Meek Mill — HNHH Cypher

IMPORTANT: Rap Genius already has a version of this song: URL:http://rapgenius.com/Dj-ill-will-cypher-lyrics [Verse 1: Kid Ink] I said it's Kid Ink baby, turnt to the Maxx like T.J., Body tagged up like the bottom of the freeway Game on lock you niggas need to get a key made Run this shit it ain't nothing but a relay It ain’t nothing you can tell us 'Bout to roll up kush sticky like Elmer’s This ain’t no high act like summer Going head up with me? Bring a motherfuckin' helmet! You niggas just Special Ed., All I see is green but my eyes so red And all I do is win got a room full of clouds 'Bout to take another shot, but I’m used to the fouls I'm ballin', you could take two to the mouth It's Alumni, throw it up two to the south Tell them deuces, just put two in the air So sick, said it must be the flu in the air If you do it big then I prolly did it obese Thought it was a dream but I ain't never get no sleep Up all night, gettin' higher then a nosebleed Swear I was raised by beasts like Mowgli Came from the bottom, rats and the roaches Now niggas blunts ain't as fat as my roaches 'Bout to go H•a•m y'all niggas just kosher I’ma shark in the water see the fin and it's over... [Verse 2: Meek Mill] Ay bitch! They been sleepin' on me Time for me to wake 'em up Countin' all these fucking Bennies 'Till I get a paper cut Kill the competition I bomb 'em then I make 'em up Only time we 'Black and Yellow' When the 'caution' tape is up, Ha! That record dead, memory of Spittin' that crack, this really is drugs It's hate in the air, I ain’t feelin' the love You like a irritatin' fly; I’m killing your buzz I’m eating the beat, this is Pacman I’m on the grind like a mu'fuckin' lap dance Shorty gon' do whatever, say she's a rap fan Erry nigga 'round me: robbin' -- Batman All black coupes, all black wheels Step out the line, I'mma show you how that MAC feel I’m like Cibelli on the corner in a backfield Run, move or get yo mufuckin' cap peeled Rollin' in this murder engine Purrin' through yo neighborhood Let my money do the talkin' I ain't gotta say I'm good Goonies that'll gun ya down I ain’t gotta say I would Ridin' like an engine bitch I ain’t gotta say I’m hood... I tell a ho to follow me or swallow me I be spending money like I fuckin' hit the lottery If I ever hit your girl then this is my apology Cause suckas they be trippin' 'Bout these bitches tryna body me... [Verse 3: Los] I’m about to go: over 'round my arm Leader winnin' I could feel it now Towel around my head Taliban knock ya building down High cock blocker, I’m a fly top shotta In my all red Range like a high top Prada On my Momma's mouth through the drama And life would be drippin' From my lips as I'm spitting that shit That Osama be grippin' Hungry as a poverty stricken, robbery victim With a Roscoe's 'waffles and chicken' Winnin' 'Lottery Ticket' And your girl let me pop it in real life I 'Beat It' like they locked me in a room With the doctor that killed Mike I feel like: put me in a field let the field lights Shine on the field now watch me kill all the field mice I'm anthrax you Tampax, I'm 'bout to go Amtrax Jack Black, blackjack, got the track Saran wrapped Stand back I’m slammin' a antagonist Slapping you faggots puttin' a can in the bandwagon it's: Swag of the century, mack in a bitch or three I heard the head was nothin' tryna crack it eventually Rappers they mention me, boy I put this on my mother You’ll end up Interscope, I'm just tryna Warner Brother Still gettin' cheesecake on these dummies Deal or No Deal, I got a briefcase full of money Jahlil on the beat, Will hostin' this shit And it's T. Lanez, Ink, Meek and Los in this bitch... [Verse 4: Tory Lanez] I, get any instrumental I get a switch in the mental Ya bitch in the rental she positions my dick in her dental Ya know my bitch is a yellow-bone, on Yellowstone Double scoop, chocolate women on my vanilla cone Yellin' cause I'm very gone, yes I'm on a cherry bone Things seem quicker than a ping hit your Berry phone Y'all don't wanna talk about ballin' bar-e-ly Larry Holmes Money never growin' like a fuckin' young Gary Cole-Man Veteran, batter up, bat her in, it's a End to you rappers like the letter after M and I'm a Lamborghini nigga, nigga you could never see me I'm the Shhh, triple 'H'; you gon' have to pedigree me bitch I'm Ready for the beef like it's some lettuce in between me You got eenie meenie money, teeny like the youngest primie And even if you niggas is trippin' still could never see me Or beat me with three wishes and a mu'fuckin' genie Scared? It ain't fair when I play a record on ya Weird and you square; I could play checkers on ya Rap-pers, y'all ac-tors And I rip this track 'til it's tra-ck I, rollerblade; let it ride Show my face; televised Dot to ya top like the lowercase letter 'i' I fly higher than a sci-fi flyer Fire like I'm five lighters, brighter than I hi-lighter (Swavy) Oops, I'm in the loop for time This a European whip check the coupe design Time is money is the building and the truth inside Goon shoot ya in ya head make ya lose ya mind, for real...