Tory Lanez – Memories Don’t Die (Freestyle)

Had to come through, 54, bought the chrome up
Boy, I’m a wild boy, check the style, boy
I’m that fly type, move through the night cocky
It’s four hoes with me, if them four hoes did me, shawty, it won’t be a fifth chance
Listen, look, I been this way, I don’t care how the fuck I’m coming in this way
I used to serve on the strip and watch Seinfield
I switch tags just so I could let my chicks brag
Listen, that’s why I feel I’m the most hot in the place
Ciroc poppin’, shout out my nigga French
Got street ties with the street guys
In a Bentley, tints tucked, Cuban linked up
These fuck niggas say they coming for the kid neck?
I come to the block, above the averages
But, I’ve been in so many life or death situations, I just wanna live it up
So you wanna own, tryna get your own up
Wrist cuts, my wrist slants and I’m in the truck getting jiggy, tryna get up in your chick pants
And down to take his charge when he kill niggas
That hustle all day though he never had a daughter
And it don’t stop
Word to my bald spot
I used to have to stash work in my broad spot
And you can’t afford a bed, layin’ covers on the floor
And my jewels like dipset
Just let me box with that twat, I’ll stick it and move
And we on cam like dipset
Niggas come through, I got them bitches on the CD
We don’t count down on those, that’s a ball drop
He never had a father, he hustle in the corner
And have chicks dripping like the sink in their string thong?
You gon’ do it for mother, lost your brother to the force
And your daughter want that brand new toy
Now I’m on my own, I’m just tryna get my own up
When you come up from the poor, you struggle and you short
Watching out for cops hoping out suburbans on the strip
I got all the bad bitches, more stripes than a zebra
And you momma’s stressing and her blood pressure getting lower
Fuck around, see me magazine, up all up in the features
‘Cause I pop tops like I’m opening some Altoids
Quick drawin’ like you don’t know where my dick going
I’m telling that he wilding tryna truck the shit to Florida
So you on the corner, niggas talking shit and the plug, he keep avoidin’ ya
That why keep fly and chill on the cruise money
Got a hustler chick down to smuggle bricks through the West Indies
Every day you ducking strays tryna run in to the store
I keep a big fifth stashed in the whip dash
One thing is, I ain’t in that lab writin’, nigga everything is off top
And I’m all up in the Champs, and I’m all up in Adidas
I’m prayin’ to the lord, he’s the one that been blessing me
The cops on draw quick fast so my shit stashed
Next nigga diss Tory Lanez ’bout to get shot in his face, nigga
I dropped it off and I picked it up
I’m in the club tryna find a thick chick to fuck
Fucking with her, I’ma have to lift gun up and bang bang ’til the tissue on your hip come up
My ice rocky, nice jocky
Yo, she like the way my wrist dance
Niggas tried to hate, had to bring back the chrome up
She like the way the wrists on my fist dance
[Verse 1]
Out there on your own, but shit, Satan will corner ya
I’m a all around star player
I don’t give a fuck man, you see me on the TV
Cops came, had to stash work in the bra strap
I pull up to the party and I pop chicks in the pool
Tryna make a bitch bow down in the chow chows
Hot chicks say I’m hot and my dick is a jewel
Twin fives put like ten of y’all niggas on shots
Forty fifth on the block, niggas milly rocking
And my Joels all Embiided and I’m feeling all sixered up
I’m with my nigga Ray, my nigga Uno and my nigga GP
Sound wow like Tory puttin’ a thou down
Whole squad looking like we robbed us a Brink’s truck
I don’t give a fuck, y’all nigga know how I be rocking
I’m on my thing and my niggas let them things bark
Niggas think that I’m left hooking and I’m jab writin’
I’m on Funk Flex, ay yo fuck everybody that said, "fuck Flex"
Phone calls and my connect is just a call drop
I’m not a picture painter but I will put a nigga in his own chalk
That French Vanilla is lit and the shit is intense
Bitches wanna fuck it up, now they want to lick it up
He sold four and plus he let a sick team run ’em
I’m a stunna, my wrist done up, my girls got the scar tissue on her tits done up
Man, I remember serving on the strip
I don’t care what niggas talk and how they wan’ talk
Look, I’m the hot kid in the school
Look, I send ’em up and I’ma send a [?] back if they sent ’em up
Make this shit pop like oil in a chrome pot
I leave you on your sweatshirt like Earl died
I send semi’s at any nigga that’s testin’ me
I’ll feel blessed if nigga test and my shooter leave him streched ’til the bones in his spine chill
I had a bad bitches threesomes last night
Working on the strip, chilling with a .30 on my hip
When I spit, niggas think I’m in that lab fightin’
They gon’ watch me like we on the DVD
Turn it up a little bit
I’m ill nigga, this is not a time drill
I click fast and blang your bitch ass
Every time a nigga switch hands
I’m a real baller, you a towel boy
I’m on indictment with a bad lightskin
Yeah, uh

Big chain on me in case I gotta get you inked up
Bitch dance
Just a ladder and a roofer that’ll drill niggas
And they attached to the arms like wrist bands
They man hear about it next day and wan’ get me touched
And my guns and shooters on quickstands
I keep a Tommy on my body but when you see me, I ain’t wearin’ Hilfigher
Tory Lanez got the block on whiplash
Bitch pass if you ain’t lettin’ the clique smash
I ding dong ditch bitches when the fling gone
I fucked around and dubbed ’em
I hate niggas that lie and move funny
Bitch, I look so good, even the dykes watch me
Even if they fly on G5s, they’ll kill you for a G5
I’m more wavy than a surfer on a curl tide
I spent nights in that cold for that hard paper
Niggas hatin’ on me, ’cause they see me and I’m gettin’-
Brain from your chick in the whip that I just crashed
Like I ain’t been up in your chick dorm since the flip phones
We ain’t talking ’bout a verse when it’s a sixteen coming (check)
So you in the only son to keep the loving in the core
Wrink up, see the wrist roller wrinked up
I’m a real nigga
With a mink on and four fingers that my rings on
Y’all niggas lose money, y’all niggas just snooze money
I’m a lot of y’all father like Darth Vader
And you a bitch, even lookin’ from your girl’s eyes
I don’t give a fuck, my niggas
Come on akh, pretendin’ y’all niggas on block
XXL ain’t want me on the cover, next year they came around
I let the .9 spill
Don’t you know I sing songs with a mink on
Look, I do this for that youngin’ on the corner
But niggas love to hustle, it’s aura
It was mad riches, all my niggas savages
Just look at my blood, my shit is just ooze money
Man, after all my neck and wrist is all glittered up
My dawg copped twenty birds, and they just keep coming
Trip, catch six in a second like quick flash
Niggas whole swag ain’t half my chicks bag
But it’s hard to show her that you broke and can’t afford it
I’ll hustle ’til it’s nothing left in me, and the plug hear ’bout me and gotta invest in me
No jokes, those’ll get you smoked like quick drag
We could do it however y’all niggas wan’ rock
You would thinks the guns designer, they way they come in rip pants
And your block? It ain’t hot, man it’s safe
A lot of niggas saying they hot but they not in the place
But yo, I got a sick set
My whole stretch from south France to Brisbane
I’ll put ’em in the future, no Elroy
Breath minty and fresh Fendi
So you wanna hustle and you tryna get your coin up
Fuck niggas know I charge for my hard labour
Whole team of shooters, bunch of Steph Curries in my clique
Fifteen hunnid, my FN gunning
My dawg got a twenty on him and a semi tucked
Any cat that know Lanez know I’m worldwide
Chain rain so much water they think we ’bout to have lightning
So much maple leaf money, niggas think I’m playing ice hockey
I got a ill lil’ shooter out in Brownsville down for the wild deal
Give you dog shots like I’m checking in a sick pet