🎵 Without Me Freestyle // by NASAAN

4 ContributorsWithout Me Freestyle Lyrics [Intro] Nasaan, I like pawgs Nigga, why is Marshall out fuckin' the youth, put him in the closet Look, nigga, you ain't say shit about a motherfuckin' closet, you just say go get the nigga Hey, Nasaan, we're ready (Fuck) [Verse 1] I created an asshole, dickhead of Detroit But my dick international, enough with the bad jokes My nigga, it's "Nasaan," bitch, quit calling me “Nassan” Balls two of a kind, might unbuckle and flash both Skinny old me with double blondies Double the D’s, eat the meat (Sir, how many?) Party of three, party at three, part of me dying to parting this scene (This shits boring) Clip Michael Jordans, .223’s Trick up my sleeve, grabbing her cheeks ease with these features (You like paint?) Your face great for Mon’ Lisa’s No saint I roll dank with your preacher And rob banks with Rob Banks and John Cena Lucifers henchman, Satanic mission Paul told me join, we do 666 shit (Me?) Fuck on ya big sis? That’s so ridiculous Just coincidence her lipstick on my dick tip Wait, wait I’m honest, wouldn’t lie to you Judah ‘Kay maybe she mooned me like a couple of boobs And she maybe blew me like a orchestra tuba Hold on this my dad, nigga calling from Cuba (Hello?) Fuck my mood up, flush em, suit up Chew up a rap nigga, chump a crew in my chucks My shape isn't in tip top? Then who saving hip hop? (YBN Cordae?) Bitch you sound stupid as fuck [Verse 2] Why you rooting that up? Cause Em and Dre boosting it up? Happy for him to say the least, but niggas doing too much Screwing shit up, like I won’t put that crew on a crutch Fuck these new school niggas, I enroll I’m shooting shit up I get discredit cause my lineage Fuck all that golden child, and pity shit More proud than Penny is West side where niggas bang more tribe than Indians Red dots on niggas like Japanese flag symbolist Now I wake up to Dominicans Asking “What were going to do today?” Like I'm Ferb and they Phineas Swerving out the dealership, working my percentages Came from 44’s, 40 ounces, Carti’s and Timberlands Been on some different shit, different sticks and different envisioning These different Benjamins, britches thick as a business syllabus Gotta different sentiment Swallow me, harder than that cinnamon Army full and bitches and I'm the Marshall Start calling me Eminem Him and him, cut 'em up stitch 'em up, I'm talking hemming em Blending in, can't see me men to men like I’m a Endermen Took my nigga XXXtentacion, but left fucking Zimmerman If I catch him he get “Drum roll please” Brr, brr Vigilance kept me innocent when I was in to shit Was spending bins, before the Benjamins From label middle men Before the LSD, and DMT, Mollies and Ritalin (Hey) Before you mention me in anything thing Make sure your- (Hey) [Outro] -Are you dumb bitchin'? -Nigga, what you want? -We gotta get this white boy out of my closet, he won't shut the fuck up