Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Friday Night Cypher, artist - Big Sean.
Date of issue: 03.09.2020
Age restrictions: 18+
Friday Night Cypher |
This that clipse sample |
Fuck that talking let the clip slam 'em |
Yellow bands around them hundreds you know how much that is |
Too much to give me cash they had to wire me the back end |
Niggas in here looking tough you know that I got Mag in |
Ask me am I only rapping you know I got that bag in |
Band man like Lonnie, want my head, come find me |
Lil' bro in that bitch chilling he ain’t trying to come home cocky |
He come home to a dollar and a mansion and a choppa |
And a desert on a dirt bike VLone shirt and the Pradas |
Big nigga fresher than you, fuck you and your stylist |
Paid 90 for my grill and lost it, that’s why I ain’t smiling |
You got Sean, you got Hit, you got Grizz, Kash Dolla |
Paint you red, throw you in the water |
They gonna think you a lobster, nigga |
I just dropped a kit you dropped out of school |
These hoes wanna be famous 'til they make the news |
All my bitches winning how it feel to lose? |
Nigga trying to get the box like he finna move |
Bitch, I’m at my pinnacle I used to shop at Pinnacle your nigga still drink |
Pinnacle |
Bitch your taste is pitiful |
I talk cash shit you ain’t cash shit call up baby choppa Cash Kidd is still my |
cash kid |
You stay back like ad libs, I buy, I don’t ask shit, I pop shit and pop tags, |
bitch |
This New Era be cappin' |
Me Sean T off that Pusha T, ain’t no pushing me, bro might put you on to T |
Dot my Is and cross my Ts, bro might put you six feet or bro gon' put you on |
your feet |
But bro can’t put you on to me A+ pussy worth a B, nigga |
You niggas ain’t with no B, fuck outta here |
I keep dying in my dreams but life’s great when I stay woke |
Bet you love dreaming that’s the only time you ain’t broke |
Try me 40 make you back up like Dej Loaf and Big Sean |
Get triggered down Jhene Aiko |
Gotta keep Glock in the fanny nigga you know I’m finna to handle it |
Put a body on a ratchet I feel like Dr Miami |
Niggas try to ride my wave like they stopping a taxi |
On a six, in a Lam, but I’m not that bitch Mary |
But once they counted me out I came back with a vengeance |
And back-to-back Benzes, back-to-back winning |
Rap failed, oh well, gimme back my scale and a burn-out cell, I’ll grow |
clientele |
41 P I don’t sell dreams, I wholesale P’s, want half’s nigga don’t call me |
Don’t insult me, wrist frosty, 'bout eighty what this shit cost me |
Don’t worry I’ll make it back before you sip coffee |
I roll with hustlers n' bosses, bosses n' hustlers, had to find my hustle I was |
lost in the gutter |
Got out that jam now it’s foreigns with the seats peanut butter |
Bitch it’s BYLUG for life never crossing my brothers |
I fuck with six mile, not too much the seven, they free to fall |
That’s your bitch, huh? |
well, get her together she fucking bro |
You know them road trips still a dub in, sub in |
Even if the party was seven the strip club ten |
I’m all in this bitch on the tether I’m throwing dubs still |
I put her in the Bentley matching rims free |
Told her keep the G Wagon plain don’t even tint these |
Came fucking with a lame, dog you got her head big |
300 a line for the wop I’m sipping red still |
I know how the feds feel I make it hard to catch me |
'Cause selling corn still code word for reggies |
I ain’t sign a deal yet fuck it I don’t need 'em |
Everybody with me eating free my niggas 'til I see 'em |
He ain’t dead, we ain’t even jet back, ante up bitch |
Free them boys |
We gon' make it off the Ave, get a half then I shake it |
Some like a bad habit we ain’t have it we gon' take it |
Came up off a fifty slab now my bag big as yappers |
Workers begging me for time off asking me for raises |
Playin' me since I was the accountant, bubble wrap it up and tape it |
All my bitches want allowance, plug asking me for favors |
I been out of town so long had to get reacquainted with the neighbors |
On the block all these cash we been raking |
Way before the rap when I was writing verses |
We was beating up the Ike like I was Tina Turner |
We was loading up the Glock and filling up the hearses |
Now I’m preaching like it’s Sunday trying to teach the sermon |
Trying to teach 'em how to get it fill up they mammas' purses |
So they ain’t standing in front of judge listing to the verdicts |
'Cause we was standing on the block thugging with the serpents |
Get caught with Curtis Blow on me and they gon' close the curtains |
Million-dollar cars you can’t merge in, BasedGod how I got my curse lift |
She gonna play her part so well you thought that she rehearsed it |
Don life worship, holly temple, synagogue, tabernacle, churches |
Look, I can’t even chill I get active, overdoing everything my best and worst |
habit |
Shit be impossible 'til it happens, I never thought I’d see Kobe got before |
Magic |
That taught me first no seconds to waste, only waist I like is her legs wrapped |
around my face |
Fuck you think she doing over here watching Netflix, beard game might just let |
it grow down to my neckless |
I don’t hope for wins I expect it, adrenaline in me like it got injected |
My girl said I got communication issues, no I don’t |
I just don’t like sharing all my problems more than the results |
I bring the plan back to my team tell them go wild |
God, body, my physique, and my profile |
I did every single goal that I wrote down, checked it off it’s old now |
And that shit give me chills, fuck I gotta take yours |
I’m the originator make it then I make more written in stone you can’t forge |
You ain’t on my level even if we in the same building on the same floor |
Oh boy, black out, dough boy, cash out, payroll, contract maxed out, cash kidd, |
cash cow, tapped in, now can’t tap out |
Bitch keep thinking I’m sleeping, it’s Tony on the monitor, I see your ass |
creeping in |
Little bitch, if it weren’t for me you wouldn’t exist, you get the gist? |
Fuck a cease and desist, they shooting up seats in exits, throwing plays to my |
bros, I’m leading the league in assists |
Hop scotch, black top, I ain’t been skipping a step since |
Realist stays, 'zilla every day, bitch I might just change my profession |
Got so many rainy days, it changed my complexion |
Hang up on your ass and say I lost the connection, I turned out to be the man |
that I manifested |
Fuck the bullshit, I ain’t here to make no friends can’t get boo with me |
Since an adolescence I was ignant up in school tripping |
Pistol at my desk I was sitting up in school with it |
Put your bitch hand in my corner pocket play pool with it |
She gonna eat the dick, both balls licked, and do it to me (What else?) |
Ain’t go to college I ain’t want no pussy nigga' rooming with me |
Still coulda went to college Sada ain’t no fool nigga |
Every clip we got extended yellow perkies look like minions |
Put Church’s Chicken on you niggas scrap them boys for half a biscuit |
You know I like the burner but I’ll beat your ass to shit personally |
Hit a nigga in his shit with this fifty or thirty do |
Name a nigga outta the D as solid as me |
I unlocked a lot of dollars nigga knowledge is key |
I did it all without a college degree |
I went from hottest signed artist dondaada to G |
Street lord, Rock bottom, Godfather and P |
D boy, rockwiller Sean sada and T |
Standing on the corner three days phone is on Motorola prepaid |
Theodora or a Gold Ellesses these are ordered from the older East Bay’s |
She either rolling with the owners or the lessee |
A kind man knows a blind man holds grudges |
A wise man knows a wise man knows nothing |
I thought I told you motherfuckers I ain’t need a budget |
I ride with them guys that society begrudges |
We been thuggin worldwide got arenas buzzin |
We survived getting fronted by Ilinea’s cousin |
Before you could sell like Cole and Adale or go NFL be Kobe or Kellz |
The plight of the rich is to throw you in jail |
The fight as been fixed since the opening bell |
And you know who posting your bail who promoting your L |
Who be hoping you fail nigga Oprah and Gayle |
Ignore the hate show the world that we love the opps |
Call the aura great while they make great wrestle docs |
Nah |
Bitch you have never said a clever line ever |
You murdering in the booth is the furthest thing from the truth |
Rest assured I’mma treat this booth like I’m peeling off the plastic |
On a pill bottle, I’m tearing the ceiling off |
Ripping rappers like they were wrapped in Saran, ditch 'em |
I’m strapped up with ammunition and single-handedly taking over the game |
Like I had an actual hand missing but I only need one to clap |
Animal ambition, the only fucking way that you’re strapped is for cash |
Wish you could slap in the damn clip in that motherfucking imaginary little |
hand gun you’re brandishing |
Bitch, if you pull up with the stick it’s a car with a manual transmission |
Chances of loading one that I will overcome my bipolar one |
Voodoo dolls, I’m just poking fun, pins to me are like loaded guns |
When I’m holding one if I’m just fiddling with it |
This motherfucker discharges like me checking myself out of the fucking mental |
hospital |
And I get off like an acquittal, I spit it, you critique it, it feels like I’m |
being belittled by midgets |
It’s like holding a nuke or damn bazooka and walking right up in the middle of |
a little kids fucking pillow fight with it |
You want smoke, I’m like hookah |
Man, I remember back when I used to get jumped for my fucking Pumas, |
run home and go fuck my room up |
These streets will try to vacuum you up that’s why the avenue where I grew up |
was 8 Mile and Hoover (What?) |
'Cause it sucked like a Rumba but even if I would’ve went the Indie route |
I don’t have any doubt I would still get blown like a swindy out |
Shoot 'til the clip is emptied out |
This is the beginning of the ending but I’ll put another clip in and spit these |
rounds |
If I dig deep down but I’m in my bag like Fendi |
Who am I offending now? |
Got so many fucking detractors feels like I’m getting plowed |
Had to put my money on a diet I got too many pounds |
You would think I’m turning pages the way that I’m flipping paper |
Middle fingers them bitches get to waving like friendly neighbors |
I’m talking loot like I’m rioting thing is so big it can’t fit the entire thing |
through a tire swing |
But I don’t think it would be logic to say I’m retiring |
But I should say bye bye or things cause I’m back on Uranus fucking up this |
grinding beat |
I took the pain and learned how to put that shit into a song |
You listen for flaws and strip it and try to pick it apart |
So when I am ripping it’s hard to tell where the impetus |
Really because how I feel about amateurs with the bitch that you are |
Like I never had to get my clothes at fucking St Vincent de Paul |
Like I don’t make sure every sentence and bar with a pencil to sharpen like I’m |
quick on the draw |
So win that Pulitzer Prize like Kendrick Lamar |
You need to walk the Yellow Brick Road and find the chick with the dog cause |
y’all missing a heart |
Plus your bitch is giving out brain like the Wizard of Oz |
This shit is like sitting in the principal office getting scalded for skipping, |
ya’ll got detention |
While I’m severe like Benzo withdrawal, bitch your skin’s gonna crawl |
I’m invincible, I’ve been through it all, like I never thought about just |
ending it |
Until I got pissed off and put a fist through the wall |
While my back was against, now I rap like I’m possessed, that’s nine tenths of |
the law |