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...