Ambalamb (feat. KXNG Crooked & DJ Flipcyide) (Original mix)

D1C3 & KXNG Crooked & DJ Flipcyide

Ambalamb
Ambalamb
D1C3
DJ Flipcyide
Rival
KXNG Crooked

Yo
Let’s go to the city
where violent criminals run s**t
Misery loves company
Watch my miserable gun spit
Physicals front flip
Hit the tip of your chin bone
Get a kick from the timbo
I don’t mean timbalands drum kick
Move like a sniper do
Like a psycho with a rifle
I’m just deciding your life for you
Other side I will slide you to
Run and hide I will find you
Put slugs inside you to stifle you
I should write for you
F**k it I’ll ghost write your cypher too
Because my pen is too godly
I’m dropping big facts
Nobody can stop the impact
Or proper syntax
And driving big lacs and rockin pimp hats
I’ll be concocting sick raps
Chop the track with a pick axe
I’ve been dropping that sick a*s flow forever
For ever ever
Will I retire like Andre? That’s never
never land
I’m moon walking in the sand
It’s a Long Beach thing
Y’all probably don’t understand

Call the Ambalamb
Ima strike the iron when it’s hot
Pray to God, ima take it to the top
Somebody better call the Ambalamb
Ima give it everything I got
I won’t stop, put the record in a box
You should probably call the
Ambalamb
Ambalamb

I keep cohen (goin’) Sasha baron
precision savage, I chop an atom
split it, leave you f**ers pist-on
like Blake griffin and killed in the same sittin
it’s fate when I bake mics
I odee on the f**in beat like I’m
ike when he spanks women
beat said to beat up the box
I part the sea like a God
f**k it and leave for the top
she want the knot, I pop a stone on her
back like a heated massage
Waving this pistol pissed
like half of you shouldn’t even exist
so I flash that s**t like K.Michelle wit her t*ts
While I’m Mackin her, grip her scapula
clapping her back and blastin her
From the back, in the a*s
In the back of a black Acura
Y’all holdin weight like calorie fastin
that’s why we pass your girl around the masses like a charity basket
While ripping you dudes, splittin
get ate like a Soup kitchen
cause I’m airing out you fools
like a Coupe with its roof missin
No oops when the tool spittin
y’all goofs get your loot stripped
wit ya jewels while your troops dippin
I’m rude wit it, good riddance

Call the Ambalamb
Ima strike the iron when it’s hot
Pray to God, ima take it to the top
Somebody better call the Ambalamb
Ima give it everything I got
I won’t stop, put the record in a box
You should probably call the
Ambalamb
Ambalamb