f*ck 12 FREESTYLE lyrics

[Intro: CHRIST DILLINGER]
Yeah, and f*ck all you rappers
(Listen up, ay let's get this going)
Ayy, ayy, damn, damn

[Verse 1: CHRIST DILLINGER]
Hop on the beat like a pogo
And read out my logo
My b*tch is official
Yo' b*tch Quasimodo
I keep a phone, I ain't talking no local
But n*ggas talk down and make me go loco
Me and my n*ggas pull up in a photo
It's just me and Darkie, the rest is all hoes though
Suck and they suck and they wanna take photos
I'm all for the sub but a fake is a no-no
Get back in the trap, we go ham
For pull forth for all of my n*ggas, trapping, all my n*ggas that scam
PayPal, Cash App, TD Banks, City Bank with the plays
Real n*ggas don't give a damn
I'm motivated, the beat is cremated, the crime we committed was premeditated
Spitting the strongest, but n*gga I'm faded
I'm f*cking your b*tch like her pus*y the greatest
She said that I’m sadist, that b*tch get degraded
These n*ggas pay famous, the cap is so heinous
I ride around with a strap like it's legal
I'm high as a bird, I twist the sound like a eagle
n*ggas think that they are rapping but they are just talking
He say he got b*tches but he just be stalking
The game is evolving but, I'm Richard Dawkins
If she acting stupid, this b*tch end up walking
My fist gave him blisters, you'd think he was talking
b*tch was just watching dark had to drop him
I think I had an epiphany
You is not sick as me
And I got rifles as big as me
Heard that this n*gga was after me
Pistol gon' pay me like masterpiece
n*gga just speak the audacity
As soon as you think about passing me
You do what he do, and what he do
n*gga you don't fool me
n*gga that sh*t ain't you
n*gga, fake love, it just real hate
And I'm too real so I can't relate
Where I just stay away from the f*cking fakes
Say I'm Christ Dillinger, hey f*ck the jakes
(Ayy, free frank)
[Verse 2: Lil Darkie]
f*ck 12 like a dozen groupies
Saying free Fourteen, that's a cousin to me
Most n*ggas just care about who you truly
n*ggas cut up a show like a f*cking movie, n*gga
I'ma sh*t on you faggots, I got diarrhoea
I'm f*cking your b*tch on my bed from IKEA
You speaking on Darkie? Retarded idea
Don't ask me for nothing, I'm deaf I can't hear ya
Shut up, you yapping a lot you get f*cked up
And why am I thinking you’ll regret
Talking sh*t but you didn't on me yet
Bite down, right now I could really give a f*ck if you don't walk 'round
Talk down, pus*y I don't wanna pop rounds
If you pulling me, I'll hit you with the top down
You ain't fooling me I'll get you in the hop down
Get down, pop a [?]
Yoda got a hold on my daughter
I got a jet now, rode a [?] hits on my [?], I got a rat now
Thoughts away, I'm passing the clouds on this [?] now
Hop out n*gga look at my stick, yuh
Hop up n*gga look at my stick
Stick in the mud, stickin' that blunt, yuh
She just want a pickle like rick, yuh
She just want a pickle like rick, yuh
She just want a pickle like rick, yuh
She just want a pickle like rick, yuh
She just want a pickle like rick, yuh
She just wanna tickle my di*k, yuh
She just wanna wiggle my member
I don't remember, smoking on embers
I got the heat like I'm into December, yuh
Pulling that Glock like raider
Reason I'ma flight, I'll fade her
Rinse that sh*t
Running her by like “later”
Bumping that Tyler, The Creator
She said “sh*t,” folk
You can get stuffed like coke, coke, coke
She can get rough, get broke, broke, broke
I don't f*ck with the new folk, yuh
I don't f*ck with the new folk, folk, folk
Smoking a blunt of that dope, dope, dope
b*tch, you come 'round, you get soaked, soaked, soaked
I ain't got rental, get po, po, po, po
b*tch, b*tch, b*tch ask me when I woke, woke, woke
You can get sh*t at you spoke, spoke, spoke
First rapper on paper, dirt nap to all my haters (Later!)