Kountdown - Tonk For The Money Freestyle lyrics

[Verse 1: Theodore] Been in cla** a hour only twenty on the wall clock Put the green between then we seal it like a hallmark AHHHHHHHHHHHH DAMN! Been in cla** a hour only twenty on the wall clock Put the green between then we seal it like a hallmark All cards to me, I'm wearing all-stars or 2-3's I call all my groupies they line up like loose leaf Heroin flow, I should have signed to Atlantic I get fresh off the boat and they thank God I landed Got me talking 'bout dope, while I'm thinking 'bout mansions All of these songs I wrote, instead of notes while on campus Should I buy me some weed, should I Buy me some candy Know that I can do both and k** the coast like I'm Sandy Say I'm over the Andes, cause my spokes are on Camby Smoke in Testarossas that my chauffeur drove here I'm Fancy Plus I got Russian spies looking at me Rushing by a dozen guys and they couldn't grab me Hit staples finna go get elastics Staple in the game like windows covered in plastic Colder than Alaska in the summer And a problem like a ba*tard to a mother Championship match look like a damn mismatch Never let go of this belt cause my pants on Sag [Verse 2: Nicholas] Sunrise, forecasted Pay me, fore-thousands Cut it out, foreskin My balls swing, fore caddy More brandy, I'm with brandy That's not her name, but she be randy That's not my game, but damn I'm random You don't know my name, damn that's handy Don't know what to say, but damn he's handsome On the web, all day Chris Hansen On intern sh**, all data crunching I'm not no star, all day I'm dancing Now all they say is damn son Nah, except for the dim ones Your sh**'s dingy, you dim son I'm not dim, but got Parmesan If you're fed up, co*k Beretta So f**ed up on amphetamines Mix the feta with the Ketamine Roll up with no less than seven g's Skinny jeans, like its the seventies Sprite in my cup, grenadine Ambition, heredity Than Martin Luther, I have better dreams I'm not losing it I'm just not Lutheran Talk music George Lucas Not a hipster, just futuristic Your lyrics is Just food for b**hes My sh** is food for distance Many names like for instance Martin Luther Kofi Kingston [Verse 3: A.Warren.SVP] I say what the f** I want! Bout to tell a story! Tell a f**in' novel! Sun is going down round Friday 6 PM Looking to hit the city know I always run them Got a bad b**h in my pocket that I'm tryna bang She come to my door hear my f**ing doorbell rang Take her downtown treat her like the sh** Show her off in style make everyone know she my chick Pull up to the club at one keys to the valet Depending on the bottles how long I'm gonna stay (mmm) Ho on my arm support me while I sway (mmm) Somewhere outside I try to pick up my fancy whip Bugatti is gone and the n***a I left my keys with Don't usually f** with 5-0 but that three mill Some investigation my b**h set up the whole deal Lesson learned don't let that a** get in the way of reason If I ever see her again I'll be charged with something worse than treason Don't stop believing b**h Always love each other stay positive follow me on Twitter