Artist: Notorious B.I.G. Album: Born Again * Song: Who Shot Ya * originally from the 'Big Poppa' vinyl 12" Intro: Puff Daddy As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers -- 2X As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers BIG - Now turn the mics up Turn that mic up, yea that beat is knockin to that microphone Turn that shxt the fuck up Uh, what? Turn it up louder Yea, uh As we proceed, to give you what you need J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Verse One: Who shot ya? Seperate the weak from the ob-solete Hard to creep them Brooklyn streets It's on nigga, fuck all that bickering beef I can hear sweat trickling down your cheek Your heartbeat soun like Sasquatch feet Thundering, shaking the concrete Finish it, stop, when I foil the plot Neighbors call the cops said they heard mad shots Saw me in the drop, three in the corner Slaughter, electrical tape around your daughter Old school new school need to learn though I burn baby burn like Disco Inferno Burn slow like blunts with ya-yo Peel more skins than Idaho potato Niggaz know, the lyrics molestin is takin place Fuckin with B.I.G. it ain't safe I make your skin chafe, rashes on the masses Bumps and bruises, blunts and Landcruisers Big Poppa smash fools, bash fools Niggaz mad because I know that Cash Rules Everything Around Me, two glock nines Any motherfucker whispering about mines And I'm, Crooklyn's finest You rewind this, Bad Boy's behind this Interlude: As we proceed to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers get live motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need East coast motherfuckers Bad Boy motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Smoke blunts motherfuckers Get high motherfuckers Ready to die motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Verse Two: I seen the light excite all the freaks Stack mad chips, spread love with my peeps Niggaz wanna creep, got ta watch my back Think the Cognac and indo sack make me slack? I switches all that, cock-sucker G's up One false move, get swiss cheesed up Clip to Tec, respect I demand it Slip and break the, 11th Commandment Thou shalt not fuck with raw C-Poppa Feel a thosand deaths when I drop ya I feel for you, like Chaka Khan I'm the don Pussy when I want Rolex on the arm You'll die slow but calm Recognize my face, so there won't be no mistake So you know where to tell Jake, lame nigga Brave nigga, turned front page nigga Puff Daddy flips daily I smoke the blunts he sips on the Bailey's on the rocks, tote glocks at christenings And my cock, in the fire position and... (Get live motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers) C'mere, c'mere [it ain't gotta be like that Big] open your fucking mouth, open your... didn't I tell you don't fuck with me? [*muffled* c'mon man] Huh? Didn't I tell you not to fuck with me? (as we proceed) [c'mon man] Look at you now (to give you what you need) Huh? [c'mon man] (9 to 5 motherfuckers) Can't talk with a gun in your mouth huh? (get live motherfuckers) Bitch-ass nigga, what? (get live motherfuckers) [*muffled sounds, six gun shots*] (as we proceed...) Who shot ya? Outro: Puff Daddy ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get live motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) Get high motherfuckers Ready to Die motherfuckers Hah!! As we proceed... (Who shot ya?) ...to give you what you need 9 to 5 motherfuckers East coast motherfuckers (Who shot ya?) West coast motherfuckers... West coast motherfuckers... hah! As we proceed, to give you what you need As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers Get money motherfuckers As we proceed to give you what you need Get live motherfuckers 9 to 5 motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers J.M. motherfuckers As we proceeeeeeed To give you what you need... 9 to 5...

Artist: Notorious B.I.G. Album: Life After Death Song: What's Beef? The Commission Uncle Paulie, Big Ditti Caesar Leo DeGenero (yeahhh) Charlie Baltimore, Iceberg Slim The most shadiest, Frank Baby We here (do you know what beef is?) We ain't goin nowhere (do you know what beef is?) Uh-uh (ask yourself, do you know what beef is?) Uh-uh, uhh Ha ha ha ha ha, check out this bizarre rapper style used by me, the B.I.G. I put my key you put your key in, money we'll be seein Will reach the fuckin ceiling, check, check it My Calico been cocked (uh-huh) this rap Alfred Hitchcock drop top notch playa hating won't stop (uhh) This instant, rappers too persistant Quick to spit Biggie name on shxt, make my name taste like ass when you speak it, see me in the street your jewelry you can keep it, that be our little secret See me, B that is, I that is, G whiz Motherfuckers still in my biz Don't they know my nigga Gutter fuckin kidnip kids? (uhh) Fuck em in the ass, throw em over the bridge (oooh) That's how it is, my shxt is laid out (what) Fuck that beef shxt, that shxt is played out (played out) Y'all got the gall, all I make is one phone call All y'all dissapear by tomorrow All your guns is borrowed, I don't feel sorrow Actually, your man passed the gat to me, now check this What's beef? Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep Beef is when your moms ain't safe up in the streets Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU, one more time What's beef? Beef is when you make your enemies start your Jeep Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU, check it I done smoked with the best of em (uh-huh) shot at the rest of em (uh-huh) Was about a hundred or more, maybe less of em Got my rocks off, that nigga from the Brook just be whylin on you just be, stylin on you (you so crazy) When I, tried to warn you but your eyes fucked up Now I cleared them shxts with hits you on the fuckin bench (mmm) Pardon my French but ahh, sometimes I get kinda peeved at these, weak MC's (don't stop) with the supreme baller like, lyrics I call em like I see em G Y'all niggaz sound like me (yeah) Y'all was grimy in the early nineties, far behind me It ain't hard to find me number one with the booyaka (booyaka) Gimme the Remi and the chronic ain't no tellin what I do to ya (I do to ya) It's obvious the game's new to ya (new to ya) Take them ends you make (ehehe) and spend em on a tutor hah, one shot, I'm through with ya What's beef? Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep (don't sleep) Beef is when your moms ain't safe up in the streets (ain't safe) Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU (I see you) one more time What's beef? (What's beef) Beef is when you make your enemies start your Jeep (Start my Jeep) Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep (thirty deep) Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU, check it (I see you) There'll be nothin but smooth sailin (sailin) When I spit shots, now your crew's bailin (bailin) All I got is heat and tough talk for you (uh-huh) Tie you up, cut your balls off just to use (oooh) Man listen straight torture, look what that slick shxt bought ya A first class ticket to Lucifer, real name Cristopher Watch me set it off like Vivica Here lies your demise, close your eyes (uh-huh) Think good thoughts, die while your skin start to glisten Pale blue hands get cold, your soul's risen It's bad cause I just begun, what make the shxt real bad I was havin fun (ahaha!) What's beef? (What's beef?) Beef is when you need two gats to go to sleep (Don't sleep) Beef is when your moms ain't safe up in the streets (ain't safe) Beef is when I see you Guaranteed to be in ICU, one more time (I see you) What's beef? (What's beef?) Beef is when you make your enemies start your Jeep (Start my Jeep) Beef is when you roll no less than thirty deep (thirty deep) Beef is when I see you (I see you) Guaranteed to be in ICU, and I'm through (Yeah, and I'm through) Uhhh, uhhh It's like that (Now ask yourself, do you really, know what beef is?) Like that (Then ask yourself) Uhh (Do you really, want beef?) Like that, like that *echoes* (Ahahaha! Yeah, I like that) (Big Nash, hit me baby, on and on and on and on) (Bad Boy) (Y'all know what it is) (Shit, I don't want no beef, ahaaa!)

Artist: Nas Album: Stillmatic Song: Ether [gunshots] [Nas talking] ("Fuck Jay-Z" ) What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talkin 'bout me dog You, what? ("Fuck Jay-Z" ) You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga ("Fuck Jay-Z" ) [Chorus] (I) Fuck with your soul like ether (Will) Teach you the king you know you (Not) "God's son" across the belly (Lose) I prove you lost already Brace yourself for the main event Y'all impatiently waitin It's like an AIDS test, what's the results? Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy I embrace y'all with napalm Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone How could Nas be garbage? Semi-autos at your cartilege Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne I got this, locked since '9-1 I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas With Hawaiin Sophie fame, kept my name in his music Check it [Chorus] [talking] Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fuckin ring [Chorus] I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten Y'all just piss on me, shxt on me, spit on my grave (uh) Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face Y'all some well wishin (bitches), friendly actin envy hidin snakes With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take? When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle This for dolo and his manuscript just sound stupid When KRS already made an album called "Blueprint" First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big Dick suckin lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live [talking] (I....not...lose) "God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already The king is back, where my crown at? (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas [Chorus] Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother You traded your soul for riches My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it You seem to be only concerned with dissin women Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly? Well life is harsh, hug me, don't reject me or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly In '88 you was gettin chased through your buildin Callin my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers All I did was gave you a style for you to run with Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god Wearin Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin with little Chase You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic? Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shxt you need to learn though That ether, that shxt that make your soul burn slow Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy? Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy Rockefeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after? Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas? Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss What you think, you gettin girls now 'cause of your looks? Ne-gro please You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat Compared to Beans you wack And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hangin with Kane, to Irv, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shxt You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick So little shorty's gettin gunned up and clapped quick How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips? Wanted to be on every last one of my classics You pop shxt, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss

Cam'ron diss 50 Song : Curtis (50 Cent Diss) camron The truck or the Lambi, Cam be stuffed in some candy This aint a label Curtis Im fuckin with family See my squad done wait right behind them bars thats gated Hopped out the casket bastard, reincarnated Yep, so have a seat, this gon be a masterpiece I have to beef, he look like a gorilla, with rabbit teeth Bugs monkeys, act hard, with a crack god, that mack broads That video aint Queens, its your backyard Curtis, its messin with your head bad You that mad but dag thats security with red flags ? You bangin five shootin rocks and signs my way Fine play I keep it neutral but my familys nine,trey Soo woo, my A-alikes, that stay to fight, from day to night When I smack the Lighty brothers Dave and Mike Huh, believe me hoe, you cant G me though Jimmy aint the President, he the C.E.O. Zeek is the President Its evident hell cock and spray Santana underboss, I sign off like Dr. Dre I fuck with Zoe Pound too what up ? Sak Pase ? Grab the cocoa ( ?) rockaway I extended the clip, never be friends with you pricks Shout to a real Queens dude, you know Kenneth McGriff He ran from police, you run with police You aint from Southside, you bout to get ya mouth wired chorus camron Curtis !!! (Rewind it DJ) Curtis !!! (You aint 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis !!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis !!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) Curtis !!! (Uh ! Rewind it DJ) Curtis !!! (You aint 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis !!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis !!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) camron Aiyyo, check the tail girls break they neck and nails Just for me to sex they tail but lets talk record sales Juelz eight hundred, Jim fo hundred I copped more cribs, more cars, got more blunted Yeah I rocked The ROC so stop it, doc you coppertop My niggas watch em ball, your dudes I watched em flop Yep, so beware, dog Im tryin to be clear Banks bricked, Mobb bricked, Buck aint been out for three, years Let me be fair, I hop up off a sweet Leer Right to Lennox aint no sand, but Im on my beach chair These are not tales, and dog we not frail You dont club in New York you party out in Scottsdale Huh, I cant be clowned, beef dog, hot damn we down How you livin ? You live in Tysons hand me down Plus you cant be found Ill have you take ya actin bound Ask around, I never liked the circus so I clap a clown chorus camron Curtis !!! (Rewind it DJ) Curtis !!! (You aint 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis !!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis !!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) Curtis !!! (Uh ! Rewind it DJ) Curtis !!! (You aint 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis !!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis !!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) camron Aiyyo man, thanks for all the shoutouts, for my dudes You keep shoutin em I love it baby them my brothers I aint hear you say Banks name in a minute Talkin bout Koch a graveyard you just signed off for Prodigy to go there Aiyyo P he a sucker, get away from that dude B, you aint got no swag with buck teeth You know how you aint got no swag ? Whoever let you sign off on them G-Unit tank tops is stupid just like yo dumb ass !!! Them is brasiere tops, whoever wore that outside was a homo, gay ass nigga !!! Aiyyo stop callin my probation officer to, why you talkin bout my probation ? You tryin to get me locked up Curtis ?! Aiyyo Curtis you really tryin to get me locked up ? You said somethin about my probation on your song Next thing I know my probation officer call me today said he need to see me Aiyyo if I go to jail, Curtis put me in jail !!!! Its crazy I gotta go report to probation, next Thursday I aint supposed to report for three weeks I gotta go Thursday and he mention my probation Aiyyo let me get off this mic now cause I know how you get down, rat ass nigga !!! Thats true story thats not even a joke Im dead serious...

CamRon Song : Got to Love It (Jay-Z Diss) CamRon Uh Dipset ! Fore I set it off O.K. First off, you a bitch nigga Only reason Im doin this, Ima jus name 5 reasons real quick, got a hundred fifty First - you stole Rocafella from Dame Second - you stole Kanye from Dame Third - you stole Rocawear from Dame Forth - I seen the nigga throw that diamond up before them shots was fired Fifth - hold on, turn the beat off I had to turn the beat off for this You talkin bout you a 80s baby You 37 years old, you was born in 1968 and I open the daily news Hows the king of new york rocking sandals with jeans ? Open toe sandals with chancletas with jeans on Hows the king of New York rocking sandals with jeans and he 42 years old ? CamRon Backup, this one aint the only one with big wallets Got it, my shxts brollic, dot it But your publishing should go to Ms. Wallace Honest. Stealing +BIG+ shxt, he made 2 albums, you wildin And he came dressed dog, ooh stylin It was Roc-a-Wear, when Dame had it Now you got it, call it +Cock-a-wear+, heh not in here Deaded pronto, you wont see a car. No Dame and Big bitch for years, now you on hoe He on the 40/40 got you in Atlantic City Bitch your budget outta baseline, goddamn its pretty You love a harlem nigga we get it cooking its true But now I look we got more dudes in Brooklyn then you A parity right ? Down in Je2 video I shoulda kissed you on the cheek, you a pretty ho And Jaz video you starred in it, Peter Pan I was hopping off the grey hound, Peter Pan How could he be the man ? Ha only reason fam I dont suck dick or kiss ass and Im consided, damn But we hawk yo, right where you walk bro You can fool the rest of the world long as New York know We put you under ground clown, they gon check the cellars I know he 40 years old, I dont respect my elders I respect the hustlers, plus the grinders and the sellers Youse a customer buster, here go jet propellers CamRon Chorus : repeat 2x You got to hate us the way we gettin this paper All my niggaz are coming straight from minimum wage Niggaz dick riding the Dip steady trying to play us But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face Dipset - hittin 40 and niggaz we totin guns Dipset - this is forty an nigga we from the slum Dipset - pushin 40 nigga you not the one Its killin season, holla at a nigga cause here it come CamRon Killa ! Lets go Who can fuck with me ? No mammal, but we tote handles Atcha open toe sandals, and you look like Joe Gamble Off of Rocafella right ? no contact But Busta fly joints, they put us out the contract I left the label right, lot of cats wonder how Everytime I diss that label I get fined a hundred-thou Jus for tellin yall I get fined a hundred-thou Heh them cats are ill, 5 times a half a mil Wars to play, like a bumper sticker smack a grill Paul Wall cap a grill but them cats are daffy dills East coast west coast slang yo cap ya bill Down in Houston ask B Ima mack forreal Hackie tell me, respect, better dwell me Beyonce fiance, check my 2nd LP I might bring it back, thats your girl, thats your world Had the thing, fucking singing bout slinging crack Mr. Rocafella stop, stop, stop it fella Still got our acapellas, but I will ock-ya-bella Hook put it in ya mouth uh put it in ya mouth put it in ya mouth uh put it in ya mouth CamRon It aint my fault Im raw Im sorry B but I want a war And he stabbed UN over Charlie Baltimore Sucker for love, hmm-hmm sucker for love Killa bitch go to trial hand be stuffed in the glove Ima hop in the bed, dog gon jus pop off her head Tell "Oh Jay-Z chill, Cochran is dead" CamRon Chorus : repeat 2x You got to hate us the way we gettin this paper All my niggaz are coming straight from minimum wage Niggaz dick riding the Dip steady trying to play us But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face Dipset - hittin 40 and niggaz we totin guns Dipset - this is forty an nigga we from the slum Dipset - pushin 40 nigga you not the one Its killin season, holla at a nigga cause here it come CamRon Yall niggaz dont want it with us man This just round one, 15 rounds B We ready, brake off bluff, professional concert,sell out 25 thousand Actin like you gon diss us You got anthrax over there man, and we George Bush man You on some Saddam Hussenin Acting like you got something over there You doing what ma*e did, you making super songs man Let it out man, get ready for 15 rounds man And all I did was battle once Everybody getting ready to step to the plate And Ima step up again and slam, grand-slam yo ass pardon me Dipset ! I know you, I know you like that I remember Dame sold you his old pathfinder Chipped in for the GS, you Jaz old son Wheres source money at ? Wheres the like, where they at ? Ima get back to all that, Dipset dawg Round one, let the games begin doggy Haha aint laughing at ya ugly ass no more YOU UGLY DAWG ! YOU UGLY ! You ugly man, you ugly My man UN said you look like Fraggle Rock and all that You on outfast nigga ? Get back to you nigga Nigga OH ! CamRon Chorus : repeat 2x You got to hate us the way we gettin this paper All my niggaz are coming straight from minimum wage Niggaz dick riding the Dip steady trying to play us But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face Dipset - hittin 40 and niggaz we totin guns Dipset - this is forty an nigga we from the slum Dipset - pushin 40 nigga you not the one Its killin season, holla at a nigga cause here it come Oh shxt, yo dude make sure you got them old vocals Bring em up real quick (Beyonce vocals) Yup, yup thats her, yup we got em

Oh my word

Artist: Canibus Album: My Name Is Nobody Song: Who Stopped Ya? [Canibus] Yo, who stopped ya? Separate the rappers from the actors The doctors from the proctobiologists Can't speak with common sense You got a dent in the medulla oblongata And lost some skills, five Percent Imma rock again How much you wanna bet Might throw a little fit Drown you with a little spit From the USA to Cairo Took the high road to Mohenjodaro Cause I'm a pharaoh If there was no tomorrow I'd still be the most sophisticated model of wordological babble The speech is called double speak For example if I said I was to bust the heat Till the sky touch your feet Open your eyes look at the concrete My name aint Germaine now you got the wrong beef It aint Canibus neither you got the wrong leaf You think Hitler's dead but you got the wrong teeth Like me rockin on another beat, right now While you still listenin to this one, blah-dow Being followed by a black cloud So imma just keep on rhyming and look at the ground I'll look up if you pass it around I'm the best lyricist hands down Motherfucker just look at your hands now Who stopped ya? Rap tighter than an anaconda Only one problem my work com sucks Syllables rush through the position of the teeth and the tongue Mouth to mic to speakers till its deep in your drum Speak with the tongue till sounds like I'm speakin in tongues When I'm done I'll leave you needing a lung Don't have to get up Cause I been up Doin sit ups and chin ups And an army chin up, I rip shxt up Punch y'all for pair of fist cuffs with fist clutch When I'm getting my dick sucked I resuscitate sick sluts Gettin they clits mixed up Stick a plug in the butt OK Bis you been explicit enough Who stopped ya, who stopped ya?

Artist: Cam'ron Album: Curtis 12" Song: Curtis (50 Cent Diss) [Verse 1] The truck or the Lambi, Cam be stuffed in some candy This ain't a label Curtis I'm fuckin with family See my squad done wait right behind them bars that's gated Hopped out the casket bastard, reincarnated Yep, so have a seat, this 'gon be a masterpiece I have to beef, he look like a gorilla, with rabbit teeth Bugs monkeys, act hard, with a crack god, that mack broads That video ain't Queens, it's your backyard Curtis, it's messin with your head bad You that mad but dag that's security with red flags? You bangin five shootin rocks and signs my way Fine play I keep it neutral but my family's nine,trey Soo woo, my A-alikes, that stay to fight, from day to night When I smack the Lighty brothers Dave and Mike Huh, believe me hoe, you can't G me though Jimmy ain't the President, he the C.E.O. Zeek is the President It's evident he'll cock and spray Santana underboss, I sign off like Dr. Dre I fuck with Zoe Pound too what up? Sak Pase? Grab the cocoa (?) rockaway I extended the clip, never be friends with you pricks Shout to a real Queens dude, you know Kenneth McGriff He ran from police, you run with police You ain't from Southside, you 'bout to get ya mouth wired [Chorus] Curtis!!! (Rewind it DJ) Curtis!!! (You ain't 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis!!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis!!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) Curtis!!! (Uh! Rewind it DJ) Curtis!!! (You ain't 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis!!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis!!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) [Verse 2] Aiyyo, check the tail girls break they neck and nails Just for me to sex they tail but let's talk record sales Juelz eight hundred, Jim fo' hundred I copped more cribs, more cars, got more blunted Yeah I rocked The ROC so stop it, doc you coppertop My niggas watch 'em ball, your dudes I watched 'em flop Yep, so beware, dog I'm tryin to be clear Banks bricked, Mobb bricked, Buck ain't been out for three, years Let me be fair, I hop up off a sweet Leer Right to Lennox ain't no sand, but I'm on my beach chair These are not tales, and dog we not frail You don't club in New York you party out in Scottsdale Huh, I can't be clowned, beef dog, hot damn we down How you livin'? You live in Tyson's hand me down Plus you can't be found I'll have you take ya actin' bound Ask around, I never liked the circus so I clap a clown [Chorus] Curtis!!! (Rewind it DJ) Curtis!!! (You ain't 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis!!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis!!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) Curtis!!! (Uh! Rewind it DJ) Curtis!!! (You ain't 50, 50 Cent from B.K.) Curtis!!! (Yep, he deserve to be nervous) Curtis!!! (Damn, show some courtesy Curtis) [Outro] Aiyyo man, thanks for all the shoutouts, for my dudes You keep shoutin 'em I love it baby them my brothers I ain't hear you say Banks name in a minute Talkin 'bout Koch a graveyard you just signed off for Prodigy to go there Aiyyo P he a sucker, get away from that dude B, you ain't got no swag with buck teeth You know how you ain't got no swag? Whoever let you sign off on them G-Unit tank tops is stupid just like yo' dumb ass!!! Them is brasiere tops, whoever wore that outside was a homo, gay ass nigga!!! Aiyyo stop callin my probation officer to, why you talkin 'bout my probation? You tryin to get me locked up Curtis?! Aiyyo Curtis you really tryin to get me locked up? You said somethin about my probation on your song Next thing I know my probation officer call me today said he need to see me Aiyyo if I go to jail, Curtis put me in jail!!!! It's crazy I gotta go report to probation, next Thursday I ain't supposed to report for three weeks I gotta go Thursday and he mention my probation Aiyyo let me get off this mic now cause I know how you get down, rat ass nigga!!! That's true story that's not even a joke I'm dead serious...

Artist: Cam'Ron Album: Got to Love It (White Label) 12" Song: Got to Love It (Jay-Z Diss) [Cam'Ron] Uh Dipset! Fore I set it off O.K. First off, you a bitch nigga Only reason I'm doin this, I'ma jus name 5 reasons real quick, got a hundred fifty First - you stole Rocafella from Dame Second - you stole Kanye from Dame Third - you stole Rocawear from Dame Forth - I seen the nigga throw that diamond up before them shots was fired Fifth - hold on, turn the beat off I had to turn the beat off for this You talkin bout you a 80's baby You 37 years old, you was born in 1968 and I open the daily news How's the king of new york rocking sandals with jeans? Open toe sandals with chancletas with jeans on How's the king of New York rocking sandals with jeans and he 42 years old? [Cam'Ron] Backup, this one ain't the only one with big wallets Got it, my shxts brollic, dot it But your publishing should go to Ms. Wallace Honest. Stealing +BIG+ shxt, he made 2 albums, you wildin And he came dressed dog, ooh stylin It was Roc-a-Wear, when Dame had it Now you got it, call it +Cock-a-wear+, heh not in here Deaded pronto, you won't see a car. No Dame and Big bitch for years, now you on hoe He on the 40/40 got you in Atlantic City Bitch your budget outta baseline, goddamn it's pretty You love a harlem nigga we get it cooking it's true But now I look we got more dudes in Brooklyn then you A parity right? Down in Je2 video I shoulda kissed you on the cheek, you a pretty ho And Jaz video you starred in it, Peter Pan I was hopping off the grey hound, Peter Pan How could he be the man? Ha only reason fam I don't suck dick or kiss ass and I'm consided, damn But we hawk yo, right where you walk bro You can fool the rest of the world long as New York know We put you under ground clown, they gon check the cellars I know he 40 years old, I don't respect my elders I respect the hustlers, plus the grinders and the sellers Youse a customer buster, here go jet propellers [Chorus: repeat 2X] You got to hate us the way we gettin this paper All my niggaz are coming straight from minimum wage Niggaz dick riding the Dip steady trying to play us But you get sprayed, bust a round we got in his face Dipset - hittin 40 and niggaz we totin guns Dipset - this is forty an nigga we from the slum Dipset - pushin 40 nigga you not the one It's killin season, holla at a nigga cause here it come [Cam'Ron] Killa! Let's go Who can fuck with me? No mammal, but we tote handles Atcha open toe sandals, and you look like Joe Gamble Off of Rocafella right? no contact But Busta fly joints, they put us out the contract I left the label right, lot of cats wonder how Everytime I diss that label I get fined a hundred-thou Jus for tellin y'all I get fined a hundred-thou Heh them cats are ill, 5 times a half a mil Wars to play, like a bumper sticker smack a grill Paul Wall cap a grill but them cats are daffy dills East coast west coast slang yo cap ya bill Down in Houston ask B I'ma mack forreal Hackie tell me, respect, better dwell me Beyonce fiance, check my 2nd LP I might bring it back, that's your girl, that's your world Had the thing, fucking singing bout slinging crack Mr. Rocafella stop, stop, stop it fella Still got our acapellas, but I will ock-ya-bella [Hook] put it in ya mouth uh put it in ya mouth put it in ya mouth uh put it in ya mouth [Cam'Ron] It ain't my fault I'm raw I'm sorry B but I want a war And he stabbed UN over Charlie Baltimore Sucker for love, hmm-hmm sucker for love Killa bitch go to trial hand be stuffed in the glove I'ma hop in the bed, dog gon jus pop off her head Tell "Oh Jay-Z chill, Cochran is dead" [Chorus] [Cam'Ron] Y'all niggaz don't want it with us man This just round one, 15 rounds B We ready, brake off bluff, professional concert,sell out 25 thousand Actin like you gon diss us You got anthrax over there man, and we George Bush man You on some Saddam Hussenin Acting like you got something over there You doing what ma*e did, you making super songs man Let it out man, get ready for 15 rounds man And all I did was battle once Everybody getting ready to step to the plate And I'ma step up again and slam, grand-slam yo ass pardon me Dipset! I know you, I know you like that I remember Dame sold you his old pathfinder Chipped in for the GS, you Jaz old son Where's source money at? Where's the like, where they at? I'ma get back to all that, Dipset dawg Round one, let the games begin doggy Haha ain't laughing at ya ugly ass no more YOU UGLY DAWG! YOU UGLY! You ugly man, you ugly My man UN said you look like Fraggle Rock and all that You on outfast nigga? Get back to you nigga Nigga OH! [Chorus] Oh shxt, yo dude make sure you got them old vocals Bring 'em up real quick (Beyonce vocals) Yup, yup that's her, yup we got 'em

Artist: The Game f/ Techniec Album: Stop Snitchin, Stop Lyin Song: G-Unit Crip [The Game] Aye 50, get them niggaz some iced out badges to go with them used cars you bought 'em nigga I am the West Coast nigga, and ain't shxt that can change that, hahahaha [Chorus - The Game] Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Nigga's runnin with a motherfuckin snitch so its g-g-g-unot Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Nigga's runnin with a motherfuckin snitch so its g-g-g-unot You niggaz ain't crips, you niggaz ain't bloods You just little G-Unit run around thugs You niggaz ain't crips, you niggaz ain't bloods You just little G-Unit run around thugs [Verse 1 - The Game] Yeah nigga I'm loco but not like loco Red rag in my pocket, got gangbanging in the chokehold Red spokes on my low low, oh no Nigga call the po po, Game got a fo fo Guns by the boatload, niggaz rappin so so Def like Jermaine, talking bout they gangbang Whats a West Coast nigga from a East Coast gang A free 300 C, and a G-Unit chain Now he running with the po po, nigga even BO know 50 starts singing like KC and JoJo Catch me slippin nigga I hope so You wanna go to war, we can do it on both coasts What's up cuz, what's up blood What's up cuz, what's up wankstas What's up cuz, what's up blood What's up cuz, what's up wankstas [Chorus] [Verse 1 - Techniec] We loadin up clips, handin out slugs Out the 645 sittin on dubs With some real crips, and some real bloods I ain't with the bullshxt, nigga easy up I ain't with the bullshxt, nigga easy up High in the air, got the wrist freeze up Same nigga that don't bang But you could back ya ass up nigga, cause the 5th gon flame While you at it, move ya eyes off my wall street chain They say we movin like an organized street gang All hues of blue, all shades of flame New west coast we doin the damn thang This year we make power moves With O.G.'s that been home, niggaz still bathe in their shower shoes Grown full, I never move how a coward move Never heard of defeat bitch, I don't know how to lose Thought it would end, but it seems we ain't done Boy wagin war on the coast he ain't from Tryin to pit niggaz against us, cancel Christmas It'll be a lot of sense ???? (Chorus - The Game) Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Nigga's runnin with a motherfuckin snitch so its g-g-g-unot Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Here come the G-Unit Crips, call the cops Nigga's runnin with a motherfuckin snitch so its g-g-g-unot You niggaz ain't crips, you niggaz ain't bloods You just little G-Unit run around thugs You niggaz ain't crips, you niggaz ain't bloods You just little G-Unit run around thugs [Verse 3 - The Game] See Game in the streets, see Game with his chain hangin Hood tatted on his neck, nigga I'm gangbangin Blood, this is Piru, nigga I told y'all *Menace to Society*, never met O-Dog Time for the roll call, homies come in handy Taeda and Row from Mafia, Big-Y from the Family BIG T from Grape Street, 60's that's Titta-Rock Mob got Tammy-Ru, Face run Cedar Block Don't fuck with me homies, I know Jova from T-Flats Downa from the 18th Streets let the heat clap Tre-D from Insane, Bg Woody from Nutty Block Main Streets got Dell-Dogg, Wood, and Stutter Box Got this motherfucker locked, try to move how I do Might run into Wacko from West Side Piru K-Dog, and T-Money, Mansfield Thugs 2-Ts and Du-Dog from Bounty Hunter Bloods Magic from Avalon, Twin from Santana Bird from Hoover know for the Orange Bandana Rick James from Fruit Town, Bam in the Denver Lanes Big-T, East Coast Crip Gang Big Fish from 1-9, DUB C from 1-11 Big Sharp from Playboy, J-Box from 9-7 Candy Man from Swans, Steve from PJ Watts you call 'em G-Unit Crips, I call 'em cops What's up cuz, what's up blood What's up cuz, what's up wankstas What's up cuz, what's up blood What's up cuz, what's up wankstas [Chorus]

Artist: Canibus... Album: 2000 B.C (before canibus)... Song: Phuk U (eminem diss) Verse 3: ya supastar status dnt mean sh!t 2 me... lyrically sucker mc's still get frequency... try 2 dis me mw, hw u sound?... yo, whoeva signd u must be running a circus cuz ur a clown... u a rapper wit a drug habit, hidin da truth... camoflaugin ya needle tracks wit sum colourful tatoos... u was neva equipped 4 dis... neva equipped 2 spit wit bis... im swift as sh!t... let me point out da main differences... u magnificent... im mic-nificent... yo, id even go out on a limb wit it... say u write a lil bit... dat dnt make u a tyt lyricist... cuz u dnt prctise or stick wit it... look at da 60hour shifts i spend wit dis... i neva quit, i got a gift 4 da art... a lot maintenance cost... no physical movin parts... in 98 niggas thot i was God... hw da fuck did dat change... im stil one of da illest niggas in da game... so look inside urself n tel me wht u c... if u c a hungry nigga then u lookin at me...