FLOWS Lyrics

R.I.P. my mama man, no one would have ever thought I'd be this cold, never

I was born a star, and these niggas hate it

This one's for you

Look, hands down, out the gate, I'm one of the greatest around

Pick an artist in each town, I'm putting niggas in the ground

I'm concrete, hold it down, smile, I'll never frown

Need a throne with a crown, time to apply for Chanel

When mama said I was a star, knew I was the hottest around

I don't even need to talk, the talent speak for itself

I don't need no one else, I don't need a nigga help

I can do rap by myself, pump you get hit with a shell

Losing all mental health, feel like I'm losing myself

Scorpion let me take him down to hell, I'm turning into a devil

They know I'm not rebel, I stay up in trouble, but make money double, ain't flipping the same

Got racks in the middle, the squad in the huddle, don't fumble, my nigga ain't new to the game

I know they ain't ready, a nightmare like Freddy, it might just get deadly, I'm TB12 with the rings

In love with the finer things, I need them all to scream my name

Boston on my back in my chest, niggas taking shots but I got the vest

Playing the world like a game of chess, the hip hop avatar with elements next

Give me space, do what I do best, roll the stru, need to catch my breath

Money on money, addicted checks, for the gang, anybody can stretched

Visionville, nigga, virgang the set, keep it 1k my nigga don't test

Damn fam, y'all, I'm spreading they necks, extraordinary and I ain't seen my best

Yeah, I know my mom proud of her son, shine bright, Neo, I am the one

Two, three, and a nigga is done, cook a beats, yeah we do it for fun

What is a rapper nigga, eat em well done

Hold up, gotta show the teeth, yeah I got a smile on me

And it's by JD, chip skylark, love my shiny teeth and me

No skates, grind into a tee, all these clubs, all my niggas in free

I'm a dog, I'm a beast, a canine off the leash, off the mental, so it's free

Don't wanna pick a bone with me, turn a nigga into meat, and leave him dead in the street

Fishy smelling like the sea, they ain't got flows like me

Balenciaga on the feet, hublot for the watch, an London customs for the tee

You bitch