Polo G – LA Leakers Freestyle Lyrics
We back once again
R.I.P. DMX
Uh, uh, uh
One of the newer reasons they gon’ speak on pain
When they spit, feel like a therapist
I’ve taught these lil’ niggas how to vent
They get nominated for shit like I don’t spazz on every verse
Real soldier tryna let the world know that I was first
They call me Capalot ’cause I’ma bug, I’m known to go berserk
Lotta anger in me, it’s hard to control it when you hurt
.762s out the chopper, fold ’em like a shirt
They ain’t tryna hit the crib, them demons on there when they lurk
90’s baby, so I come from all the rollers and them churches
Seen my uncle Mike servin’ Coca-Cola, whippin’ work
Man, R.I.P. Durb, I know he would want me on this beat
Get what I deserve, lately, I been goin’ on the street
Ain’t a homeless nigga on the curb hungrier than me
Gon’ pass the gang to my son like we Romeo and P
All this pill-poppin’ kept them demons on me in my sleep
Still standin’ ten toes, they put my homies underneath
You can go out, guns blazin’, no indictments in the streets
Got a chance to decide, you either Tony or you Meech
The rappers from my city got a choice to either die or move
From the ‘Raq to L.A., to take a L, I refuse
Same house as Eazy-E, young nigga with a attitude
Book and street smart, I was trappin’ after school
Think he hard-bodied, .40 show him he a fragile dude
Who the fuck told you just to win that you gotta lose?
‘Cause I ain’t took a loss yet, strapped up, we all set
Kill one of the killers, get back, what we call that?
I was in the trenches right before this shit was all rap
So when I signed a deal, it was hard for me to fall back
Brent to send off hits, a bonus if you get ’em all whacked
My shooters on business, and they uniforms all black
Bullets hit his collar, I’m coolin’ with my shottas
They murderin’ for dollars, he would do this shit for nada
Bulletproof the ‘Burban, got me feelin’ like Obama
Married to the game, fuck the student, I’m a scholar
Snakes at my back door, I’m ten steps ahead of you
Come through, tap dancin’ on your block, that’s what my steppers do
Pump the kick and leave, his body’s floatin’ like a edible
So playin’ with the gang, that ain’t smart, that’s what I’m tellin’ you
They’ll tear your shit up like tornadoes if I tell ’em, “Spin”
Good in any city, telly’s only time I’m checkin’ in
Pop out, get your club lit, and we brought them weapons in
And I’m with them thugs, bitch, a bunch of disrespectful men
If this FN get to blowin’, you ain’t catchin’ wind
‘Posed to be his dawg, shit got real, nigga left his friend
They don’t wanna see me, it don’t matter who you recommend
Ballin’, they can’t stop me, think they coach gon’ need a better plan
Uh, I think they coach gon’ need a better plan
What I say, look, uh, uh, uh
Stop, shop, out the pound, rollin’ up opps
Blow, score, that’s how Too Turnt Gang roll
On foenem
Ayy, look, look, I really stayed in the same house as Eazy-E in Calabasas
And it’s—, and it’s crazy to me ’cause I don’t fuck with the police, either
On foenem
Hall of Fame, Hall of Fame
