Freak On The Loose

Performed by

B-Reft

Produced by

Kacey Bridges

Lyrics

Yoyo, Kacey...
We're loud on the base...
And I ain't in the mood for an intro on this one,
You're feelin' me? Just let it loose...

Some of you people have a problem with everything that I try
With all the things that I think of and the things that I write;
Well, I'ma sing till I die; and if you dare to screw faces
I'ma hang you by your ankles; strangled you with shoe laces!
Don't tell me that my shit ain't worth a Mic at The Source,
'Cause I could paint my face white and win The White Rapper Show;
So roll out the red carpet and start squeezing yo Limo
'Cause I'ma beat yo SoundScan figures by releasing a Demo!
Maybe your mixtape success got you thinkin' you're tall
Bought you blings and a car and bitches cling to your balls;
But then my shit's in the mall and it ch-chings to the mob
And these kids like my shit and in a wink you are small!
You may think you'll only gain your 2nd wind when I fall
'Cause I'm the fink tha'chu call girls can't pin when I ball;
And I don't hide behind the color of my skin when I brawl
So bring yo shit to me, bitch, 'cause I got ink for you all...

Freak on the loose, it's... On the news; Yes,
I'm the nuisance... On the move;
And I'm not the dude that... You want to fool with;
Pull some bull shit... And I'll eat you fool!
Freak on the loose, it's... On the news; Yes,
I'm the nuisance... On the move;
And I'm not the dude that... You want to fool with;
Pull some bull shit... And I'll eat you fool!

I'm sick of watchin' some wussy rappers making releases
Wish I could stamp on their CD case and break it to pieces;
May be you got yoself a deal but try and read your own shit
Man, it seems like it was ghost-written by three year old kids; (damn)
It ain't nothin but truth that I've told in this track
You still hate me? Go do it, no one's holdin' you back
'Cause you're so blinded by intentions of topping the charts
You dump your shit over the difference between Pop & Hip-Hop!
Knock it off! Yalla flowin' like some sixth grade students
Makin' mixtapes, you need proof, my shit may've proved it;
I'm a big slave to this shit, put week days to it to get
My sick thoughts stuck in you like sick lead bullets;
And I ain't scared of shit when I spit tracks bullies
So better sit back you dig that? Dig that fully?
'Cause if you pricks act foolish, I'ma pick that, roulette
I'll revolve it 360, do the click-clack, pull it...

Think I rap to trap bitches, or the fame that I can have?
Or mug up a couple lines just to claim that I can rap?
Or is it because I see through shit that you cannot perceive
That I'm responsible to share thoughts that you cannot conceive?
Lost my sleep making rhymes, broke a wrist doing a break,
Then I get responses like, "The shit he's doin' is fake
That line, I don't remember, but someone else has said it"
I bet you won't remember shit, 'cause I'm the one, you get it?
Got a bruise on my ankle dragging the weight of you critics
But I'm not backing up from rapping haters I get what the trick is;
Prick my brain with your tongue; put it to test every second
'Cause that's the shit that drags me to my desk at Eleven;
And I don't expect you to stomach every thought that I share
So escape it by sayin', "The headphone's blocking my ear";
And cavil at my verse and stomp the ground and frown
I'll tell you what, squit, you can't keep the brown man down!

Err... I just don't seem to feel better...
And let it be known that I ain't meanin' no offence to anybody
Unless you are someone I'm tryin' to offend, you feelin' me?
All I'm wantin' to say is: "Stop doubtin' me man!"
You know how it feels to be trapped out here?
Exactly how? Naa...
The only thing you know about trapped is that 2Pac song, don't you?
What about me baby? What about me?
Shit... You don't even know my name...
My name is B-Reft... B-R-E-F-T
With a hyphen in between the 'B' and the 'R'...
It's B-Reft... B-R-E-F-T...

Freak On The Loose

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