Artist: Crooked I f/ Horse Shoe G.A.N.G., Royce Da 5'9" Album: Mr. Pigface Weapon Waist Song: Freestyle Cypher Typed by: Nickolye16@aol.com [Intro: Crooked I] Yo, you niggaz makin them Vibe articles, "Best Rappers Alive" Y'all niggaz don't know what the FUCK y'all talkin 'bout! Ha ha ha ha, niggaz can't RAP no more! But my niggaz can Ladies and g-g-g-gent-g-gent-g-g-g-gentlemen Ahh {*laughs*} chea! You remember when, niggaz had to know how to rhyme? Way back, this the "Cypher 2" It ain't for you radio niggaz, ha ha [Demetrius Capone] We the best spittin, best livin or dead I write fly shit like kites sent to the feds To battle niggaz inside prison - listen I been spittin them death sentences for a life sentencin, yup! Niggaz die behind bars, I mean die behind shit that I said I guess I'm like Mike Vick in the head I kill niggaz who think they bite vicious But you a female, dog, that's why y'all like bitchin instead I think of hot shit like pyrokinesis Speakin of kinesis, with psychokinesis I'm squeezin a rifle Leavin no prints, and I stole your pieces to leave you without arms like the Venus de Milo Jesus Christ, he can squeeze with his eyes closed or blindfolded, and knock a fly off a guy's nose Spittin liquid nitro Cardiac or Cartier, either way my ticker's ice cold [Julius Luciano] I'll get a 45 if you test me, I don't mean a low score Ratchet, let you have it like I don't need it no more I'm so great, I roast these MC's for dough, ay Then donate, the proceeds to your team, now go pay a ghostwriter okay, your flow seems to need some mo' flavor now go play, and don't speak to me I'm so vein I boast, I'm low-key, conceited I don't even put "do re", before "mi" you see I don't see no way, like dopefiends, you need a hit, of my spit, one dose leave you weak Somethin that sounds like, oh-in-ne-in{?} should go here but naw Switch it up, don't care I'm raw It's no fair for y'all, I flow so rare it's no error or flaws Oh yeah beef, when I go there to draw Bang! Man that gat scar niggaz I'll blow you to Madagascar nigga, haha yeah [Dice Dinero] Who wanna fuck with this raw nigga? I come through at night and snatch your life I shoot your bitch, that's how I Mac/mack your wife Then shoot her again in the afterlife See I'm a problem, your beef to each his own; I'll eat your soul When I go into a ether zone I'm on the eastside of Long Beach I'm the beast you don't see, the Grim Reaper's clone Give me a pen and a pad and a microphone And you can wind up with your muh'fuckin speaker's blown My flow is acid, my spit's sulfuric I bury you with the lyrics beneath the Earth, lift this finger Disappearin, listen here it's crystal clear My shots'll lift your soul, I mean lift your spirits Cause every bar in my arsenal is arsonic Attract arsonists, I'm more armed with arctic spit Don't nobody want it like heavy smokers, my gun's most likely loaded with bodies on it, call it a morgue cause it holds carcasses [Kenny Siegel] Brrap brrap! Pack, we the best 'round Fuck these old dudes who lost they touch as if they was paralyzed from the neck down Clique of tyrants you can call us the New West now We a virus you can call us the New West Nile We harder than tryin to spot a spit{?} with bad vision So niggaz might wanna be easy like fast bitches I'm past wicked slash vicious, if we clash I'll blast clips and leave your presence/presents in the past like last Christmas You get erased by a gorilla for realer ay With the steel that I conceal, I can seal your fate Skip a wake, I'll bury you while you still awake I'll put niggaz in they place as if I'm in real estate My clique deep, we skate in circles on some cold shit as if we tryin to figure skate, and pull off the figure eight I don't think y'all men straight, naw I think y'all menstruate! I'll leave holes in you like the figure eight, leave your figure ate! [Royce Da 5'9"] The Horse Shoe, Gang You from Long Beach or Detroit boy you annoyed, of course you, bang Look at that Bugatti, look at the body on that passenger Take your top off you then body the bottom half of ya If it's, drama, I'ma take the whole family out Maxwell Sheffield, that's right, I'll take +The Nanny+ out I'll beat that drum boy I'm like Travis Barker with that A-K-4-7 {*quick drumroll*} But I'll be deep in that spot though I got my Mexican chick, 'bout to go put my beef in her taco Haha, pardon my candor But anytime I was ever questioned the gun spark was my answer Pull your tool out, we ain't in here with fakers We can turn this into Cleveland vs. the Lakers Haha, a shootout, death I rule out Yes, we way too busy murkin your crew out [Crooked I] I'm the nigga you should call when kickin the raw written I mastered what y'all call spittin my ice cold sentences, frost-bitten I'm shittin on y'all, grippin that sawed-off You a lost kitten gettin your paws gnawed off by the big dog, listen; no matter what Prodigy thought of me I should be commonly known as the best Put the chrome at your chest - never +Layzie+, get +Krayzie+ +Bizzy+ so the bullets move in +Harmony+ through your +Bone+ and your +Flesh+ A super-villain, I'm ill as Bizarro I'll kill you tomorrow, then a nigga's chillin in Kilimanjaro How many bullets from this steel are you willin to borrow? You dyin to ride? Fuck it, I'll lend you a carload You die in your ride, wife tryin to hide Cyanide poison your bride, she dyin inside I walk the streets of Long Beach with a screw loose Talkin to myself, niggaz think I'm on a Bluetooth Pigface nigga! [woman] And I'm his bitch, Bonnie