aight i did my homework
GETTING REAL ON HIM
[/b]
ayo i'm sorry Zubz but i gotta murder ur man
like Tommy Hearns knocking out Roberto Duran
and when i'm done with u i'm a start on ur crew
i wipe my a** with toilet paper that's harder than u
and i heard u on mixtapes trying to floss
u ain't Eminem, u feminine like Diana Ross
a halfbar from me weighs over eight hundred pounds
ur whole career's work still gets weighed by the ounce
don't make me pull out da Glock and let it spit
this is Rap Diesel, u on some unleaded shit
u so smalltime u could fit thru a keyhole
right now my name's bigger than Lil Wayne's ego
i had crook mad shook cuz the flow be hittin
i drop punchlines and cats be like "Oh, no she didn't!!!!"
and i ain't concerned with whatever seida spits
i crush niggas in one bar like jadakiss
i know u's a needy brother / so i copped
ur album and wiped my a** with the CD cover
and my Glock's spit toxic big shells kid
i see "The Big Picture" same way that Big L did
u autistic retard, u can't touch my mindstate
ur a baboon, a monkey, a f***ing primate
and Zubz was like "Yo Crook, what happened son???"
so i told him "poke him with a fork cuz that rapper's done"
What?
? Getting Real On Him?
?
Tried to warn you babygirl, now you leave me with no choice yo
This gon' be overkill......
Zubz in the background; "Yo Crook there's blood in the water; get ya Great White on"
Elle ya like Apollo Creed facin'-Rocky; you ain't got /
What it takes-to-stop-me, my skills make-me-cocky
An' I love killin' rookies on a grimy-track /
I'm "So 4 Real" Heavy D wants to sign-me-back
You's a rookie in da game, a Frontline-Virgin /
How dare you challenge me when I'm da Punchline-Surgeon
Regarded-as-nice coz I started-precise /
Da flow's
AUTISTIC I'm
RETARDED-with-mics
First I spit venom, then-spray-Ether /
An' handle sixteens like a Tenth-Grade-Teacher
I'm Down Syndrome with it; I burn-rounds-and-work-Dollars /
While all ya demo's got turned-down-like-shirt-collars
You mad new to this, one 'a' da beginner-players /
I'm way above ya level I'm like the Himalayas
An' round here all da heads say-you's-a-Amateur /
Ya like Bow Wow tryin' 'a' battle Jeru-Da-Damager
You dat Primary School baller doin' playground-tours /
I'm da PSL Commissioner; I
LAY-DOWN-LAWSI school young MC's an' handle-Pro-Rhymers /
Your level's two miles beneath me like Anglo-Gold-Miners
An' I'm waitin' on ya crew in my B-Boy fight-stance /
Then cock da Glock an' squeeze on 'em like tight-pants
An' even though I'm schemin'-on-Wall-Street / I still find
Time to fill ya mouth with more se(a)men-than-a-War-Fleet
You can't compete on this level with those phoney-punchlines /
Elle ya "Way Outta Ya League" like Tony-Sunshine
Coz I hold all da Title-Belts / So much
Championship Gold rappers call me Michael-Phelps
I'm The Underground King known to slice-an-MC /
You couldn't find two rappers that's nicer-than-me
I'm Chuck Taylor, you're Jack-Purcell: / You live ya
Entire existence in my shadow plus ya wack-as-hell
For real ya lightyears behind me; Elle I coulda
Handled-you / When I was in
Standard-TwoAn' for da right price I might even murder-ya-kids /
Coz I scramble with mine like Schalk Burger-with-his (I see u Jigga)
When it's beef I'm known for applyin'-the-Hammer /
Bullets 'a' run thru ya team like Bryan-Habana
Now there's rumours that I'm f***in' with Gunz
So I guess I'm sorta like Shaquille O'Neal and Lord Tariq
While you an' ya girls stay out 'til late-in-da-clubs /
An' argue 'bout who's da illest; is it Seida-or-Maggz?
I'm a
PRIMATE so ya mans-sing-my-song /
Elle you like a banana in the hands-'a'-King-Kong
I'm dat Giant-Ape, only difference is he fell off
The Empire-State / Me? I'd rather die-in-the-Cape
Gotchyu feelin' like you came out da wrong-vagina /
Elle you so phoney you was prolly born-in-China
An' ya whole crew are straight-beginners / Plus they
Been runnin' away-from-niggas like Jamaican-Sprinters
I'm The Best Kept Secret since Royce-Da-Five-Nine /
Delivery's exquisite my voice-is-Prime-Time
An' "Unf***withable" you know's-a-Cla**ic /
Da rhyme-scheme's nutso, da flows-are-acid
I'm a cold-hearted, frozen-Bastard: / Put you and
Ya favourite rapper in a box, then close-da-Casket
What you pack da Glock-for? You not-raw, I'm Top-Drawer /
I've blocked-more shots from Rookies than Patrick-Ewing
So I 'ont know what da f*** y'all cats-is-doin' /
In the Fourth-Quarter, I pop up an restore-order
Increase my Battle-advantage / I ain't
Mean to kill you Elle; you just Collateral-Damage
Declared dead by Crook-at-The-State-Morgue /
In this battle you received more hooks-than-Nate-Dogg
The Coroner revealed "The cause-of-death-was-punchlines /
Delivered viciously more-or-less-at-one-time.....By Seida-Crook"
Get da f*** outta here
"
Poll