Bodega BAMZ - Banned From Radio lyrics

They can't f** with us n***a Drewski! Ridin on these n***as, they already know what it is and what we about What we about n***a?! Cipha Sounds what's up n***a, yeah [Verse 1: Drewski] Regardless the rain or snow, sleet or hail I kick street tales Meet the devil when I see hell And by a state[?] Pullin your fate in the palm of my hands Blow you away if you ain't part of the fam The realest n***a in the game Tattoos cover my pain Eyes closed still holdin my aim Sweatsuit, gold rolly and chain Dope dealer sh** Black fist, on him[?] Hussein That's k**er sh** Street n***a, speak for the crooks Give me feminine looks co*ks**a I'm the king of the brook[?] Dress like I'm in a video--Pop!-- f** the whole radio--Pop!-- f** these other n***as that they ride for the city though [Verse 2] Henny, white, no ice Eat only five-star caviar No jobs given In the ride an Apple Macintosh Tay[?] connection Second-guessing get your melon caved in Then we celebratin Hit your shorty while he level playin[?] Do it for the streets n***a Do it for the tweets I'm a corner-store n***a I just rap off[?] to beef Raise the hurt, leave em double dead I'm a bubble head I never listen to nothin my mother said Poppy like Camacho Boxin, duckin vanachos[?] Watch[?] me call me guapo Pockets fatter than sauco[?] The weed: color purple Beat the p**y like Harpo Deadly with the manos I'll give you all a pistaco[?] [Verse 3] Fo-wheel drive with the piece on me Coke boys got in lots with the streets homie They frontin live with a weak omen Whole chicken broke down, move that less than a week homie Courtside seats bought my own whistle Three-quarter mink, bad to the bone gristle When your team up, n***as wanna ball with you No hammer but I bet you got them hoes with you Bald-head no lockout, go hard no cop out Just watch your back then jump out Boys gon hop out High-school dropout, figured how to get it on the stove Pull up to my old school with the drop out [Verse 4 Troy Ave] Dope boy swag to the max Troy Ave mof**a and I'm dealin with facts Not made[?] for TV, but I'm on TV J-Ro[?] the deep[?], mof**a you see me Self-made, self-paid, that's boss Twitter DM's from the boy Rick Ross No contract but I deal Cocaine, still sh** real, I am ill Count on my Bendo's[?] Got it off lend though New York City To[?] the big homies my hand do[?] Adidas deal, I have never been checked Show me my respect or get shown Wally[?] wet[?] motherf**ers [Verse 5 Mack Wilds] Yeah, it's Mack There ain't a n***a that you know more thorough than this It's a shame, cuz a singer k**in' her more than ya b**h Bust off and let the hot barrel sit on her lips, heh And that's just me up on some ignorant sh** I got a couple motherf**ers gettin rich as a b**h As I put my city back with the music and sh** Guess I'm the Most imitated Grammy-nominated Hotel accommodated Cheerleader prom dated I put my city on my back, I'm never overrated The young Samo, loading up all his ammo Vandalize every time Cipha put me on f**in wax Catchin bodies, TV now on the f**in track [Verse 6] Ayo, a few ways out of the hood I think about it while I'm ravelin 'woods The haze round, but I'd rather the kush I get it soft, I was grabbin the cook Fresh off the block to this rap That's a real good look And I just had a brand new kid I need money for some diapers and a brand new crib Being broke, this sh** hurt like a brand new bid That's why I cut the dope twice and I'm still in the biz, n***a, uh Eything; real sh** f**in with the boy for Real flint[?], keep my circle tight Cuz they'll swell[?] quick n***as stylin Guns on us be wilin Resorts in the island The belts is Italian