J.R. Writer - 9 Minute Freestyle lyrics

The dog is still up to toss, supporting a cut for cost I'm lost in another source, come talk to a underboss No matter if I sell l, still be in jail, hell Cause even my Pel Pel snorkel is bu*ter-soft It's the dude with the eight-oh, make you chew the potato I'm just the ruthless of ruthless -- your best move is to lay low I come through with the [inaudible] QB on rainbow Jesus head on chill, ill blueberry halo I'm back to the raw, creep; my back to the wall, peep The hard show of condos, relax down in Wall Street Still bagging for sure, cheap Plus, walk around with a bag of dust like I've been vacuuming all week See, I smile -- wild, I'm fly, child Shop til I drop, ock, they loving my style No less than five thou' So you better be talking the hair over your eyes if you ever say that I browse We maneuver, yes -- do it wet through the West Stretch no less than a stupid x I lay the truth is left, uptown to dust down My man Buddha Bless got it like the buddha fest But also trust me, they all so dusty I been eating well -- got a little gordo husky But the broads all love me And keep a Barbie that'll make you swear you ain't seen a meaner doll since Chucky Regardless the artist, there's no one as hard as R Try starving, but pardon R, you can't harbin a monster, pa R is too far from y'all In other words, the cat with the squirrel is out of this world A Martian with bars from Mars I'll target your entourage Larkins will part your mob Gotta get exotic whips -- you ordering R&R I floss up in foreign cars Drop six Beretta rim, topless way before them little white girls in Mardi Gras Hardy har -- hater, I laugh, wave around cash This paper is major, player; I save some in stash They stay on my..., grain in the dash Gators I flash; fresh, yes -- my fitteds come cased up in gla** Dag, I been better; biz cheddar ...the cash, you ga**er She'll be down south faster than M. Betha The limb stretcher, a.k.a. chin checker Man, this rap is just too real for Vendetta Heifer, who is this hard? You is retard thinking you could move with the God I found a boo, I menage; she picked her b**bs and her bra A student, she Cuban -- her father into Cuban cigars And ma always down, holler Brown 'pala S.S Fresh-dressed -- chrome wheels, chrome grills; sounds proper The town mobster who gave all the town toppers Club, tour bus, down to the Crown Plaza Yes, this the freak; s** for a week Sex til I peak, skeet skeet, mess up the sheets Neck to her cheek or next to her cheeks Yes, this is another executive at the executive suite And g'ing them was nothing, keep up with your buzzing Remember night times and had to re-up with my cousin Broke day -- sh**, we had to be up and be shuffling Couple pies, kinda like the pizza in the oven The streets were just corruption, measly and disgusting Triple goose, hit the stoop, heated my construction Ki's that I was hustling -- one for ten, two for twenty Steve Martin, I could get em cheaper by the dozen Pushed for my own bread, took it from known dreads On the hot block, ock, I'll push ya with chrome lead Cats who fronted got wooden or chrome legs And just pistol-whipped and now look like the Coneheads Listen, doggie, chill -- I'm a boss for real I want the house in the villa, ill on the hill So I'mma dog my deal, give it the scorch you feel And be on billboards til a cat bored with bills Try hurting me, you'll wind up in infirmary Nursery, burgandy, certainly emergency Punch to the face if it's a damn smirk I see You know [inaudible] Hey pal, sit in a ditch, trip where you trip Squeeze the five -- need a ride? Give you a lift Chickens just flip when they see the gliss in the wrist Don't talk back, but they keep giving me lip I'm sick, which be effing with me The G fronting I see, I leave stuck in a tree Please, I will have you ski cuffed to a V And drive your stupid a** across the G.W.B., see Yes, dude sane; Tec do aim Bloaw bloaw, get you slain -- guess who's blamed? Me -- I'm the bad guy who fly in that stretch new Range With TV's like a Jet Blue plane, mayne Yeah, you're man's bragging No more damn cabbing They didn't stop for me when they saw my hands flagging Now you tan-bagging cause your pants sagging? You ain't a boss -- you dorks sit on the bandwagon And that's just half the matter Who sicker, badder? Ask about me -- I wave around the biggest dagger Ask about yourself -- you're the biggest slacker Stop admiring mines and go get a swagger You doziered me -- I'm someone no one could see You're broke as a joke My rose-gold get freeze, the lowest degree Darn, so much boogers on my arm You would swear I wipe my nose with my sleeve So the birds roam; word, homes They want my cell, hell Pager, e-mail, then my work phone Damn a chirp tone, cause straight up The Jacob got it looking like I copped a wrist full of birth stones Those are rocks for real -- I cop on chill I cop on hill, rag top DeVille I got a deal, so I ain't gotta deal But I'mma still take out ten and go cop some krills And have my cousin stretch He gonna double, yes Bring out the hoopdie, put away that bubble Lex Any s**er step, I'mma just rush his neck With two toys, rude boy -- I get nuff respect It's nothing to J to leave you stuck where you stay Have you clutching a trey, you'll be ducking a stray The lust how I play When you're nice and up-and-coming, everybody got something to say It's either, "You sound like him," "You're wack, you're silly" You're too tall, too small, fat, or skinny He bluffing, he shaking, or He gonna grow up to be nathin' With not enough education That's why I stay up and be pacing And yell eff you gonna love and hate him If you don't love me, you hating Not a jerk sick as this, with words ridiculous He's only nineteen -- I got birth certificates I know you mad as hell, you ain't never pa** a cell Come to bing, you just sing like Pat LaBelle And you wack as hell Listen, chimp -- you ------- still would stink even if you used Vagisil, hell The chickens sit and yell I'm sickening, you smell? And glistening, you tell Plus I still will hit your whip up with some shells That'll throw your V in the air quicker than Pharrell I'm way in the zone, Dikembe Malone These small guys are small fries, leave this player alone You ain't waving on chrome Any casualties, this f*g'll be at the academy Like, "Here's your statement, Mahone" Don't mistaken me, homes For all this gray in the stone I still squeeze a trey and let em lay in your bones Eff if you lift weights or you tone I'mma empty and throw the pick in your face like Razor Ramon Uh, let me hear a raise in your tone Prick, I k** You gonna need a semi-steel Come to bricks, I move em semi still And get the weight off faster than Trim-Spa will My nills, I don't get weed in the gone But I might go get some weed when I'm gone On the beach, had a reef keeping me calm With a bad Waikiki freak in some thongs Who can't wait to breath on the bong It feels good to walk past palm trees with trees on your palm Then hit her twice in the morn And see how all these player haters want to beef with the Don Cause VVS in my charm from my sleeves to my arm 23's on the lawn, I just sleep on the yawn Cause admit it, you ain't never seen nobody this sleek since the Fonz So don't confuse the beast For all the losers, creeps If you rich, prick, we got tools and heat And take everything down to your shoes and sneaks