Luh Tyler Flow (Freestyle) lyrics

[Chorus]
They ain't throw your boy no bands, I had to run my own up
You ain't talkin' bout no bag, I won't even pick the phone up
Yeah, this lil' b*tch love the kid, but I don't even want her
Young n*gga, kid, this sh*t too real, I ain't even write this song up
I been breakin' b*tches' hearts, my n*ggas in here Chromed up
Got your b*tch down on her knees, she in here givin' dome up
n*gga, you got lil' boy pape', but all my pockets grown up
And my wrist the frozest, and my b*tch the coldest

[Verse]
I don't even got to say that I'm the goat these n*ggas know this
All these n*ggas keep on tryna steal my swag they takin' notes and sh*t
I just jumped up on this beat and snapped the kid ain't even wrote this sh*t
Reach in my pocket and pull out a stack now yo b*tch givin' throat and sh*t
You get money and yo own n*ggas switchin' on you, that's just how it is
All these n*ggas be my sons they actin' out I don't got time for kids
If that b*tch a baddy with a fatty then I might just hit
She just ate me up and the whole gang just told me ice her wrist
f*ck nah, all my n*ggas up now
100s in my pocket this sh*ts older than yo grandpa
Baby you can look but please don't take pics, keep yo hand off
Tell them boys dont trap
Bro gotta touch it, its a standoff
It's like (Fff) lay that fan off
This lil b*tch a fan now
This b*tch gon walk straight into my room and rip her pants off
Get a rapper b*tch just for the night she tryna stay now
If they try some, have to show my bro gon give them stage frights
Lil n*gga we get bands for these shows
f*ckin' fans with the bros
Ice on my head sh*t's so cold, we ain't going broke no more
He cuffed a hoe he broke the code
Young n*gga dripped out heat to toe
I can't be lovin' on these hoes, but I love this money tho
This lil n*gga broke as a joke, boy you funny bro
In the stu all night ain't leavin' till it's sunny hoe
I just did a show I need my 100s n*gga run me tho
How the f*ck did you go broke lil boy where did yo money go? (On gang)
How the f*ck I'm sh*ttin' on these kids I ain't even tryin' to
My bro keep pourin' green all in his cup yea he a slimy dude
Go and hit the road and run it up, is that a time or two?
Man I got two bad b*tches tryna f*ck I don't know what to do
I ain't even stealin' n*ggas swag gon leave that up to you
Come get yo b*tch this lil hoe actin' lame she prolly fond of you
Man these n*ggas don't know how to play the game man, I guess I gotta teach em
Youngest finna go hit Johnny Dang that's what that money do
Just look at my chain that's what that money do
Them 20s, 50s, and a f*ckin' 100s what I'm runnin' through
Why all these n*ggas speakin' on the kid y'all don'y got none to do
I go so many bad b*tches on my di*k I don't know who to choose
Remember they was sleepin' on the kid, lil b*tch you snooze you loose
I'm tryna find a way straight to the blues I'm lookin for the clues
On gang man, you n*ggas needa stop chasin' these hoes and start chasin' a bag
Yo b*tch prolly in a Honda my b*tch in a coupe
[Chorus]
They ain't throw your boy no bands, I had to run my own up
You ain't talkin' bout no bag, I won't even pick the phone up
Yeah, this lil' b*tch love the kid, but I don't even want her
Young n*gga, kid, this sh*t too real, I ain't even write this song up
I been breakin' b*tches' hearts, my n*ggas in here Chromed up
Got your b*tch down on her knees, she in here givin' dome up
n*gga, you got lil' boy pape', but all my pockets grown up
And my wrist the frozest, and my b*tch the coldest