Categoria: B

BLP Kosher – Quite Frankly feat. Luh Tyler & Trapland Pat ( Lyrics Lyrics) Letra BLP Intro: Trapland Pat
Welcome back Blake
Xair lemme get that motherfucker
Yeah (doo, doo, doo)

Verse 1: Trapland Pat
We cuttin’ through the Bronx
Home runnin’, think we with the Yankees
Raw paper, championship ring, I got it on my pinky
If you don’t see Luh Tyler, and that Kosher, nigga quite frankly
Trap went and ran them racks up, he just went dressin’ janky

Verse 2: Luh Tyler
I’m in the booth, me and trap on that gas, man this shit stanky
Got your bitch in here, and she throwin’ ass, she keep sayin’ “Spank me”
See, these niggas they ain’t tryna get no bag, don’t know what they thinkin’
Nigga, I ain’t tryna make no friendships ‘cause they get to sinkin’

Verse 3: BLP Kosher
Hoppin’ out on feet, passion pit, I take a walk
Machine gun stays by my side like I’m Megan Fox
Them boys playing air guitar, bitch, I really rock
Spody and Luh Jojo in the cut that’s a butchers block
I’m with Luh Tyler, no creator, odd future turnin’ bright
Under my shirt that shinin’ armor only hittin’ licks at night
That’s a dog fight, I’m breakin’ that shit up like Dana White
Jews name was Mike Cook, he let me cook and pass the mic
Jitter bug, jitterin, I ain’t buggin’, they some lice
Long nights up in that Yoda, had to make a sacrifice
They disrespected ‘til they saw I blew up, now they acting right
We be shining bright, the opps mad, flexin’ moissanite
Verse 4: Trapland Pat
My side bitch from Brooklyn
Pull up from that 3
Hit the net another bookin’
Niggas mad hattin’, quit cappin’ before we hook him
Don’t understand why they hating on my chances when I took them
All my hoes on my roster so bad but I don’t want them

Verse 5: Luh Tyler
Yeah, all my niggas doin’ good but all my bitches bad
Man, I swear these hoes be for the team and they be getting passed
See you ran up a lil’ cash but that ain’t finna last
I be stayin’ in my lane, I ain’t nothin’ like you niggas
Man, my nigga, he insane, got a button on his pistol
I hit that nigga bitch like it’s nothing, bet he miss her
I just jumped up on the mic, then I took off like a missile
I’m a big dawg to you niggas, bet they call me Mister
Can’t get your bitch off me, she sees these diamonds and these crystals
I’ma snap any time you put me on the instrumental
Look at my neck, that bitch on froze, it get cold like December

Verse 6: Trapland Pat
Believe what you see, not what you heard, ‘cause it ain’t in vain
25 thousand grams of swappery I zoed the strain
My Cali’ bih tryna go skiing ‘cause Luh Tyler chain
25 ain’t gon make the cut for that Johnny Dang
I can show you how to make the ends meet if it ain’t circulation
You gon’ have to really lock in, using concentration
If a nigga say he run Deerfield, thats exaggeration
Ski done beat that hat bout that Z, he ain’t even Haitian
Verse 7: BLP Kosher
Pat told me stay from ‘round the trick, he ain’t Odell
Cash rules everything around me like the Carvel
Amy Whinehouse, I’m sippin’ cherry in the motel
Sir smoke a lot of opps, half baked, Dave Chapelle
Speedin’ to that cheese in Saint Pete, but I’m not Russian
Woop dewoo, slid the palm tree with a bakers dozen
He was stretchin’ shit before the fame like he Danny Duncan
Catch him out back and I’ma fry him, that’s a blooming onion
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BLP Kosher – The Nac 3 ( Lyrics ) Letra BLP KOSHER BLP Kosher – The Nac 3 ( Lyrics )

That Cracka broke with no hustle but he blames it on the Jews
Blame it on the boogie Jackson 5 on me too
They smokin doja dreaming bout the cat
I’m tryna make moves
How the fuck can I be claustrophobic lock me in the stu

Dirty Diana I was at the Ross now I won’t dress for less
They was talking shit but now it’s congrats on your success
They want beef zero stress field to fork farm to fresh
There’s plenty fish up in the sea but that shit always comes with a catch

They gave that boy a chance, the rapper that they wouldn’t answer
Poking five deep full house, Danny Tanner
My chopper gay have some respect when I’m in Wilton I got manors
That glock McQueen, Alexander
Let it sing just like the cantor

They won’t forget my silhouette I’m looking through their window
Get these rappers off my dick before I buy they ass a dildo
I don’t give a fuck he’s sending shots. Tell that boy ditto
Dreidel man, hammerhead shark, that boy a fucking minnow

Why you beefing with a kid though
Why you talking to your pillow
I was stretching shit fashitsho
Book the opps, that would be a shit show

I left a mark I call it skid row
Cause they dissing on the big bro
Extended clip, and it look like a hippo
Why they want me to be a sicko

Everybody around me crank, no yes Man
Hundred round drum leave his ass no info
I’ll leave them coins in the chest of a dead man
She a lil nac nac she a lil nympho

Used to jwett, now he do crypto
Tiny Tim I like to tiptoe
Jit was fucked up bout Calypso
Hill bomb em no Francisco

Paul. Revere the ops are coming Imma let them peel
Catch that boy and make him backflip like Jeleel
Saddleback strapped like a horse, but I don’t got concealed
You tryna be gangster I’m a be a star mass appeal

That Cracka broke with no hustle but he blames it on the Jews
Blame it on the boogie Jackson 5 on me too
They smokin doja dreaming bout the cat
I’m tryna make moves
How the fuck can I be claustrophobic lock me in the stu

Dirty Diana I was at the Ross now I won’t dress for less
They was talking shit but now it’s congrats on your success
They want beef zero stress field to fork farm to fresh
There’s plenty fish up in the sea but that shit always comes with a catch

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BLP Kosher – J’s & Z’s feat. Trapland Pat ( Lyricss Lyricss) Letra BLP KOSHER BLP Kosher – [BLP KOSHER:]
(Ooh, shit, that’s a Danny G beat)
(Supreme on the beat)
Water, ayy
Do-do-do

Thai food, I paint the city red and shoot shit like I’m Curry
The way I rap, Helen Keller probably fuckin’ heard me
Forty out the gate, came out the roof, that demolition derby
Demogorgon out the Drac’, that’s a big-ass dirty thirty
He want smoke, surround that boy with water, come to the peninsula
I used to sin, but now my life a movie, I don’t wanna sin no more
I got ‘em tired of that lil’ gas, Ashkenazis in the cut
They say Jewpac back, hit ‘em up
Extendo came from Houston, everything bigger in Texas
Bendin’ all these fuck crackers’ block like it’s Perplexus
Every man for themselves, so why you think my chopper sexist?
I could shoot all them boys, no court ‘cause I’m a weapon
I grab the Visa card and then I peel the car
Zach put ice around my neck, I guess I’m ‘bout to be a star
And when I teach these people how to step, they spread they feet apart
Opp whores, I see them through the scope, they wearin’ leotards
Brother of a villain, the rap reptilian
Tried to sit me down, I’m jumpin’ over benches, Stevie Williams
Layin’ all my opps for all the times I napped inside pavilions
If I don’t like what’s on the table, then I flip it, Keenan Milton
That Glock go yodelayheehoo, but I ain’t Amish, Ashkenazi
Yeah, that thirty on my hip is stuck to me like it’s epoxied
Her daddy hate who? I’m smokin’ deadass Nazis
There’s security at the gate, but ain’t nobody that gon’ stop me
Them boys folded, I could crack ‘em like an egg, but I’ma let them slide
Anti-dreidel, Judeophobic, get they ass desensitized
Tell the opps, “I’m ‘bout to bust your ass, you need exercise”
Opp hoes, I’m goin’ Kevin Gates, they call it sexercise

[Trapland Pat:]
It been a lot on my plate, it’s time to do the dishes
It’s gon’ be a whole lot of traffic on this road to riches
I mix the high with the Robin. I ain’t fill no bucket up with fishes
Every bitch I come across gon’ tote a broom, but I don’t deal with witches
My main man just got jammed for a first-degree
It’s just me and BLP, bae, keep it G, is you gon’ keep it P?
He don’t wanna rap, just wanna spin just like a DVD
I’m at the roundtable, once you stable, you could eat with me
Yeah, Deerfield Beach, we ‘bout to kick the door
Them boys went to stinkin’ up the place, put ‘em in the floor
Jet lag, [?] AirTag on my favorite ho
She be trippin’ when I come around glitchy make me wanna more
Yeah, we got this shit for sale with you on the floor
With my favorite Jew, if you ain’t know, now I bet you know
Every time we get the ball, I call a play and let my Jews score
They gon’ remember us for years, how we write like Edgar Allen Poe (Water)

[BLP KOSHER:]
Them boys Edgar Allen, poor-ass jit, this ain’t a pun
I know nothin’ ‘bout the NRA, but I still keep a gun
I’m from Exit 42, but rock out like Sum 41
I took an L, but now that boy a W man, he fuckin’ won
Potato on the chop, tell ‘em I love you a latke
This my third time back around, I hit the curb like Sandy Baca
Pray I won’t have to release, tryna release my inner chakra
Hit them roaches with them rays, watch them scat, La Cucaracha

[Trapland Pat:]
Yeah, called a pair of 42, you know how we do
Don’t even gotta touch my old stash, all this money new
Rockefeller china, gold planet just like DJ Clue
Penthouse floor, you got the dough, then you can pick a view
Ain’t tryna get no papercut, I love usin’ the money counter
He ain’t follow through with the move, I hit him with a counter
[?]
If you ain’t Exit 41 or 42, then you an out-of-towner

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