No Jumper
Rofashow
GENRE
No Jumper (Feat. T.Rabb) Lyrics
(Rofashow Verse)
Aye, When Talking’ the greats, make sure I’m properly placed
I feel like I’m playin’ S.K.A.T.E
Hitting all of these tricks that y’all niggas can’t
I think that’s why they hate
Yo, I am the wrong one to talk bout
One of my homies a opp now
Giving these bars to the people that’s close to me
Just like a personal hotspot, I want the money, I got clout
Snap every time that i am on a verse
Nobody seein the kid, I feel like we maybe should put out a Amber Alert
I spit right over the chorus, Yo i got a chick in the Norf
I’m getting under they skin, yo I’m posted all in they pores
Was rapping outside the Bellagio
Way before Drake at the Billboard Awards
I’m tryna get on, I wish it would happen already
Yo Rabb are you ready?
The whole crew washed like Fabolous Freddy’s
I’m pulling’ strings, Spaghetti
Yo I’m bout to be at the telly recording
What I’m doing out in Brazil?
I know somebody who sold they soul to the devil, I hope they back out of the deal
I know somebody better hit up Vanessa and tell her I need to make XXL
I sent Rabb, The instrumental because I did not wanna kill it myself
Nah, I’m for real
If you tryna work, gone and send me something, I’ma kill it fuck it, If it’s in the budget
Walk into the lab, I’m leaving with a body
Like them hoes out in Dominican Republic
I was just talkin’ to Critter
He said I’m one hell of a spitter
Flow nasty, you would think that I just literred but I really didn’t
Was still getting Blowies from Zoe even though I was broken up with her
Yea, Bad hoes hit me on twitter
This hoe sent me a pic of her clitoris, Woah
Writin’ till 9 in the morning, nobody be writing it for me, Yuh
I might go and hit California, I be making moves when I’m goin, Yuh
I don’t need anymore friends I already exceeded the quota
I really be rappin’ for real, I don’t feel the need to be trollin’ Yea
(T.Rabb Verse)
Look who back with the ballin’
Back with the calling’ plays
Back to rapping’ like back when i was stuck in my Harlem phase
It’s a scare on every twist and turn like a haunted maze
Where I’m raised, the city of snakes
No time for mouse play
I step in the booth and i renovate, make the ceiling raise
I be eating beats off a dinner plate, gave my pen a break
I write in my head like its a comeback after arguments
Editing the lines, I should’ve said I’m thinking far from this
Pick a nigga apart like the Autozone
I’m in my whip with “Tha Carter” on
I put the “F’ in the “Norf” He been mobbin’ since Doug was on
Hits on the way like the Raider dome
I’m who they hatin’ debating on
In my hotel with the Sega on, back on the Dreamcast
If rapping a sport, this the league pass
Treat the mic like its a speed bag
You gotta give me space
I’m cooking, It’s burning the interface
We saving the session before a crash
Boy evacuate fast, ain't nothin’ safe
I’m rapping the bombs it might detonate (BOOM)
If sweat in my palms, I radiate (Sweat)
I’m in the stu wit a hazmat
Sleep a nigga out his dad hat (SLEEP)
I flew to LA in my Royals for Royalty Checks
Like Craig Ranch Courts
Be ready to fight if you think you calling’ out next
Lets Run up the scores, All of my sweet 16’s gone cut up the net
I’m Larry Johnson on the boards
30 for 30, Rabb going for 30 we set!
My 6th man on the floor
Don’t play with the ghost
You think you seeing the kid? Must be hallucinogens
Murder he wrote, Aiming the scope at his wig
I see a bitch in the lense
Camo my coat, We goin ape over Yen
I’ll out a zip on his head, blade to his throat
Bro was just runnin’ from Slots, You niggas can’t gamble no mo’
That counterfeit bread, you niggas be flexing for feds
I don’t believe nothin’ you said
BM in my bed
I swear i heard bout it, on fire, ghostwriter
She flame wit the kid (These rappers is trash)
The slap in my hand like a JBL speaker, I’m close to the edge. (They thought I was dead)
I told the lil nigga I’ll fight em’
The hoe started dissin’ instead (He drunk off a keg)
I’m giving’ Miller the que, The chopper gone take off his leg. (He shootin’ like who?)
The family pull up like Purdue
Picture me lower, its Res
He raisin’ his crew, take off a pixel or two
Drop em and pick up his chain
We really could feud, see em in person he mute
Put some respect on my name!
(Rofashow Verse)
Aye, When Talking’ the greats, make sure I’m properly placed
I feel like I’m playin’ S.K.A.T.E
Hitting all of these tricks that y’all niggas can’t
I think that’s why they hate
Yo, I am the wrong one to talk bout
One of my homies a opp now
Giving these bars to the people that’s close to me
Just like a personal hotspot, I want the money, I got clout
Snap every time that i am on a verse
Nobody seein the kid, I feel like we maybe should put out a Amber Alert
I spit right over the chorus, Yo i got a chick in the Norf
I’m getting under they skin, yo I’m posted all in they pores
Was rapping outside the Bellagio
Way before Drake at the Billboard Awards
I’m tryna get on, I wish it would happen already
Yo Rabb are you ready?
The whole crew washed like Fabolous Freddy’s
I’m pulling’ strings, Spaghetti
Yo I’m bout to be at the telly recording
What I’m doing out in Brazil?
I know somebody who sold they soul to the devil, I hope they back out of the deal
I know somebody better hit up Vanessa and tell her I need to make XXL
I sent Rabb, The instrumental because I did not wanna kill it myself
Nah, I’m for real
If you tryna work, gone and send me something, I’ma kill it fuck it, If it’s in the budget
Walk into the lab, I’m leaving with a body
Like them hoes out in Dominican Republic
I was just talkin’ to Critter
He said I’m one hell of a spitter
Flow nasty, you would think that I just literred but I really didn’t
Was still getting Blowies from Zoe even though I was broken up with her
Yea, Bad hoes hit me on twitter
This hoe sent me a pic of her clitoris, Woah
Writin’ till 9 in the morning, nobody be writing it for me, Yuh
I might go and hit California, I be making moves when I’m goin, Yuh
I don’t need anymore friends I already exceeded the quota
I really be rappin’ for real, I don’t feel the need to be trollin’ Yea
(T.Rabb Verse)
Look who back with the ballin’
Back with the calling’ plays
Back to rapping’ like back when i was stuck in my Harlem phase
It’s a scare on every twist and turn like a haunted maze
Where I’m raised, the city of snakes
No time for mouse play
I step in the booth and i renovate, make the ceiling raise
I be eating beats off a dinner plate, gave my pen a break
I write in my head like its a comeback after arguments
Editing the lines, I should’ve said I’m thinking far from this
Pick a nigga apart like the Autozone
I’m in my whip with “Tha Carter” on
I put the “F’ in the “Norf” He been mobbin’ since Doug was on
Hits on the way like the Raider dome
I’m who they hatin’ debating on
In my hotel with the Sega on, back on the Dreamcast
If rapping a sport, this the league pass
Treat the mic like its a speed bag
You gotta give me space
I’m cooking, It’s burning the interface
We saving the session before a crash
Boy evacuate fast, ain't nothin’ safe
I’m rapping the bombs it might detonate (BOOM)
If sweat in my palms, I radiate (Sweat)
I’m in the stu wit a hazmat
Sleep a nigga out his dad hat (SLEEP)
I flew to LA in my Royals for Royalty Checks
Like Craig Ranch Courts
Be ready to fight if you think you calling’ out next
Lets Run up the scores, All of my sweet 16’s gone cut up the net
I’m Larry Johnson on the boards
30 for 30, Rabb going for 30 we set!
My 6th man on the floor
Don’t play with the ghost
You think you seeing the kid? Must be hallucinogens
Murder he wrote, Aiming the scope at his wig
I see a bitch in the lense
Camo my coat, We goin ape over Yen
I’ll out a zip on his head, blade to his throat
Bro was just runnin’ from Slots, You niggas can’t gamble no mo’
That counterfeit bread, you niggas be flexing for feds
I don’t believe nothin’ you said
BM in my bed
I swear i heard bout it, on fire, ghostwriter
She flame wit the kid (These rappers is trash)
The slap in my hand like a JBL speaker, I’m close to the edge. (They thought I was dead)
I told the lil nigga I’ll fight em’
The hoe started dissin’ instead (He drunk off a keg)
I’m giving’ Miller the que, The chopper gone take off his leg. (He shootin’ like who?)
The family pull up like Purdue
Picture me lower, its Res
He raisin’ his crew, take off a pixel or two
Drop em and pick up his chain
We really could feud, see em in person he mute
Put some respect on my name!
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