YBN Cordae Freestyles on Flex | Freestyle #130

[Part I: "Otis"]

[Intro: YBN Cordae]
Okay, ooh, ooh
Oh, y'all on some shit
Sip my tea man
Make a lil' house out this bitch
Uh, okay

[Verse 1: YBN Cordae]
I came in the game with a chip on my shoulder
Looking at the competition, all these niggas is older
Only got two favorite rappers, Jigga and HOVA
I'm sipping the soda, Lamborghini equipped with a motor
'Till I hopped in the fast lane, reminiscing my past pains
Carry it, the cash came, heritage from my last name (Uh)
I'm from a tribe of brilliance, I buy the building
Please hide the children, I'm 'bout to go on a killing spree
Know you feeling me, got these rap poems, soliloquies
Wife, I really need, these hoes a bunch of Billy Jeans
Fake ass niggas, snake ass niggas
Rapping fast but "What the fuck did you say?" ass niggas
Type imported with Michael court in, your life distorted
The best nigga out of the league since Michael Jordan
Plotting what I'm 'bout to accomplish, quite enormous
I don't have to write to forfeit, my nigga my life a story
Call Spike Lee, tell him how I made it off of type beats
I might be the nicest with the handles since Kyrie
Rookie vet, came in the game, just took the check
Bodying everything that I do, my nigga look at Flex
Shoutout to my nigga Joey, court side at the Brooklyn Nets
Told him I need a ticket, you gotta be specific
My nigga, I bleed terrific and piss excellence
My shit heaven sent, flowing like a sick veteran
The difference between me and you
Multiply your self worth by five trillion
Your high ceilings still couldn't equal two
Fraction of my worst shit, find your purpose
But while my verses, you can learn something, go soul searching
Now watch me spend these Benjamin Franklins
Like what this nigga be thinking
Never forgot to deposit that as memory bank and
Hilary Swank and niggas should really be thanking
The young God MC stopped the killing, he's dangerous

[Interlude 1: YBN Cordae & Funkmaster Flex]
You see it, wow
Uh, huh (Woof), yeah
Watchu got Juan, watchu got?
What's next?

[Part II: "Suge"]

[Intro: YBN Cordae]
Okay, ayy turn this shit up a little bit
Okay, I fuck with this, alright
Uh, Jetson make- ayy

[Verse 2: YBN Cordae]
Different day, different dollars
Switch Impalas, Fendi, Prada, plenty proper
Just dropped 100K on my new portfolio, you a penny stopper
You can keep your Balenciaga's, got plenty drama
Man, I'm fiending like twenty mamas
I'm barely rich, man, I still eat at Benihana
I'ma need like ten Rihanna's
Post commentary to all my niggas in solitary
My bitch bad like Halle Berry
We be making movies like Tyler Perry
Shit kinda scary, my God
Why you got to be so bashful
Shawtie wanna hit my phone with a hassle (Huh)
I ain't tryna raise no Rascals
Copped a new crib, shit look like a castle (Ayy)
Getting them coins (Uh), Filet the steak, I ain't eating sirloins (Uh)
Baby come join (Uh), I'm getting this money, I won't
So fortunate, proportionate
Lost Boy, nigga, no coordinates
Remember Christmas, we was giftless
Three foot tree, no ornaments
Pull my dick out, hoes swarming it
Flow cold, nigga no warming it
Mama couldn't afford AAU, so we couldn't hoop, nigga no tournaments
Now I'm with my nigga Ben Simmons plus ten women, I been winning
Me and you, it's a big difference
Naw for real, now listen Flex, ayy
You ain't dealing with no amateur
Two toned drip might damage ya
Hit a nigga quick, no camera
I do not think you could handle us
Why they in the streets so scandalous?
Rap niggas dumb, don't plan enough
Let me tell you how I ran it up
Six months, live with my manager
I was down bad on my ass, with no cash in the bag, now I'm finally manning up
Tryna get a sack, boy I'm the quarterback on my team like my last name Manning, bruh
Know what that mean?
If that bitch bad, get in between
Her pussy wetter than aquamarine
Made that ho sing, Adam Levine (Uh)

[Interlude 2: YBN Cordae & Funkmaster Flex]
Yeah, yeah
Hold it bruh
Keep it rolling
We rolling (Uh, huh)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Part III: Kick, Push]

[Intro: YBN Cordae & Funkmaster Flex]
If you got bars (Uh, huh)
If you out here watching this
Hol' up, hol' up my nigga, bring that back
Aww man
If you got bars like this (Uh, huh)
Submit you material, alright (Yeah)
Submit FunkFlex.com if you can spit like YBN Cordae (Yeah)
I'm not sure if you can, but if you can send it to me
Come on
You got another one?
Let's do it, come on let's play (Let's go)
If you got another one, I got another one (Let's do it)
Let's go, let's do it
Uh, man I love the diversity
Flex, yeah, yeah
Oh, this why I came up here 'cause y'all play great beats (Who?)
For real, haha, ayy

[Verse 3: YBN Cordae]
I'm still searching on the path that I'm headed beyond
One thing I had to learn was never question a don
What is life to a king and what is death to a pawn?
When I was twelve I got baptized and read the Quran
Searching for purpose, answers
Locked up for murdering verses
Stan, I heard you was nervous but that's my manners
Grew up in Carolina but was raised by the panthers
Moved to Maryland, mama used to work at the Sheraton (Uh)
One bed room apartment, it was so embarrassing
Hard times will humble the soul and lower arrogance
Raised in the trenches with robbers, it's no samaritans
No charity, you niggas confused, it's no clarity
Crystal clear diamonds from Africa, just imported
I realized with money that vanity is less important
Feeling like LeBron with plans of catching Jordan
Plotting on a billi, ways to invest the fortune
Let me switch the topic for you niggas that's getting brolic
If you kicking knowledge, I'll make a scholar revisit college
Dropped out and told professor, "Kiss my ass"
Now I'm heading to the studio to diss my class
Let me bring it back a second for all of my adolescence
Am I the dopest out? My nigga, why is that a question?
Competition is nonexistent, was born the greatest
My parents fornicated but that shit's a normal basis
Gave birth to a king, wasn't a cloud in the sky
To all of the motherfuckers who would doubt, it's a lie
So remember this like it was in the Book of Genesis
I reminisce days when love was real and all the infinite
Tired of the fake shit, back to the basics
Your favorite rapper's favorite, somebody had to say it
Was caught up in the Matrix, almost lost joint
Now, y'all motherfuckers go and cross The Lost Boy
Nigga