Justin Credible Freestyle

Pelle Pelle wheat Timbs like I'm straight out of Yonkers
I see nothing but dead faces when I'm facing my ganja
Bitch, you on the north side, that's why they say I'm a monster
No old killer, Taliban, they used to hang with Osama
All I hang with us crooks, and they play with them choppers
If he a lame like Dillion Brooks, I take him straight off the roster
Sweet ass nigga, how I can tell the way of his posture
Lil' bro swinging the stick, it's like he tryna break a piñata
Nigga talking 'bout extortion, I won't pay him a dollar
Glock go "Bow", make his dread shake like he Flocka
'Fore a nigga play with me, better play with his momma
Pull up over here, and next he on his way to the doctor
Bitch, I'm strapped 'cause I'm from the 'Raq, city where we hunting hats
Fiening for my old shit, cooking up another batch
Sprinting to these millies, made a killing like I'm running track
Foenem get to clapping at your head like a jumping jack
Know some killers living with no guilt, they tryna run it back
Feeling like I'm Wilt, 'cause if they blitz, I send a hunnid a back
Niggas yelling "Free smoke", they don't send enough to match
Lotta of niggas cappers, you a rapper or another rat?
Wait until I die, gon' hit them gates like "Where my brothers at?"
Stepping like I'm from a frat, lil' bro tryna tuck a mat
Trophy room, come and stack, hallway a hunnid plaques
Every day I'm thumbing racks, no, I can't get a (Yeah)
These people got the nerve to try to tell me that I lost it
Standing on my words and I never got exhausted
Get punished when I purge, I like you better in a coffin
Couldn't fight the urge to push my level to the bosses
Bezel yellow imbursed, stones cold, Steve Austin
Train a bad bitch to make her shut up when I'm talking
They act like Brad Pitt, make 'em step into my office
Let that mac spit, tape yellow, red caution
Damn, time to really show 'em who I am
Get followed in real life for playing with me on the 'Gram, nigga
I done earned stripes in the field like the Rams
I'm clutching this pipe while I'm turning the wheel in the Lamb'
Feed her hard dick, the only time I give your lady lunch
And hang with the fam, rolling deep like the Brady Bunch
They can't stop me when I score, they like "Watch the way he come"
On the [?] twenty-four, bitch, I can go for eighty-one (Come on)
Let's sit and talk about some real shit
Deep up in them slums, found a way to make a mill' quick
I was going numb, so much pain I couldn't feel shit
Foot up in they necks, I know I make it hard to deal with, ha

On gang, man
Hood Poet, man, on gang
Owe a lot to y'all man
New shit on the way
New album on the way