lord sko "on the radar" freestyle - lord sko lyrics
[intro]
yeah yeah
yo uptown what the f*ck going on man
on the radar whats good
[verse]
yeah, tremendous empty to cover my plate
another busy week and this we’ll spend it up by the lake
i remember friday nights, we copping [???]
and take the train to fredric douglass, while i clutch on the blade
i’m out for p*ssy motherf*cks, who’ve been ducking the fade
wallabees over my toes, i really snuff em’ this way
front and center, tryna be the iron man of the competition
60 minutes out the phat farm like i’m russеl simmons
won the match for any brand like i’m bret hart
got thе smith and wesson boot camp if you get smart
no keys for the new whip, only press start
these old trees got new sh*t in a fresh jar
my og told me never let the pressure up
and always keep a weapon for protection in the denim tucked
my bread and b*tter is soliloquys so let him talk
i’m tryna need a bigger boat without the heavy shark
i’m wearing leather when it’s 70 like i’m fonzarelli
c*cky walking through your territory in an armored pelle
brought armageddon, what y’all motherf*ckers thought already
trying to keep this sh*t sincere like i’m nas and belly
and i’ll put all my sins here hoping god protect me
but if not guess i do it on my own then
lot of new money, ain’t been speaking to my old friends [?]
causin’ havoc, rocking starter jacket through the cold winds
dope syringes littered in neighborhoods over distance
i’m messy snipes, if you liking the mic to motion pictures [?]
i’m so specific, writing my life with a close commitment
that i move the pen so commotive to give it motion sickness
yeah
and i ain’t done even man i’m just letting y’all take that in
yeah
the f*ck is good, uh
last night i fell asleep in velor
remember sneaking out to f*ck with hoes, was creaking the door
lot of people see the vision, they ain’t believe it before
but all these rappers broke, so imma have to keep it in store
my coochie sweater got me looking like some eastern decore [?]
so i could really have your b*tches, what they needed to floor
keeping it raw, your ego seem to need the applause
i’d rather clap my hand into your head, you seeing these stars, p*ssy
yeah, just copped the quarter pound from oregon
smoking on exotic, while your pockets looking more thin
i’m by the court sitting like a sports critic
the king of new york boat is cash flow, magic whole digits [?]
yeah, y’all heard the kid could rap though, but he won’t spit it
invoke spirits through my pen like it’s ghost written
rocking g size 40 homies think they don’t fit em’
ain’t no kidding, but rappers love to joke a lot
i’ll have my brody spray you clowns and turn your shirt to polka dot
out on the corner with it, like i’m slinging potent rock
my ma still tell me that she hope i stop with smoking pot
but still can find a dub in my pocket that also hold a knot
[outro]
yeah
lord what’s good baby
{peace and ????} whats up
yeah, i’m f*cking up right now man
but i just k!lled that
i know it
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