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ransom freestyle - king los lyrics

[verse 1]
aight i’m on ’em like cl!ck clock, red dot
one flinch, fifth pop, head shot
rap is mine, hip-hop, headlock
time is money, tick tock, bread drop
red drop top down while she top me off
cause i make the paper double like i’m running copies off
keep running circles around rappers and i’ll be signed
but i’ll be dammed if it ain’t looking like a audi sign
f-ck it pop some bottles off its party time
my flow over n-ggas heads like an arby’s sign
where they do that at?
i’m from where they doin’ it at
i’m prob’ly up in gucci coppin’ everything you pointed at
wrapping rubber bands around knots on n-ggas
so your b-tch follow me when she not on twitter
you know i keep a chick or two
just trying to bring a chick or more
known to take three chicks and put ’em in a figure four
boy, you can see the game through this artist’s eyes
i push a yellow school bus i got r-t-rded drive
i’m from the bottom boy, i don’t give two f-cks
broke up with my b-tch and all i needed was my toothbrush
give me some polo v-necks and some new chucks
and i can make a couple hundred thousand out of two bucks
little kids screaming, “los bring the roof back!”
and when it disappear they screaming, “los bring the roof back!”
i’ll have your ho parting thighs in my new v
i had your whole starting five in the 2-3
i’ll b-tch your starters and make them start to b-tch
i’ll bench ya starters and make you start your bench
n-gga i start the bentley and garage the six
hook up with two broads around five and menage at six
5..4..3,2, uno
clique push weight like we do sumo
wrestling, no question, los flexing, don’t test him
y’all n-ggas got, no b-tches, no bottles, no section
and i ain’t got no pity, no sorrow, no remorse
i’m married to the mothaf-cking money, no divorce
she morse, she dripping, she wet, she c-mming
she told her girlfriend she said, “next time, she coming!”
a-long cause i make her c-m a long time
’til it sounds like she’s humming a song of mine
when a ace on the table, jokers get they queen took
beat her with the dope d-ck, leave her with the fiend look
drop-top mazi’s on asanti’s that’s a mean look
three-quarter-sleeve gucci b-tton down, clean look
riding with a redbone, look the way her team look
so you better bet it’s goin’ down like a kareem hook
yeah i want the milli-ons and not the one that dream took
point three, ghetto dope b-tch i let the thing cook, uh…

- king los lyrics

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