Termanology - How Many Emcees Freestyle lyrics

[Verse 1: Chris Rivers] I be the Latin Em, Latin Biggie, Pac and Nas flow I drop gold I drop a hater comin' like Camacho I got those, kamikaze hobbies ‘fore my eye close Hopscotch over obstacles to get the cheese that's not yours It's mental, every average rapper bars are cancelled Always toss my arms to the stars and grab a handful Been through a lot of sh** that you n***as don't know or handle Sneaking into Costcos and filling up on the samples Hungry never try to question my appetite The homie get the shoulder til I rap and they act polite A lot of the other rappers are at best at only half as nice Can't afford the alphabet no plan B I had to write [?], the doper [?] Got cold, don't own a heater Got clothes, holes in sneakers Got home, smoke some reefer Got foes, [?] heaters Got songs, blow the speakers If I want the Grammy, sell it for the goal like FIFA Mind tricks the body, body thinks the mind's crazy Worst to the daddy daddy, makes the time wavy Time's a fine line, but it's my time baby So if you ain't a dime you couldn't clown me if you paid me It's the park spitter that stomps n***as like mosh pitters Hit your heart with the sh** that label me a hard hitter How many Emcees can stand against Chris Well let me see, I'mma break it on some Einstein sh** Look E equals MC² And I'm E times infinity so MC's scards Tryna make some M so you n***a see me there And I'm E everyday energy beast when I beat these snares, n***a Rivers [Interlude] How many Emcee must get dissed Buckshot brrp I'm solo [Verse 2: Termanology] Uh, It's been a long time comin' Used to fill up them duffle backs full of onions Before I was most wanted I pitch from a cold corners So long to turn summer just keepin it 100 Damn!, 365 gettin' high, Spanish right chicken thighs Mom's barely gettin' by, all of you cats gettin' fly You can eat sh** and die, all my goons specialized in Rob-a-Fella enterprise Damn, we got the grease and bean g's And seein' cheese from movin' pees And being ease, my b**h V enemies, and concrete always clean Pocket full of green she wacker wackin' the mean You gotta deuce baby that's a 2 dollar bill And he prolly headin' where them put in pop hills My chick flawless for real yours be runnin' train The whole team hit her like we jumped her in a gang Choppin' up the whole thang I'm talkin' about c**aine It's guarantee to changes the color on you nose ring Raw, I'mma give it to ya with no trivia roll out like c**aine Straight from Bolivia Listen Papo I make moves like El Chapo Wrap up the whole pack and put the fish in her taco I hit my man like "yo homie you got that gwap, tho?" He said, "I moved the whole pack." Come through, I said, [?] [Outro] Give the fiends what they want Don't front I got you open Hurricane T, flood the block, legendary [?] Chris what up [?]