Belly Freestyle (2017) | LA Leakers Freestyle #004

[Intro]
They say I love hard, but I'm hard to love though
Yeah, look, look

[Verse]
Couple immigrants with guns in their Diadoras
Catch a body, just a product of the diaspora
Too blind to see the horror, too numb to feel an aura
I need a love like Steve and Laura, Rob and Rita... hold up
Violate and they might kill you for it
You don't want that kind of smoke, I feel like Phillip Morris
My spirit is torn, I hear it and still ignore it
I'm popping orange pills in the hills with Lauren
Warning, I don't need to get my palm read
To know I'm bout to smack rappers until my palm red
Baguettes in my Rolex, homie, that's long bread
I think they got me on the wrong meds
That's when we all said we were dying just to make a living
Until we came back and made a killing
But that's all connected
Hero-villain; It's all perspective
Trigger happy police killers, they so selective
When your skin and origin begins to be a deathwish
And they get out by morning in time to eat they breakfast
Locked up, you call collect, come home you call collections
Ironically this shit is called "corrections," I stand corrected
It's all deception like your false elections
Feeling lost like I missed directions
Must be the misdirection
See I can send this in a text, you wouldn't get the message
You probably wouldn't have said shit until I interjected
I'm popping X's to forget my exes
More molly for the melancholy
Four beans at the same time like edamame
I'm never sorry, I'm writing my forever story
My pops never called me, the last time that we spoke
He said "Tell the Federales they won't ever find me."
I used to dream of Maybachs, I never rode shotty
These memories send chills through my whole body
Parents bugging, beefing with my evil cousins
Left home without a piece of luggage
I had visions of the reaper coming
These are the repercussions
No sheets or covers, it ain't like I even sleep or nothing
Tweaking coming down, having deep discussions
She got so high and started speaking Russian
I'm peeking, fussing "Let me waste another week for nothing."
Fuck twelve like a baker's dozen, bitch I'ma make you love it
I'ma make you love it