Ca**idy - 11 Minute Freestyle on Hot 97 lyrics

[Beat 1: Public Service Announcement] They said I ain't a threat, but now I record and send the check N I stash half the cash n' spend the rest N I would a been broke like y'all if I didn't invest We both got ice n' cars but I ain't in debt A lot of vets need a give rhyming a rest Y'all sound like has-beens, n' I ain't impressed I'm dying to bet, you fellers know "I ain't the best" Prove I'm lying if I ain't correct They call me doc, I'll give your dog shots but, I ain't the vet N I got dough so, I ain't upset, ayo I do the drop on, Michael J's and the top gone At least I got the bu*ter like microwave popcorn Stop drawing it's gon' be hard to move me Swizz tha Monster, he could star in a horror movie I usually, I click fast, and bang ya b**h a** N ain't nothing change, I got cane for the quick cash But change I whip pa**, aim n' Blid-ast! The kid Ca** got the game on smid-ash! Slang the stid-ash, I'm tryna' stack money high Gimme money 'till I die, gimme' 25 Man I might not be alive when I'm 25 Thats why I carry 2 nines, n' a 25 And sell 20's, that'll get you dummy high Bagged in a one-25, on 25's Them 20's on the five, my coochie rate sky rocketed n***a I'm a pimp, that's why I popped ya chick Sis' got the it, know she tryna' cop me it Now she start giving up dough to go shoppin' with Popping ish might get you to deserve it But it happened, be happy she ain't get you murdered I'm a straight cannon, n' I'm getting the cake can N' I be out the state tanning, eating on baked salmon I'm straight scrambling, tryna' sell a gram of Ye But ya strip only get a grand a day N' there ten of y'all on it, pretending y'all doing it You don't get stacks boy, you a pack boy Be on the corner for a hundred hours Selling other n***as coke n' only gone get a hundred dollars You could probably get some money if you come an holla' Cause I got haze, n' I cop K's So my block made heavy money My weed fluffy, n' got red hair like Peggy Bundy I got 20's come cop from the house Cause the green you got garbage like Oscar the Grouch I got more change then you got in my couch Next cat that scream my name gon' get shot in the mouth I got the yay on the stroll in my whole notebook of raps Every bar raw when I write it's like cooking crack I gotta mean street team that be pushing packs I'm getting gravy like the 80's, I took it back I'm watching n***as on the block get shook and rat Seen n***as serve the wrong fiend, get booked for that I watch n***as try to floss n' get took for that So between the draw of jeans where I put the gat [Beat 2: Problem Child] Meek keep the piece, n' you know Mook 'll clap Last cat that slept on Ca**, he took a nap You cats will go night night for the right price So I suggest you know respect if you like life Cause the white high how I made loochie Them big rocks got 'em like Chris Rock when he played Pookie The strip poppin', I ride for cash N' you softer then a toddler a** You could ask any cat that was on the strip with me If I flipped the key, n' I had Christmas tree Man, Ca** sold more bags then Lipton Tea N' I had chicks trick for me, cause I'm a pimp My watch, I gotta squint at my wrist to see What time it is, n' my hip where the llama is I'll look at y'all cats cheques like, where the commas is Fishtanks in the headrest so the piranhas is Swimming past when Ca** comes spinnin past You know I'm going slow, but my rims is spinning fast I'm in a cla** by my self, you n***as a** You did it in the past, but now you n***as trash N' my flow pathetic, yea I'm so poetic Even though I don't get my credit, but its copasetic Everything I spit is so sick like my throat infected I'm the illest n***a out, n' I ain't sold a record But you know I'm gunna blow cause I'm so connected Swizz going to produce, Jay gon' promote the record Who hard as me what, I did a song with R but I ain't on no RnB stuff I ain't no pretender, y'all remember the free stuff N' that'll happen to a n***a actin' like he tough I spit toxic waste so talk slick n' Get ya faced sliced up a like chocolate cake [Beat 3: Tipsy] Rest in peace to B.I.G, P.A.C., Aaliyah, Left E.Y.E New York, Game you don't stop, Big Pun, n' you won't stop I said, Rest in peace to B.I.G, P.A.C., Aaliyah, Left E.Y.E Freaky Tah, you already know Big L, the whole click yo My name Ca**idy, I'm on the heezy man I get so slick and greezy man All my strips pop like a greasy pan Cut your dough short like, "Easy man." Believe me, you need to come see me man My coke make smokers have a seizure man A chick'll see my hand, and leave her man You need a keys to a Beamer, like I'm Beenie Man You see me man, I'm a handsome boy I make a brawl on my car lot dance it more I be glances at y'all with ya Goofy's on Box, Pink Pather's, Snoopy's on I just put up all my jury on All my diamonds, n' my ruby's on, shinin' off the light It look like I got a Coogi on The roof of the coupe is gone, and Snoop is on You dudes is simply dumbies Y'all on the block with empty tummies, n' trying to get this money I just got a watch, n***as tryna get this from me Oh the coupe dropped it, sh** a n***a clumsy Chickens want me, N' ain't tryna hear no Yea I'm trying to pop, but I'm not trying to head though Come over here yo, come on don't be scared yo I'll I'm trying to do is get brain like the scarecrow On Wizard of Oz, look I don't be lying A lot of y'all need courage like the cowardly lion All this powder I'm buying, I can make a brick road And my nickels the size of Swizz's nose But that's gettin' old, we gone bring it up to date N' n***as know that I spit sh** for yo I'm a grown a** man, I don't play with kids I spray the led, and rip you apart like a Mr. Potato Head I bought the Bentley GT, n it's tomato red Cause I sling bu*ter of the color, of potato bread I grind for mine, dime for dime Cats hatin', but they know my rhymes line for line They tryna' perpetuate, how you gone hate n' you a fan Man, my strip poppin' like bacon in a pan My little mans 'll take them grams and walk to Brooklyn For the cake, but they ain't Making a Band I put 10 on my wrist, put 8 on my hand About 80 on my neck, cause I be scraping the pan I take a trip, I'm back with a tan, I'm with a diva Sippin' Margaritas with my back in the sand Or I'm on a yacht gettin' my co*k licked from a Chinese freak Tryna' eat Beef Yachiniku with chop sticks I just got the hard top, n' I ain't got car shop I just hit Swizz on the phone, he on the car lot I'm a star, I got love for the game But I'm still a thug mang, but a slug in yo' brain N' put blood stains on your timbs, so when the clip low Get low like the Ying Yang Twins Or your scar be all on the windows n' the wall I'm in it 'till the end y'all, win, lose, or draw [Beat 4: Dirt Of Your Shoulder] My name Ca**idy, I know you remember me man I hold twin revolvers like I'm Yosemite Sam I ride with the 4-5, but I don't drive an Infinity man I'm the guy you pretend to be man That's why when you take a shot, it's not going to be Hennessy man That pawn knocks on my evils man, damn I can't let it slide around n' ride petrified Lettin' them decide when they gon' try come test the odds F that man, I make the gat exercise N' you could be next to die, you better recognize Or you get done for, trump if you want war It's nothing, cause you ain't even uckin' with my young boys Alright you got dumb rhymes, I got dumb moths I'm sick with it, man I spit until my tongue sore N' you n***as done crimes, but I done more My bedroom closet remind you of a gun store See I'm the one you run from, not come for You could get the whole clip, plus one more You ain't never slung raw with your fake a** I was burnin' my bags determined to make cash N' if the table start turnin', I'm a take cash You betta' try to find a Teflon face mask My mom said, "Calm down, you ain't safe Ca** N' I ain't tryna see you at your way up to upstate Ca**." So I fell back, tried not to sell crack Try not to sell ki's, I ain't even sell trees Yea I chilled but, I was still gettin' bread Cause I did credit card scams with this chicken head I'm a be a hustler 'till I'm sick or dead But for my Mom's sake, I had to let the grind wait I was young at the time, I had to get my mind straight I liked to rhyme n' got nice like in nine eight I started gettin' props, then got ish on lock This was right at the Big died, n' I was missin' Pac Listen not, I was really on cash I was only 15 n' had Philly on smash For real, I still got Philly on smash I mean there's some hot knuckles, but I'm still the top knuckle N' I'm stick a block knuckle, so I'm money hungry N' I pop knuckles that try to take money from me See my money funny, n' I ain't joke a lot Cop 20 after 20 cause I smoke a lot I got an herb problem N' I ain't even drop a single yet n' I'm starting on my 3rd album N' I bet you want my dick fam Cause I met your CEO and he say, "Yo I'm a big fan" I'm a big man, cramped in a skinny body N' with the mini shotty, I jam anybody Cause I don't feel none of y'all N' with the raps or the gats, I'll k** one of y'all Awwh, Ya'll ready know I got my hand on my hammer Mind on my cake, cause I grind for the cake I do crimes for the cake I could do the time but I ain't tryna' get a case man I got the gun with me, but you don't get a one fifty I keep the nine on my waste Take a knife out and put a Nike sign on your face I put in time for the cake, that's why I'm grateful for every dime that I make I got signed now dimes climbing escape Cause my pockets puffy and it remind them of Mase, wait I'm a bad boy, get trash bags full of cash boy I'm in a Vanquish, not a Jag boy Why you mad boy, cause you catch cabs boy N' you gettin' paid less paper then my bag boy You a hater that's sad boy Cause yo' mom even liked me, I might be yo' dad boy You a messed up, I know you upset up But you better watch how you talking to your step pop Watch, I'm a be gon' in your fridge N' walk around with my boxers on in yo' crib, kid