Fivio Foreign – London Freestyle Lyrics

Fivio Foreign London Freestyle Lyrics

You would’ve thought I wasn’t gon’ win (You would’ve thought I wasn’t gon’ win)
Roll another opp, blow it in the wind (Baow, grrt)
Yeah, I took a loss, take it on the chin (Baow, yeah)
Hmm, another nigga died, we tell him “Spin” (Grrt, yeah)
If I know he did it, I give him a grin
If I know she with it, I give her a glimpse
I be bustin’ moves, I don’t gotta flinch
Baby, I’m a boss, I could pay your rent
Huh, I’m OC (OC), not OT (Nah, not OT, nah)
I be hypin’ myself in the mirror, like, “Go me”, look, huh
He said he travel, no he don’t (Uh)
State to state, that’s all he know (Skrrt)
I’m out in Paris, by the Rollie store
Got the Gucci slides, with the open toes (Uh)
Huh (Woo), woo (Got the Gucci slides, with the open toes)
Yeah (Haha), yeah, yeah, look (Got the Gucci slides), yeah, look, uh
Nigga, from here on (Nigga, from here on)
A hundred-thousand to clear songs (Yeah)
That nigga die if he stare wrong (Baow)
I’ve been in London for bare long (Yeah)
Bro, this is Fivi’ in rare form (Uh)
I might do the Nikes for a year long (Uh)
All of these diamonds to get on (Uh)
Can’t sit at the table, the cheer gone (Nah)
I got a rich bitch (I got a rich bitch)
And she like rich shit, huh (She like rich shit)
She’ll pay twenty-thousand for a trip
Just to take a fit pic’ (Yeah), huh
If she get it online, she get dismissed (Yeah)
It be comin’ out his mouth, ’cause his lip split (Baow)
[Nigga, what, you ain’t hear me on Big Drip? (What?)
Nigga, I fell in love with a lit bitch (Ayy, ayy, ayy)]
Two guns (Two guns), big clip (Big clip)
Headshot (Headhost), wig split (Wig split)
I call Dala’, he like, “Get, get” (Get, get)
Yeah, them niggas fake, they can’t handle the truth
I pay the stylist to handle the shoes
I take a percy’ to handle my mood
It keep me calm, it help me not to shoot (Grrt, baow)
I gotta win, I got too much to lose (Huh)
Yeah (Yeah), my little shooter got too much to prove (Grrt, baow)
Boom (Ha), I gotta win, I got too much to lose (Yeah)
Ha, my little shooter got too much to prove, huh (Uh, yeah)

Yeah, yeah, T
I been doin’ a lot of label shit
A lot of songs for the radio (Songs for the radio)
A lot of songs for the girls (Songs for the girls)
This here is strictly for the streets (Huh, huh)
I had to feed the streets (Fivi’)
We turnt up, you know what I’m sayin’?
New money, new places
Hahaha, different colors (Different colored money)
They know where I’m from (They know where I’m from)
Huh, they know what I’m on (They know what I’m on)
Huh (Haha), yeah (Yeah), uh (Uh)