let me see. I'm the boss don't play lacrosse skills I had pills I don't need that weather I check that werd
Rhymin this shit like its outta controll with this rapper style that be eatin your soul i dont talk for the look but i talk for the peeps that be runnin you over with their goddamn jeeps. And im spittin this fire like bowser its true cuz im stealin your peach, bitch, like outta the blue. You cant see me comin there aint no way in hell cuz ima hit ya like a koopa, hit ya right in the shell and there aint no way you'll touch me cuz my body got spikes and all my bros up and my homies they all handle the mikes CHECK IT (wrote this all super fast without erasing so srry if theres a typo)
Ward, I think you were a little hard on the Beaver So was Eddie Haskal, Wally, and Ms. Cleaver This guy keeps screamin', he's paranoid! Quick, someone get his ass another steriod! "Blahbity bloo blah blah blahbity bloo blah!" I ain't hear a word you said, "hipidy hooblah!" Is that a tank top, or a new bra? Look, Snoop Dogg just got a fuckin' boob job! Didn't you listen to the last round, meat head? Pay attention, you're sayin the same shit that he said! Matter fact, dog, here's a pencil Go home, write some shit, make it suspenseful, And don't come back until something dope hits you Fuck it! You can take the mike home with you! Lookin' like a cyclone hit you, Tank top screamin', "Lotto, I don't fit you!" You see how far those white jokes get you Boy's like "How Vanilla Ice gonna diss you?" My motto: Fuck Lotto! I get the 7 digits from your mother for a dolla tomorrow! (8 mile freestyle rap battle pt.2)
Weed lacer, '97 burgundy Blazer Wanted for burglary, had to ditch the Mercury Tracer I'm on some loc ish, Some fed up wit the being broke ish I'm not to joke wit Bitch, I don't sell crack, I smoke it Having a coke fit and going through withdrawals daily Shoot up with mescaline in front of my baby daughter Hailey My brains dusted; I'm disgusted at all my habits Too many aspirin tablets, empty medicine cabinets Losing battles to wack rappers 'cause I'm always too blunted Walkin' up in the cypher smokin', talkin' about, "Who want it?" Thug and a crook; every drug in the book I've done it My 9's at your brain, is that your chain? Run it Crews die from an overdosage of excessive flavor Aggressive nature got me stickin' you for your Progressive pager Spectacular, battle rap manufacturer Stole your mama's Acura, wrecked it and sold it back to her Cruise in Nike jackets, escaped from psychiatrics Told the nurse to save my bed for me "I might be back Trick" So barricade your entrance, put up some extra fences A woman beater, wanted for repeated sex offenses Chasing dips, take 'em on long vacation trips Kid nappin' em' and trappin' em' in abusive relationships Mess up your face and lips Slit your stomach and watch your gut split Gut you wit that razor that I use to shave my nuts with Mama don't you cry, your son's too far gone I'm so high, I don't even know what label I'm on I'm messed up, I feel just like an over worked plumber I'm sick of the crap, what's Jack Kevorkian's phone number?