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Vic Mensa Freestyle (2017) | LA Leakers Freestyle #016

VIC MENSA

GENRE

Rap

[Verse 1]
I'm tired of hearin' niggas sayin' they're better than Pac
Watch your mouth 'fore I slap mothafuckas
My clip loaded, no subliminal shots
Mmmm let me run that back, let me run that back right here
I'm tired of hearin' niggas sayin' they're better than Pac
Watch your mouth 'fore I slap mothafuckas
My clip loaded, no subliminal shots
I get at mothafuckas, I don't @ mothafuckas
Yeah I'm talkin' to all y'all, with your ho ass
Shout out to XXL Freshman slow class
I'm a dropout though, pick your crew better
I love you Vanessa but you know it's time to do better
Screw whoever, I will murder all of you together
Catch you in your old school and hit you in your New Era
The pills ain't what's poppin', just ask Heath Ledger, yeah
And I'm no joke, and my vision laser focused
The Roc is still in the buildin', my niggas is takin' over
I call up Tony Toca, he tell 'em they can't touch me
Lil' nigga, but I wrap 'em up like Joe Pesci
Still at you, God bless me, shirt off, I'm too sexy
You don't gotta love me, but you will respect me, yeah [Verse 2]
Watch your tone, youngin', this is grown folk business
My niggas is in the trenches with hammers and wrenches
And some ratchets, I mean ratchets, could be some of your bitches
Anybody could get rushed, I feel like Russell Simmons
I got bars on all y'all, that's bar-none
I smoke all y'all squares by the carton
Niggas mad as Sean at the Garden
These aren't the droids you're lookin' for, you got the wrong one
You got long guns? Okay, we got 'em too
I ain't talkin' 'bout record deals or who got signed
I ain't talkin' 'bout record sales or views on Vine
I mean, who got rhymes? It's an art to war
I got Sun Zu lines, let me start with furl
First off, me and Drake ain't really cool, but that nigga nice
Me and Chano had issues, but shit, that's life
Cole and Kendrick is two of the few that I respect
The rest of y'all my sons, this is child neglect
What you sayin' behind your sound effects?
You don't want that smoke, I'll put a hole in your throat
And make it easier for you to talk out your neck
I don't honor you niggas, I will crumble you niggas
Like the Pentagon in front of you, 'bout to fall on you niggas
In an Iranian plane, you Call of Duty with triggers
Think it's a game until the coroners come and get you
You come to your common senses, remember my name
Nigga, do I gotta spell it out? V-I-C-L-A, what they talkin' 'bout?
We the last niggas with words worth talkin' 'bout
Salute to all of the writers that left me off your list
It help me sleep at night knowin' I could fuck your bitch
That's the problem with these so-called journalists
They're really failed artists turned into blog murderers
Like you could review some shit that you couldn't do
Take an Uber pool to a job at a cubicle
I rhyme for niggas that'll rob you and shoot at you
That's enough for you wack niggas, I'm through with you

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