Troy Ave - XXL 2014 Freshmen Cypher Part 3 lyrics

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Troy Ave - XXL 2014 Freshmen Cypher Part 3 lyrics

[Produced by Don Cannon] [Verse 1: Jon Connor] It's Jon Connor, the people's rapper Uh, look, ey, start with a dream, young and naïve and then they grow the ambition f**ed up conditions, put my mom's in a better position See I'm the future like a psychic prediction I'm from the school of hard knocks, sh** I did life in detention I'm from where n***as get shot down, dreams get shot down Wish the hood would let us live but all we heard was “block out” Now I'm further than what they believed I'd achieve ‘Cause Flint n***as don't even want you to have dreams when you sleep Low expectations, no expectations, know what you facing f** the odds I proved you can get up from under a basement I been with scandalous b**hes that will take you for granted Roll with scandalous n***as only taking advantage People take your kindness for weakness, taking you through the ringer It's a gang bang, life is a b**h and it's not a pre-nup Life is dirty, sh** box dirty, and we're playing clean-up Go through the Ike & Tina, before the Martin & Gina I play follow the leader and I done swam with the sharks made it out the Aquafina n***as turned into leeches, turned these swamps into beaches My people saying "Eureka!", n***as pretend, they hate you, they despise you, they ain't you n***as is full of sh** that's why they probably empty God promised a feast how you gon' tempt me with Denny's n***as and b**hes rats, stay away from mickey's and minnie's I fend for this city, when I ain't have a friend in this city Adding in your two cents? I'll show you what to do with them pennies, look My intellect been a wreck, crash course on this real sh** In Flint, every day is a Virginia Tech, f** rating on the internet f** what popping off in comments, pop off in public My n***as is into that, Jon Connor AVM, Aftermath, best in the world n***a! [Verse 2: Jarren Benton] Uh, Jarren Benton, half-man, half-tyrannosaurus I wasn't born I was thrown out a spaceship and landed in an abandoned forest The Grizzly bear trapped Goldilocks in a pan of porridge I call my name and you're f**in' scared you can't ignore us Go get a damn thesaurus, the preacher, the son of God Only way you f**in' with Mister Benton, no façade I put a man in the desert sand, that's no mirage I go gambit on n***as and pull your poker cards I go loco mark open heart surgery, with no power tools A f**in' monster, I will devour you I'm Cujo and c**aine with rabies in them These kids dying like Casey Anthony babysitting I'll f**in' f**in' rip your tonsils out And throw your dead corpse in a tool shed in my uncle's house I got love for Lil' Boosie but free Mumia These n***as signing like three-sixty deals for two New Kias sh**, TLC got a Rav-4 You might catch me in a Prius with a bad who*e I snatch a rapper out the sunroof of a Jaguar You ain't a spitter, then what the f** do you rap for? n***as like “I ain't a rapper, I'm a trapper” Then stay inside the trap or get eaten by the f**in' master Of ceremonies, it's hip hop, with a gold rope and a pair of ponies Can't grab a b**h by the ponytail ‘cause the hair is phony Moving from African Gods to Amistad These n***as going broke is still stunt in they momma's car It's FV twenty-one-four the summer's ours And you a b**h in a woman's skirt, son of a coward The fireman, I extinguish these n***as out fast I grew up off of Red, Em, Goodie Mob, and Outkast I keep the Wu-Tang sword propped on the front seat That's your favorite rapper? To me that n***a just lunch meat Jarren Benton, Rest in Peace Jahmal Pryor [Verse 3: Lil Bibby] Uh, Let me talk my sh** Bands in my pocket so I walk like this Just spent 80 grand when I bought my whip Lou told me to lease it but I bought my sh** And I came in the game like LeBron James First the money, and the fame, then the broads came See your clique, fifty deep, but they all lame Young n***a stacking books like a card game They like “How the f** is he a freshman?” Young n***a spitting better than the veterans I need the cover, why the f** I gotta sit with them? The whole world know these words ain't compared to him Uh, yeah the kid's so co*ky, feeling like Ali n***as can't stop me, jackers wanna rob me Opps wanna pop me, that's why I keep a lil' bro right beside me I'm from the Chi, sh** real in this motherf**er f** around, get k**ed in this motherf**er Paranoid, I can't chill in this motherf**er Can't leave without the steel in this motherf**er These n***as keep saying “Don't trip” Climbing to the top, I just hope I don't slip n***as sending threats and I never been a b**h So I'm steady buying guns, youngin feeling like tilt Lil' Bibby I'm the same old pimp No more Ramen Noodles, just lobsters and shrimp I could be in jail tryna talk through them vents Or running from the cops, probably hopping a fence But, I'm in the drop with the tints Flow so sick it don't make no sense n***as be mad I don't take no pics Chain so froze I could take your b**h But I don't even need ice though And this that eighty-four mic flow We don't rap beef, my squad a little psycho Plus these rap n***as s** like Lipo I ain't forgot about the old me Straight off the block now I'm ballin' like Kobe [Verse 4: Troy Ave] Troy Ave, with the cla**ic feel Bands be racking, major without a deal I'm that n***a, if you got eyes you could tell You're seeing me rise, you're seeing me with XX-L Putting on for my city and I'm doing it well So much style I should be down with The Stylistics as well This like BIG and Jay, Troy Ave hit after I represent the streets, I ain't these weirdo rapper Self-paid n***a came from whipping the batter Hit the bank they like “Who is this young stacker?” HP, PSB, HE, double-L yes, oh baby, yeah, it's me Ho spillers, smooth skinner, dope dealer Mad n***as be out in New York, my buzz iller I'm an ill n***a, Dungarees by Hilfiger As a lil' n***a coming up, now I'm bigger In the dope game, then these fraud n***as with rap names I'm named after my block, Troy Ave mane Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, still in this street thang We'll be at the Barclays, Nets vs. Heat game Man, where these other n***as seats man? Man, these seats ain't cheap, man These other n***as weak, man Talking ‘bout they proud of me Pay attention to my moves but I style for free These bum n***a styles ain't no style to me Dickriding never been transportation, B Powder, Troy Ave biz, we reckless New York City sh**, uh huh