The time is 1:12 in the ATL I exit 112 with this bitch Michelle In the V-12 headed to the hotel Hydro lit up, weed in the air She feenin’ to get bent, legs in the air She want her hair pulled, spank her derriere We interrupted by a phone call from Joe the player That boy tell me he got big bricks for sale Since it’s money over bitch, yeah, that’s my shit That hoe got dropped quick like pigeon shit Dat boy said he just hit a big-ass lick And he’s sittin’ on top of 112 bricks And he’ll let the boy get it twelve a brick And drive a hundred miles per hour, get there quick I’m callin’ the clique, tryin’ to scrounge the cash Got at least a quarter million buried in the stash Gotta give me twenty-five if I bring him cash That nigga lick for the shit, he gotta get off it fast I’m at my grandmomma’s house, flashlight and shovel Diggin’ up the iron box, gettin’ dirt on the bezel So now I’m headed to the meeting spot with the cash Got two lil’ niggas with me with ski masks They snort powder, snow, and shoot real fast So if Joe fuck up, that’s Joe black ass If he tries some funny shit like Dave Chapelle We gon’ put a few bullets in his lapel We gon’ leave a whole clip in that nigga head Told Zach and Jackpot, “Follow me in the building” If this nigga get cute we ain’t talkin’, we killing That’s anybody: man, woman, pets, and chil’en Or anybody tryin’ to separate me from the cash Gon’ find they ass right next to God real fast I arrive at Joe’s room, it was suite 112 Immediately I asked him, “Who got the yayo?” He responds back, “Who got the cash?” I told him, “Me, muthafucker, now let’s do this fast” That’s when I noticed this tall nigga lookin’ like a fag And three dread niggas in the back smokin’ hash Four white hoes just giggling, laughing I’m telling Joe, I don’t do business like that Put them hoes out the room and tell ya man Go sit in the back with Bob Marley’s band Nigga busts out the bathroom, pistol in hand He was yellin’, screamin’, shooting and missing It was like that first scene in the movie Pulp Fiction Before I could duck Big Zach was spittin’ Left that boy laid out holy as a Christian The white girls spazzin’ out, cryin’, flippin’ The tall-ass nigga caught one to the head And Jackpot made sure the Baha Men were dead Joe’s hidin’ behind the wet bar shakin’ and scared And I’m screamin’, “Mu’fucka, I got one for ya head” By now my two lil’ shooters came in somethin’ vicious They killed niggas twice, even merked the white bitches I’m lookin’ at Joe, all shakin’ and scared While I got the 44 to the middle of his head I’m tellin’ him, “Holmes, look at yourself.” All balled up in the corner, you done shit on yourself You was Joe my main player, my ace, in fact I can’t kill ya, homeboy, I’ll leave that to Zach - Killer Mike, “112 Freestyle” (Aphilliates’ “Got That Purp” mixtape)
America can be armed with nuclear warheads But when another country has ‘em, they say it’s a threat Y’all wanna be the power supreme So then y’all find a fucked-up reason to go to war with Saddam’s regime And then y’all suffered repercussions Falsely accusing Iraq of possessing weapons of mass destruction Y’all found nothing so why y’all buggin’ Y”all need to leave ‘em alone, y’all need to get the fuck on And go and mind y’all own business Y’all gon’ get clobbered Always butting in other countries’ problems Tryin’ to act like it’s for the better, but y’all tryin’ to rob ‘em Of they rights and freedom It’s all about the money, nigga, please believe it Will a minority be president? Nope But they’ll gladly elect a muthafuckin’ white man who admits to using dope When a white man needs assistance right away the cops are on it When a black man needs assistance first they gotta finish their donut - Arabic Assassin, bonethugsnharmony5@yahoo.com I’m one of the best spittin’ this year, think not prove me wrong Ya game is outdated like Atari and Pong Please, y’all just ride for the thrill But sooner or later that bullshit gon’ crash like J Wills Just call me rap’s Hitler Cause I snatch jewels and have ya cornrows resembling Twizzler’s What you know about Benjamins? Be lucky I’m rappin’, cause I could be slangin’ rocks like Palestinians Or doing something else, who knows Cause my dick is like water, it goes straight through hoes Remember this, I’m first you last While I chew rappers by mistake like fat people eating too fast Man, I get mad cheers when I go on tour While you get more boos than an ABC store If you thinkin’ bout doing it, forget you did Cause I”m in a class by myself like retarded kids - Jae Cash, jaecash@hotmail.com Sevyn syphony like Mozart or Chopin I’m an artist, deaf to those critics like Beethoven I also bait hoes to come to the van Give me some knowledge then leav with their man Holdin’ his hand like, DAMNNNN.... That’s how we do it in the Bayou City Little bit of Nyquil on the Philly have you chilly, but really I just wanna get some lesbies on the pill, see If they’ll lick each other up and down with no clothes on like, DAMNNNN... Yeah, man, rappin’ Latin you can’t handle These verbals I got runnin’ through your dome like Earl Campbell Add the numbers up on the jersey he just dismantled You should see it equals up to Sevyn just like Randall Similar to Philly’s running-man Cunningham-Scramble On you haters light up, you just like a candle This is the type of static you can’t descramble Come through, blow up the spot and leave you all in shambles - Sevyn Rowdy Rican, Beloved Family Organization (BFO), efernan1@txu.com
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