Bitches Ain't Shit Freestyle

Bank filled to the brim, spilt on my rims
Windshield to the wind, cup of gin to the chin
Jewels on my limbs, do not attempt
Reach and I teach you, stay at arms-length
Bank filled to the brim, spilt on my rims
Windshield to the wind, cup of gin to the chin
Jewels on my limbs, do not attempt
Reach and I teach you, stay at arms-length
Streets so gray, sky stone gray
«Where the bitches?», let’s see what the iPhone say
Money won’t stop and time won’t stay
Broke muhfuckas say crime don’t pay
I hide no face, still find no trace
A rap since I put that fire on that lace
Hostile since coke in the nostril
Skinny as pasta with a big ol' Mossberg
Maybach machine, all you hear is cha-ching
Never flew what I flown, all you seen was the wing
All black up from the shoes to the ring
Includin' the mink, I am as rude as you think
Back on the turf like I never left the nerf
Feel sorry for my mother, should’ve never had the birth
I never had a gift, damn sure had a curse
Now who next to climb out the back of that hearse?