Cordae — 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