i need duolingo, n*gga
f*ck!
man, [?] really the [?] out here, it’s crazy

- kemba lyrics

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