MAINO - Banned From The Radio lyrics

rate me

They can't fuck with us nigga

Drewski!

Ridin’ on these niggas, they already know what it is and what we about

What we about nigga?!

Cipha Sounds what's up nigga, yeah

Regardless the rain or snow, sleet or hail

I kick street tales

Meet the devil when I see hell

And by a state

Pullin’ your faith in the palm of my hands

Blow you away if you ain't part of the fam

The realest nigga in the game

Tattoos cover my pain

Eyes closed still holdin’ my aim

Sweatsuit, gold rolly and chain

Dope dealer shit

Black fist, on him,Hussein

That's killer shit

Street nigga, speak for the crooks

Give me feminine looks

Cocksucka I'm the king of the brook[

Dress like I'm the city. Pop!

Fuck the whole radio.Pop!

Fuck these other niggas that they ride for the city though

Henny, white, no ice

Eat only five-star caviar

No jobs given

In the ride an Apple Macintosh

Take connection

Second-guessing get your melon caved in

Then we celebratin’

Hit your shorty while he level playin’

Do it for the streets nigga

Do it for the tweets

I'm a corner-store nigga

I just rap off the beef

Raise the hurt, leave them double dead

I'm a bubble head

I never listen to nothin’ my mother said

Poppy like Camacho

Boxin, duckin vanachos

Watch,they call me guapo

Pockets fatter than sauco...

The weed: color purple

Beat the pussy like Harpo

Deadly with the manos

I'll give you all a ...

Four-wheel drive with the piece on me

Coke boys got in lots with the streets homie

They frontin’ live with a weak omen

Whole chicken broke down, move that less than a week homie

Courtside seats bought my own whistle

Three-quarter mink, bad to the bone gristle

When your team up, niggas wanna ball with you

No hammer but I bet you got them hoes with you

Bald-head no lockout, go hard no cop out

Just watch your back then jump out

Boys gonna hop out

High-school dropout, figured how to get it on the stove

Pull up to my old school with the drop out

Dope boy swag to the max

Troy Ave motherfucker and I'm dealin with facts

Not made for TV, but I'm on TV

J-Ro the deep, motherfucker you see me?

Self-made, self-paid, that's boss

Twitter DM's from the boy Rick Ross

No contract but I deal

Cocaine, still shit real, I am ill

Count on my Bendo's

Got it off lend though

New York City

To the big homies my hand do

Adidas deal, I have never been checked

Show me my respect or get shown Wally wet motherfuckers

Yeah, it's Mack

There ain't a nigga that you know more thorough than this

It's a shame, cuz a singer killin' more than your bitch

Bust off and let the hot barrel sit on her lips, heh

And that's just me up on some ignorant shit

I got a couple motherfuckers gettin’ rich as a bitch

As I put my city back with the music and shit

Guess I'm the

Most imitated

Grammy-nominated

Hotel accommodated

Cheerleader prom dated

I put my city on my back, I'm never overrated

The young Samo, loading up all his ammo

Vandalize every time Cipha put me on fuckin wax

Catchin’ bodies, TV now on the fuckin track

Ayo, a few ways out of the hood

I think about it while I'm ravelin 'woods

The haze round, but I'd rather the kush

I get it soft, I was grabbin’ the cook

Fresh off the block to this rap

That's a real good look

And I just had a brand new kid

I need money for some diapers and a brand new crib

Being broke, this shit hurt like a brand new bid

That's why I cut the dope twice and I'm still in the biz, nigga, uh

Eything; real shit

Fuckin’ with the boy for

Real flint, keep my circle tight

Cuz they'll swell quick

Niggas stylin’

Guns on us be wilin’

Resorts in the island

The belts is Italian