FACCS Freestyle by Kojo-Trip Lyrics
[Verse : Kojo-Trip]
Trippy! Uh…
True story, got no money and no friends
They say it’s not a man’s car if it’s no benz
Life is a party and they ordered us to slow dance
Prolly why I go ham on a slow jam
I been on the rocks cuz I’ll never get to know when
The ticking stops, we’re living clocks
Not everybody gets the photo, still we all get cropped
And they sold you a dream, bro your photo’s shopped Uh!
I’m next up, I’m Dexter, always cooking in the lab, spitting that extra
It’s the premier league and you’re akin to Leicester
Go ahead and stunt, you know your reign wouldn’t last the
Length that short of a plaster, they told me
That I’d be the one outsmarting the masters
The real robbers be the bankers and pastors
And every day it’s the same questions they ask us
They’re not sons of God, could these niggas be bastards?
Pimps and actors? Singing to the glory of our empty pockets?
Fake ass Frank Sinatras? Always getting slept on just like a dirty mattress
Living in they fancy address, see you acting like a rose
Nigga you a fucking cactus, playing them foul tactics
Forgot how you a fake and how I seen you practice? ha haa
Uh Mamba ambedzi agor, I ain’t come for games
Always been about the Kwacha, couldn’t care for dames
Got a extra set of clips, I never miss my aim
Say you’re sick, clever joke but we don’t piss the same
All of my niggas sick with the words
Only came for action like we in love with the verbs
Trynna make it and get outta the burbs
My nigga Clipse came through with the hearse
Hit the gas and we don’t ever reverse
[Verse : A-Clipse]
A – C!
A.C Got it trippin on tracks
I was sippin’ on faxe when I written all that
Till I’m sitting on racks I be spittin more crack
Even there and then a nigga won’t slack
Chale picture all that like it’s Van Gogh
I try giving examples, for all the fellas with the wack flow
I’m way diddy like I’m past dro
Your flow missing like ya Castro
A’s only bout the cash flow
Wey e be nothing but the facts bro
I go dey get am from the get go
The flow hard like its steel, that’s a klepto
I spit bars make you feel, make you stress so
Make you rest in beats, I rep with ease
I spit like a Mac I squeeze I keep shooting
No forget the dash before you rep the C’s
Make them trip like a ecstasy
From the neck to knee you get bodied
We dey wreck the beat den lef homi’s
The wey we speck the beat its just prolly
The whole sect is deemed to act folly
With more sense, its all things
With more bands, so fuck rent
We cop things till its all spent
No nonsense if you gbenke we
I bless songs you for thank a G
And you’re welcome bruh!
Trippy! Uh…
True story, got no money and no friends
They say it’s not a man’s car if it’s no benz
Life is a party and they ordered us to slow dance
Prolly why I go ham on a slow jam
I been on the rocks cuz I’ll never get to know when
The ticking stops, we’re living clocks
Not everybody gets the photo, still we all get cropped
And they sold you a dream, bro your photo’s shopped Uh!
I’m next up, I’m Dexter, always cooking in the lab, spitting that extra
It’s the premier league and you’re akin to Leicester
Go ahead and stunt, you know your reign wouldn’t last the
Length that short of a plaster, they told me
That I’d be the one outsmarting the masters
The real robbers be the bankers and pastors
And every day it’s the same questions they ask us
They’re not sons of God, could these niggas be bastards?
Pimps and actors? Singing to the glory of our empty pockets?
Fake ass Frank Sinatras? Always getting slept on just like a dirty mattress
Living in they fancy address, see you acting like a rose
Nigga you a fucking cactus, playing them foul tactics
Forgot how you a fake and how I seen you practice? ha haa
Uh Mamba ambedzi agor, I ain’t come for games
Always been about the Kwacha, couldn’t care for dames
Got a extra set of clips, I never miss my aim
Say you’re sick, clever joke but we don’t piss the same
All of my niggas sick with the words
Only came for action like we in love with the verbs
Trynna make it and get outta the burbs
My nigga Clipse came through with the hearse
Hit the gas and we don’t ever reverse
[Verse : A-Clipse]
A – C!
A.C Got it trippin on tracks
I was sippin’ on faxe when I written all that
Till I’m sitting on racks I be spittin more crack
Even there and then a nigga won’t slack
Chale picture all that like it’s Van Gogh
I try giving examples, for all the fellas with the wack flow
I’m way diddy like I’m past dro
Your flow missing like ya Castro
A’s only bout the cash flow
Wey e be nothing but the facts bro
I go dey get am from the get go
The flow hard like its steel, that’s a klepto
I spit bars make you feel, make you stress so
Make you rest in beats, I rep with ease
I spit like a Mac I squeeze I keep shooting
No forget the dash before you rep the C’s
Make them trip like a ecstasy
From the neck to knee you get bodied
We dey wreck the beat den lef homi’s
The wey we speck the beat its just prolly
The whole sect is deemed to act folly
With more sense, its all things
With more bands, so fuck rent
We cop things till its all spent
No nonsense if you gbenke we
I bless songs you for thank a G
And you’re welcome bruh!