Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Dangerookipawaa Freestyle, artist - Ab-Soul. Date of issue: 19.04.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Dangerookipawaa Freestyle |
| Yeah |
| Yeah |
| Yeah, ayy, man, listen |
| Soulo hold a prophecy, I got a premonition (Yeah) |
| I’ma let the beat build and do some demolition (Yeah) |
| Interrupt your whole style, this an inhibition |
| Kamikaze everybody, Eminem edition |
| Yeah |
| Haha, yeah |
| Yeah |
| (What's this?), uh |
| This the, this the flavor in your ear, and it’s brand new (Uh) |
| Craig Mack been back, bitch, where you? |
| (Where you?) |
| Started from the bottom like a square root (Yeah) |
| Then we kept it in the family like an heirloom (Squad) |
| Wagyu, medium, I’m in rare form |
| She hit the split, landed on the dick like Air Jordan |
| Will he raise up? |
| I got to know (Yeah) |
| Uh |
| Nat Turner with the curly hair (Yeah) |
| Pullin' strings like John Mayer (Uh-huh) |
| Probably make a bitch wish come true out the blue (Yeah) |
| Rub the oil lamp and I’m there, yeah |
| Monkey see, monkey do, my nigga, ask Abu (Huh?) |
| I’m on a magic carpet stompin' down Central Avenue (Yeah) |
| Del Amo Boulevard was all I knew |
| I sold my dream to Punch and Dude, they turned me to the fuckin' truth (Facts) |
| Yeah |
| Haha, yeah |
| Yeah |
| Hah (Uh) |
| And the flow is alpaca (Rare) |
| My state of mind is more NASA than half ya (Yeah) |
| Yeah, black lip pastor |
| 'Bout it 'bout it, baby, illest nigga in Nebraska |
| Outlaw breakin' all the rules (Huh) |
| Pac ashes in the spliff, I’m un-topable |
| (Will he raise up? I got to know) |
| That’s all I got for you |
| Yeah, uh |
| Yo |
| Another moment of most dopeness for Malcolm McCormick |
| On the prowl for another style that I stick a fork in |
| The steak was eighty an ounce, my elbows on the table |
| I got manners, but breakin' the rules is what we came to do |
| My lady built like she belong in a stable, I’m on my high horse |
| They call me Soulo, the irony is to die for |
| (This ain’t a movie, dawg), this bag ain’t full of no popcorn |
| You ain’t up to par with me, nor are we on the golf course |
| Hidden gem like a YMCA in the boondocks |
| The weapon shop could not keep secret for too long |
| I’m Dangeroo Kipawaa, refrain from gettin' involved |
| Or your safety’s at stake for sure like a surf and turf you enjoy |
| Raw backwards on all of you rappers, you heard it before |
| The rawest rapper of the planet’s name is Herbert IV |
| Sex, drugs, money, and mayhem, the workers of Satan |
| Still take 'em to church and say, «Amen,» my words in a playpen |
| Ridiculous, the sickest with it, you just a common cold |
| So novice, I’m the post office pushin' the envelope |
| Moosa had to remind me who the god was |
| I ain’t on my knees, but I’m praying on him regardless |
| Matt need a new crib for his baby |
| So big, he be forgettin' where the crib for his baby |
| Dot told me, «This time, we demandin' respect» |
| Milk the game for all it’s worth like a mammary gland, ayy |
| Man |
| Yeah |
| Wait for it, wait for it |
| Soul |