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Artist: Ruthless Bastardz f/ J-Black
Album:  Too Raw for Radio
Song:   Freestyle
Typed by: Cno Evil

[J-Black]
It's J-Black and ya'll niggas gon' get something
I can tell by that wack shit you spit, you ain't been through nothin'
The dirty harry on the shelf, you ain't did no dumping
Aiyo, you niggas don't be up in the projects
I get money and re-ups in ya pocket
Them up the block niggas be up in your pockets, Black
Blow his top off soon as his face be up with the rocket
Ya'll bird niggas following that? Jive turkey
This be Thanksgiving food, how I gobble the track
Ya'll muthafuckas swallowing that?
If you don't speak, you can' fuck with J-Black and don't bother the rat
Nigga respect Daddyhore, cuz we dump, or get ya food aten
And ya'll niggas is looking like free lunch
Knock ya teeth out, revolve with a smile
That's why they call us Daddyhore, nigga, we fathered ya style
Chump, the gauge ain't open ya head, cuz I ain't find you
You was hiding in the pick-up, like Smokey and Craig
Supposed to get money, nigga, you was smoking instead
Chump, and I know, you must be stupid, nigga
Thinking ya'll can fuck Number Runners and Ruthless, nigga

[Iron Mic]
Yo, the only thing bling blinging on me is the chrome
You don't want it with Ruthless, leave it alone
I ain't stupid, without it, I never leave home
You got drama, I put my hammer out, let it be known
And if I see you really want it boy, better be on
I scribble on ya forehead, leave lead on your dome
They say money and drama don't mix, so I'mma kill
All these pussy ass niggas for acting dick
My momma raised me right, she asked me why I rap like this
My daddy died, and shit, I felt like this ever since
These are the cards I been dealt, nigga, give me a hit
Straight off the top of the deck, I lose, I'm popping the tech
Pop Ya Head Off Records, nigga, that's what I rep
Ruthless Bastard, nigga, from now to my deck
We live on the battlefield, God bless my set
And nigga, you ain't got to step in the shower to get water
I'm still that same thorough thug nigga, you first met
Hustle on the crib steps, dirt over the tech
And any out of town nigga had to pay rent
For the 6'1, light skinned nigga was stressed
But the only pounds I lift are the ones that spit
Ya'll niggas is counterfeit, we as real as it gets

[Chorus: Apocalipps]
Don't ever disrespect the Stat, you must be crazy
Fucking with J-Black, you must be crazy
Iron Mic, grab the fucking 3-80, we ain't crazy

[Apocalipps]
Yo, Apocalipps is in this bitch, don't panic
And I can't hang around ya man, cuz that muthafucka schezophranic
Scared to death, put the clip up in the mac, don't jam it
If the cops come, best believe, Lipps gon' vanish
I ain't trynna be up in court, with Judge Brandon
Remanded again, another fucking bullpen sandwich
I, shall forever run these streets
The marathon man, I pull the knife so I can chop up the baet
It's Lipps, I don't got nicks, I got dimes, son
I'm the cat that ya favorite rapper got his rhymes from
You speeding like when the car go fast
But my gun will 106 and Park ya ass
Rap Hollywood niggas wanna see me dead
Cuz I'm black and like rebate, they put g's on my heads
I'm at the bid-ar, your bid-itch, she know I'm popping
That's why I beat the pussy up like Bernand Hopkins
And ah, I smoke herb and kick the curb
My gun is like a dealer on the block
Cuz it's quick to flip a bird, quick to flip a herb
And straight level ya man, I'm so hot, nigga, they had to buy the devil a fan
And I was gon' let the white boy clap you
And I'm hot, nigga, I got Satan begging for an ice cold Snapple
You washed up, ya man is wack, you need to watch your mouth
Protective custody, police'll need to watch your house, bitch
Think about it...