Say What’s Ill – Tory Lanez

If you could put your eyesight through my eye view
Swear you’d see it shorter than a shorty who’s 5″2′
High cool palms through this paper I write through
‘Bout that “Real Love” that a Mary J. Blige do
I do things for shorties who’s eyes blue
But her light skin red like Piru
And damn, I’m feeling like a plane
I’m just looking for a air-head shorty to fly through
And I sky through whips like a crash dummy
You cats funny, this rapping is my dad sonny
Lost the mother years back, don’t ask money
Niggas who got religious will still blast for me
I’m back like fiends for the drug money
You dumb funny fuckers fronting like thugs buddy
Anyone with a flag can be a blood, but he won’t be a blood when it comes to the sun dummy
Asking women, “Why your man counting ones honey?”
Without Wayne, he’s still dealing with young money
And I been looking for a girl, so you can take three and lose two and still wouldn’t be the one for me
I never wished for niggas to get it intertwined
The money 360°, even sitting in a line
I realize none of these niggas is friends of mine
Mel Gibson ain’t the only nigga catching signs
You gotta understand I’m in a different mind
I’m Vince Carter 2x, I’m in a different prime
I got my fork and my knife like it’s dinner time
Taking niggas greens like trees in the winter time
I feel lost with this pen of mine
I’m just talking, I ain’t even begin to rhyme
I’m burning up rappers like [?]
Like a pimp at a strip club, you can get behind
Feel your mind change, in this diaphragm
It’s all mind games, It’s part of the diagram
And I sit back and watch time change
My frame cool in a room full of five lames
Mr. Nine chain wearing round my neck piece
SB fans in the winter with the fresh fleece
I’m X streets, [?] best be
In and out the slot like a USB
Crew freshly dressed [?]
Watch your M-A-N-V-M-E
But I can bring that fly shit right back
Make a broad say I’m bad like Mike Jack
Type of rappers wanna lie while I write facts
Sleeping on niggas, PJs and a night cap
You see, I’m cold as an ice rack
But I’m fresh out the mouth like a nice jab
I heard your pipe rap, Family Guy
I ain’t sharp, one shot your brain marrow fly
But I can burn you mans alive
You faker than a human disguise
Just take it how two mans collide
I shine, I can take the sun from the South and leave Houston deprived
But, Houston, we got a P-R-oblem
Whether you are Batman or Robin
[?] in a room, a bafoon or a goon or a goblin
You are nothing but a joker in the city of Gotham
I feel I was tossed in this mix off
Shit got me puzzled like a jigsaw, shit, boy
We living it all like it’s pish posh
But I’m feeling like a block, like Chris Bosh
To see succession or beat depression and leave recession
I got devilish style, I need to see the Reverend
I need a blessing to leave a lesson, to key in testing
‘Cause I’m professional, born in a seminal
If I’m the envelope, you niggas the centerfold
I’m in heaven still tryna dodge the men below
I’m telling every girl that we can’t elope
States boy getting peeled like antelope
And we ain’t on the same level, the same stage
Still Fly like Drake, but we ain’t on the same page
As far as the future sees
Welcome to the future, T.O

Welcome to the mixtape
www.pillowlyrics.com
error419786
fb-share-icon497975
Tweet 88k
fb-share-icon20