Yes, yes I must confess I am the best, don’t test…wow I am an awesome rapper, someone give me an award. Lets hear your freestyle now! (I was bored, and feeling like acting immature)
Kick it!
I’m wearing socks
don’t knock
my socks
they rock
I’ll give you something to talk
about
Gimme a shout-
out
Break it down, y’all!
some freestyle:
gawwwwd, he be the man
made us all to his plan
but we nasty we bad
we make him mad
we be sin-sin-sinnin
while the devil grinnin
repent yoself cause judgement comin
apocalypse, gonna send you runnin
word! god’s fresh n’ dope
god’s embodied in da pope
we gotta get togetha and harmonize
gotta get togetha, proselytize!
proselytize!
(I did have to look up how to spell proselytize.)
- Rob
I catch a fag,
3 o’clock in the morn
on the block all alone
and shove a glock to his dome
and tell him “give it up quick,
you nitwit
dont try to get slick
or ima let this 4 5th spit
and leave your shit split
prick”
Bust it
Hey yo, I just left the studio, and it’s about 2 in the morn’
I just finished doin a song
Now I’m ready for sleep
But first I want spaghetti to eat
In this good Italian restaurant right up the street
So I jumped in the jeep, stash the heat under the seat
Then I got a beep
My voice is harsh, barely can speak
I called back on the cell
It’s Coley, mad as hell
He told me to listen well as he started to yell
“I just seen Mike and Ben with your wife and a friend
And they just got a room in the Holiday Inn”
“It’s my wife, you sure?”
“Yeah I’m sure
I saw the whore as soon she walked through the door”
“Yo, say no more, which one?”
“The one in Jersey, son, right over the bridge”
“We goin’ hurt those hoes”
“And hurt both of them kids”
Now I’m in the Range
Switchin lanes, doin a buck 'n change
I can’t wait to touch the lames and them fuckin dames
Reach the destination, grab the heat without no hesitation
These niggas fuckin up my reputation
I saw Coleone holdin the chrome
Ice-grill, lookin like he had a license to kill
And he had somebody else with 'em playin the cup
Lookin like he can’t wait to start sprayin shit up
“Yo, who that in the background?”
“It’s Tommy Giss”
“Oh, I didn’t recognise you with your hat down
Son you ready, we got this whole shit mapped out”
“Yeah, wo goin to take the backroute
And pull our gats out and throw our mask on
We ain’t leavin till everyone’s dead and all the cash gone”
“We goin to get our laugh on when we’re through
But right now we got a job to do”
“So let’s do it”
Hey yo, I stepped to the deskclerk
Put the gat to her dress-shirt
Told her to listen up before she get hurt
“They just walked in, party of four, two chicks, two males
What room they got?”
She paused and said “212”
Took the steps now I’m out of breath
I gotta stop smokin
Them cigarettes goin be the cause of my death
My heart beatin fast now, cause it’s about to pop off
Saw the door, let the glock off, tore the lock off
Took a deep breath, then ran inside at a quick pase
I felt disgraced, I should’ve shot the bitch in the face
Then my other two niggas ran in
Each had a cannon
Ready to take care, how we done planned it
“These two crab cats, we know they hustle upstate”
We know they got stacks
Cause they don’t move with nothin but weight
We got the cuffs and the ducktape and put it to use
Then told 'em when this is over we be lettin 'em loose
“Hey man, I kicked Mike in his face
So I just had your back
You wanna live and tell my nigga where the stash at”
He gave me the address then I ran outside
But first I took the keys to his van outside
And when I got there, I found 50 keys in a stash
A 100 pound of grass, and 2 million in cash
I was dumb glad
The sit didn’t fit in one bag
So I got three, filled ‘em all up to the teeth
And put the bags in the van, then I locked the truck
When I got back, Coley done popped them punks
"Hey yo’, fuck it L, we might as well pop these studs"
Man that’s four bodies
Two outta-towners and two hotties
And after that we ain’t sleep for three days
We hit the PJ’s, split the money threeways
Now we all laughin hard, gettin nice and weeded
Celebratin nigga, heist completed
Gotta get on the grind
Pop in the clip of my nine
And bitch if you slip
You hit the chalk and fall in the night time
Gotta get mine
Ain’t takin no shorts or no losses
Hop on the phone
Callin’ my nigga sin at home
Polishin’ that MAC-10 crome
Gotta a lick so bring yo shit
Cause once again it’s on
To the dome with a fifth of burb
we wig to the curb so we swerve
And rolled out to pick up the triple six thug
And follow the murder for robbin the dooehouse
Smoke jump outta me bong
So high, now comin’ to slay with four grenades and a gauge
I’m a play, watch all ‘em fall in the grave and lay
Pullin’ in the driveway, Wish spotted the place and quickly rolled up
Bulldozed through the living room
Hopped out of the car and started to blow up
Buck, Buck, and a kaboom
Me blew all them bodies all over the room
Them doomed
And gotta move fast, why?
The po-po’s comin’
Snatch up me yummy
So nigga don’t think it’s funny
I’m comin’ up quick in the niine-quat
Cause Flesh be lovin’ this money
I’m given uo love to the hustlas
All them St.Clair thugstas makin’ that money stayin’ on your feet
And you better believe gotta have that cheese
For the green leaves, never catch me sleep
Stay on the grind, get mine
Stayin’ down for mine crime, and I hit up the nine-nine
Givin’ up that llelo, makin’ me sale, twenties nickles and dimes
Beat up and stick up a lick up, that two-eleven
Gotta get what’s mine, then bailin’
Me kickin’ up dust, I’m trailin
Feelin one-eight-seven
That’s how it is, and I gotsta have it in the nine-quat
Mission to check a mill and still be real
Thuggin’ on the glock-glock,creepin on a come up
Won’t sleep till I’m done up
Gotta blaze me blunt up, hunt up another plot and scheme
Gotta make some green, cause soldiers nut up, What up?
Gotta get that buisness on, even though the buddah run me, stun me
Feelin’ lovely, but I’m just in it for he love of the money
You guys are making me look bad
I feel sad
I suck at rap
My freestyling is crap
Hey dont worry that your rhymes are sloppy
The whole section I just pasted was a copy*!
(*Bone~Thugs~N Harmony, “Foe the love of money”)
And so was qwerty’s!
Posting the complete lyrics to songs (no matter how bad they are) is a no-no around here. Just a friendly little reminder from one Doper to another.
Word to ya motha. Or something.
Yo!
Yo?
Yo!
(turn it up, yo!)
From mah head to mah toes
I like bitches ‘n’ hoes
I stick ‘em in through my mouth
And pull ‘em out through my nose
I’m all about cash money
I gots all of da honeyz
And when I’m bustin’ a rhyme
Ain’t no one thinks it’s funny
‘Cause if you do
And I catch you
I bust a cap in yo ass
And leave a mess dat’s bloody!
I sellz drugz fo a livin’
And da props I be givin’
Goes out to mah homiez
‘Cause they mout(h)s be all foamiez
Dey some bad mothafuckaz
You don’ wanna fuck wit dem
Dey’ll waste yo ass
And takes yo wimmenz!
UH! Dat’s what I’m talkin’ 'bout, yo.
Peace out…