Diss Tracks [LYRICS] by Underground 2010/01/25 13:48
All time greatest diss tracks. You can post any diss track you know.
All time greatest diss tracks. You can post any diss track you know.
Underground 2010/01/25 13:51
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: 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...
Underground 2010/01/25 13:56
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: 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!)
Underground 2010/01/25 14:11
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...will...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
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...will...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
Underground 2010/01/25 14:23
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...
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...
Underground 2010/01/25 14:28
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
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
Underground 2010/01/27 16:12
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: 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?
Underground 2010/01/27 16:23
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: 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...
Underground 2010/01/27 16:25
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: 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
Underground 2010/01/27 16:35
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: 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]
Doofy... 2010/02/03 12:21
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...
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...
#49 Rap BattleZ
Engage in lyrical battles with other 2wap rappers. Not for the easily-offended.