Kurupt - Kurupt Freestyle lyrics

[Kurupt Drunken Master] "Yo, I'ma do this like as if my mothaf**in' homeboy Rakim Was standin' right in fromt of me right now- Y'knaw-I-mean?" "Drunken Master" "Our freestyle's like, you know Wit' a big, fat blunt in my hand And some beer in my other hand" G'd up, n***a- O.G Yeah, n***a- G'd up, n***a- O.G Drunken Master G'd up, n***a- O.G Dogg Pound Yeah, check it- Check it Put it on I could flip a style- Break 'em down, flip a brick a mile Let 'em know I leave bodies in piles Too versitile, I could even blurry the clouds And makin' all visions blurry- Everybody worry like 'Oh, no! He's bustin'!' Then I bust in the flurries And they don't know about me, homeboy, and observe Get all served on the top of the curve and break 'em down All the time, tryin' to bust a rhyme You just a b**h by nature, snitch and I hate 'cha Break 'em down all the time, I'm the earthquaker Bring somethin' to the door you never saw before Like a 44 sawed-off in my Impala My homeboy's about to pop two in your collas Lay these n***as down, homeboy, make 'em holla You don't know about a gangsta, homey Comin' through, just a pranksta, homey Flip it up, get it right- Ignite mics Twice as nice, cold as ice- Oh, so precise It be Kurupt, youg Gotti- Headlinin' Break 'em down in the potty- Can't nobody Do it like me, homey, and I know it f** wit' me, n***a, I'm the Poltergeist Poet When it comes to styles, I got 'em by the dozens; Just ask my momma, my fatha and my cousins They'll tell ya the same- Know 'em by name Run through then spit flame Homeboys, I hit 'cha dead on your terrain They don't wanna f** around They don't got enough money to challenge my campaign These rhymes, make 'em flow like champagne Drive 'em down all the time then never, ever remain Substain, substanstula, Dracula Break 'em down Blackula, tarantula You don't know about styles, homey I make 'em backflip, attack sh**, I rap sh** Free sh**, M.C.'s don't know I come through and speed sh** You know, f**in' blaze-the-weed sh** You just a b**h, homey- You just a b**h Bustin' a rhyme, you just a b**h! b**hes is all I know 'cause that's all I see When I look at your camp, claimin' that you amped Homeboys get vamped and silent I bring it all, homeboy, violence They don't know about me, don't make me get violent 'cause I make you leave the whole place in silence- It's silent Huh, yeah, yeah Wh-what-wh-what! Yeah, yeah "Check it out" "Let me take a toke" "Yeah, yeah, let's blaze this weed you-know-what-I'm-sayin'? Drunken Master and Kurupt!" [Drunken Master] Pop the champagne, blaze the weed Professional Chedda Chasers got what 'chu need Ya don't stop, uh Ya don't quit Pop the champagne, blaze the weed Professional Chedda Chasers got what 'chu need Ya don't stop... [Instrumental switches to "It Ain't My Fault"'s instrumental] [Kurupt] "For my n***as down in the South, Atlanta Check it out" I heard you had somethin' that I want I heard you was in the back, I was in the front So what I'm gonna do besides switch up And get 'em in the side- See 'em, make 'em b**h up Punk, you don't know me, n***a I heard you talkin' before, know you walkin' for The side like you 'bout to escape but I'm 'bout to make Sure this whole place is draped in yellow tape, homey And I want the money first- Get 'em right Disperse one rhyme, hit 'em wit' one verse, n***a Neva, eva would you say it again Or I'ma come through one time and spray it again, mothaf**a This party is mines, rhyme for rhyme Line for line, genuine dime Break 'em down like Napalm exploadin' On they block on the drop of a dime, I'ma come through and rock I serve 'em like rocks non-stop Shake the whole spot, they lookin' at me like 'What I got?' n***a, I'm lookin' at you like 'n***a, what you got?' Claimin' that you gon' come through and bust it like 2Pac Homey, that's my n***a- That's my homey You don't know nothin' about it- n***a, I doubt it If you ain't him, then you just a wanna be Somethin' like, you-can-grab-it like, tryin'-to-be like See like, crip like- n***a, come through, twist like You from Twin like you ain't, punk When it comes to rhymes, I can do what I want Break these n***as down quick from the back to the front Pull out my pistol- I let it whistle like whistlin' Homey, then if you 'bout to do it then start pistolin' If not, n***a, shut the f** up then Or I'ma come through, n***a, start bustin'! I got D-A-Z, I got the S-S- S-N-double O-P, I got the D- D-P-G to the C- C. n***a, you don't understand What a real is, n***a. Punk. ("Punk, punk...") [Record being stopped]