Escucha música Xxl Freshmen 2012 Cypher Part 1 de Future 2025 en línea | Musica Hip Hop

Future - Xxl Freshmen 2012 Cypher Part 1 Lyrics

[Verse 1: Hopsin]
Uh, welcome to the Ill Mind of Hopsin, where real life's an option
The ill lines that I spit make you realize you not sick
Science at its finest, tell Bill Nye to watch it
Now turn this shit the fuck up 'til you feel high and nauseous
Yo, check out this verse I wreck, I think I'm more cursed than blessed
No one seems to know if my brain's the result of birth defects
I need a solution, pastors tell me that church is best
But they'll look at me devilish 'cause I'm how they interpret death
Everybody's always acting fake
Rappers I hate be asking to collaborate
It's sad to say but it's the truth, that instead of trying to congratulate
They got they hands out like we playing a game of Patty Cake
But that ain't what I'm focused on
The day I step up in the lab with a sell out will be the day all hope is gone
The game's filled with a bunch of faggots who don't belong
Always claiming they real niggas but I ain't notice one

[Verse 2: Roscoe Dash]
Where the fuck'd he come from and why is he here?
Dressed in some dope shit your stylist probably would wear
Look like Egyptian hieroglyphics and shit off in his hair
And the message is no one in this day or time could compare
Practice makes perfect, I practiced my whole life
Far from perfect but my worst shit is lapping 'em all twice
Feel like I put the "I" in win, 'cause I did it my whole life
So your first place or second statistics are all hype
I'm all flight, no really, I'm all flight
I live in the sky and get higher than four kites
If your girl like my music, don't worry, it's alright
The day we meet'll never happen, my hours are all night
I worked hard, paid off, floss the evidence, nigga
All my pockets best friends with dead presidents, nigga
Right hook the whole world, throw your bell for these niggas
No wonder they kept a spot on XXL for a nigga, I'm gone!
[Interlude: Machine Gun Kelly]
Ugh, Cleveland, what's up? Kells!

[Verse 3: Machine Gun Kelly]
'When I come around, people smell trouble
I don't fuck with Photoshop, so holler at me when you wanna see a real jungle
The Eastside where fiends huddle
Outta towners come across them potholes stumbling, make their knees buckle
Street signs'll read struggle
Every couple months another shirt with R.I.P.s and we love yous
Instead of leaving school, my friends are leaving out in a duffel
I bleed hustle, why the fuck I need muscle? Run tell them that
I'm going in like needles in war wounds
Kids at the dorm rooms, syringes and harpoons
Summertime hot couple months before June
And have star power while in the planet below moon
Now that's classic, and with all of this wackness
Crowd for providing this track here, it's madness
Without a witch and some spells I made magic
Motherfucking monster, Lake Placid, Kells

[Bridge: Machine Gun Kelly]
Bring that shit back
Bring that shit back
Now bring that shit back
Lace up, uh
[Verse 4: Machine Gun Kelly]
I'ma consider this class, brother, now learn something
A pocket roll, a E-Z Wider, a filter, a little hash so I can burn something
Just to help you cope a little bit more
'Cause 'round here, tomorrow isn't for sure
And we coming up from mistake on the lake, double O
Bag it up, then we wake as we bake, Double O's
Burning up, then we making the cake, double stoves
Then I hop up out the bitch with hella bread like a dozen loaves
That's money, biatch!

[Interlude: Machine Gun Kelly & Future]
Lace up, ugh!
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[Verse 5: Future]
Coke Boys, something like Montana
With the bird gang like Santana
Real street nigga repping for Atlanta
Ain't dropped but I'm still in the Phantom
And I blow that money fast like a candle
Yeah, and I still got stamina
Let my lil' homie do you on camera
Yeah, we ain't nothing but some animals
Got a house and a condo in Miami
What you doing, what you do for the fucking GRAMMY
I do what it take for the paper chase
Freestyle, off the dome, whatever it take
[Verse 6: Danny Brown]
Ho, the only thing you gotta know
My dick’s tucked around when I'm sitting on the floor
You think I'm gon' fall off? Got advice for you, homes
Fall asleep in your car, in the garage, with the engine on
Playing ping-pong with your bitch jaws
You the type to have a sing-a-long in Superman drawers
I got a redhead ho, call her Molly Ringwald
She like to take a mount of Molly and bring Adderall
Sipping white wine 'til the sun set
Before it got dark, she already got naked
Then she start to neck it, then she got reckless
Rump shaker, Wreckx-N-Effects it
Bum stiggedy-bum stiggedy-bum, Das EFX shit
Left her bum sticky, fell asleep on the terrace
Me on the beat, that's a hate crime
With black ink, I murder white lines
Stabbed!