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lyrical sh*t freestyle - kid kwazii lyrics

yea, they be sleepin’ on kwazii
alright
alright
microphone check 1, 2
what is this?
kid run the district
diss me you’re dismissed
i spit the gift
you b*tches missed christmas
wishlist make my wrist glimpse
so exquiste
extensive movin’ clip
with your b*tch
on some pimp sh*t
her n*gga in my business
feeling like a split fist
i’m misfit like soulja boy tees on a midget
bet she, play with my six inch stiffness like a stick shift
all jokes aside who rise (?)
yes i’m
flying high in the sky like i an i
but my (?) will give me permanent cryanide
sly’d the ny’s but raps get cyanide
would you slimе for a dime?
is it worth your life?
if it’s worth the pricе i’d go to church and lie
merkin’ purses, sn*tch a purse, birkin crime
i’m (?)
certain i’m not purgin’ rhyme
this curse is mine to make every verse in line
just worse than mines
an i’m spitting cursive rhymes
reverse in time
‘cause if i was the first (?)
you first to die
i just put the he*rs* in drive
and that a wrap the a turban on a persian guy
i’ve earned the right
your n*gga rock a shirt and tie
i’m burning mics
suburban and swervin’ right
sermon urgency in these verbs i type
your (?) wife told me she wanna hurt tonight
she look thirsty, i won’t, but this bourbon might
turn the lights out and then i’m servin’ pipe
she put her hand on my hips while i’m workin’ like
b*tch please keep your hands off the merchandise
i’m a… neat ass n*gga i beat fighters
got to chopstick like chun*li but this ain’t street fighter
leave my nut in her mouth like she bleached her t**th whiter
capiche? a beast writer
these treeshes need leashes
act sweet as reeses
keisha want pieces
tote the hole piece cause keisha need jesus
she think i’m f*cked up b*tt heads like beavis
cave a n*gga skull in tell his forehead look deep dish
stump a n*gga out in white forces leave creases
i’ve been here for a minute wit’ sinnin’ women
i’m limitless, limit this and you’re finished and that’s a givin’
these critics they whippin’ civics
i seen your digits diminish
(?) turn to stitches
i’m spinnin’ them like a pivot
i gave her this bbd while i f*cked her to michael bivins
i’m slippin’ in subliminal criminal messages in it to win it
i seen the harder n*ggas fall like (?)
many men claiming they did it but innocent
sweet as cinnamon
villainess how i’m living and cutting n*ggas like ribbons
rockin’ christian dior, true religion
but i’m sinning’
d*mn i got the hands in her panties while at her family table passin’ the cranberry sauce to her grand auntie
if she wrap her legs around me when i nut
imma clap heat
check my rap sheet
i stack cheese and i pack meat
n*gga f*ck a plan b
i wait ’til the b*tch start showing then gut check the hoe ‘cause i’m manly
can he, kick it? yes i can and i’m fancy
you n*ggas savin’ hoes i made the rows like i’m stan lee
overall i’m over y’all bet you can understand me
she wanna be a singer, grip my d*ck like a grammy
i can turn you into brandy if you got a fat f*nny
and i package (?) built like a ham sammy
i’m a x man but ain’t nothing bout it uncanny
i call her when i’m h*rny and she call me mac daddy
but i left her on her own so i call her black annie
i was almost broke once
then i woke up
ion even break bread
i just pour cups
i was almost jealous once
then a saw clearer
realized it was me and stepped away from the mirror

- kid kwazii lyrics

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