Dukedagod - Funkmaster Flex Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics
DukeDaGod:
It's Dipset all day, The Movement Moves On
Cam'ron:
New York City, you are now tuned in to America's #1 station, Hot 97
In conjunction with America's #1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex
In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label, Dipset
And right now I'm accompanied by greatness (Uh-huh)
My man Hell Rell's in the building, BX borough. (Uh-huh)
J.R. Writer's here, you know he's the Writer Of Writers
Right now, I don't know where Santana's out, he probably in Brazil
Act up homie
They told us not to stay at Def Jam, we eatin' over there
You was right, put work on they block
Sell more than they sell, I feel you
Ay yo Capo act up, do what you do homie, go 'head homie
I'm waitin' in the wings for somebody to act stupid, I'm right here, you heard
I used to be Jaffe Joe, I used to be Killa
I think I'ma go with something different this year
I'ma go with
Hook
J.R. Writer & Cam'ron:
We guerilla breathin', we guerilla breedin'
It's the Dips, get the drift, this is Killa Season
Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy
It's King Jaffe Joe, get ya tape decks ready
We guerilla breathin', Killa Season
Feel the evening, killin' season
Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy
It's Diplomat Records, get ya tape decks ready
Cam'ron:
Say what cats did I hang with, slang with, bang bang with
Blain gangsta ganked it, left lane to the banquet
Live from the borough where Rich Porter became rich
Purple Rain in the rain explains it, on that same spit, spit
To the day of a reign, I aim and flame leave a lame lit
Clips changed, obtain bricks, exchange bricks (bricks)
Bricks exchanged, throw the kid some change
Look homeboy, I ain't tryna get no names
Must've sniffed cocaine, lookin' at my Diplo chain
The biscuit turn you to Bisquick mixed with shrimp lo mein
Old ladies just stop and say it's yo' thang
Can't deny 'em, look down my wrist go bling
Bling bling, glistening, come and get some cash
First kiss my ring, oh no, well kiss my ass
Back in my zone holmes, get ya mind right
The 2-3 or 3-2, naw, it's the twilight
It's the highlights of my life
Every gun, car, crib, chickenhead that I like
10 on the dope, 10 that's beside knife
10 in the hood, 10 that's besides night
And they tied tight, my family ties tight
10 town 200 bricks, forget 5 mics
Hook
J.R. Writer:
You gotta feel the heathen, we guerilla breathin'
It's the Dips, get the drift, this is Killa Season
Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy
It's King Jaffe Joe, get ya tape decks ready
You gotta feel the heathen, we guerilla breathin'
It's the Dips, get the drift, this is Killa Season
Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy
It's King Jaffe Joe, get ya tape decks ready
Cam'ron:
That's one and out, let's go, let's keep it movin', that's one song, I mean let's go
You wanna get, I mean Hell Rell you ain't say nuthin' that whole song
Let's go, let's go, I mean that's one and out, that's one song down
That's heatrock, let's go, I'ma step out
J.R. lace 'em up, I'ma come back in a minute, ya'll get busy
Alright we got this man (Hell Rell)
Lemme hear a hook on this
Hook
J.R. Writer:
It's kinda hard to doubt that we ain't a slaughterhouse
Dip radio, you're now tuned in to the Hardest Out
Slash the first to ride, you ain't never heard of fly
Take it how you want it, nigga my Gs is certified
Hell Rell:
I slow-flowed y'all to death
These hustlers actin' like they coke hard to stretch
Any broads wantin' me to put cash in they purse
Like they wrote half of my verse, nope
I give a few some credit (Dipset)
Ya dude bring my cash on a verse
Plus I hold a welfare card, cuz that's how I work
I'm 'bout to buy a Aston Martin, throw you in the trunk
Be at the Funk Flex show wit' you in the trunk
But they said I couldn't do it, they put me to the test
But I proved to all them suckers I was worthy of success
Teachers said I wasn't uh, was wastin' time in her class
It was more like she was wastin' mine, I had them dimes on the Ave
Momma said I'd be dead, shot, locked up in the can
Nope, got it poppin' with Cam, up in a drop like sha-bam
But why they knockin' that man, cuz of the rocks on his hand
Or the Air Forces they'll never see cuz they got copped in Japan
Damn, man, I know he a gangsta, and he pop his steel
He supposed to be dead or locked up, why he got a deal
He was just shootin' a Uzi, now he shootin' a movie
And all his mans startin' to act like groupies
I slow-flowed y'all to death
These hustlers actin' like my flow hard to catch
Man, Diplomats, we the strongest force
On or off the court we ball and ball for sport
Hook
J.R. Writer:
It's kinda hard to doubt that we ain't a slaughterhouse
Dip radio, you're now tuned in to the Hardest Out
Slash the first to ride, you ain't never heard of fly
Take it how you want it coward, our Gs is certified
Hell Rell:
Always sleepin' high, with visions of my enemies beggin' for mercy
Crawling on the floor like a centipede
Screamin' "Rell please don't shoot me, I got children"
"Should've thought about those snotty-nosed kids when you was snitchin'"
But now I'm on a mission, yeah, fresh out the kitchen
A stand-up dude who only sit when he shhh
You sit when you pissin', dude listen
My talent was God-given, got wise by hard livin'
I sleep all day, smoke haze, manage` women
I spit these hard rhythms, it feel like a car hit 'em
So leave that boy alone, can't you see he in the zone
Dudes try to be like 'em, can't you see he gettin' cloned
All this blue and this yellow, can't you see it in the stones
And yeah we brought them hammers Cam, we never leave 'em alone
So move back, I'm poppin' off the .4
Heaven let me in because I'm knockin' on yourdoor
It's Prada on my whores
And naw, I don't really do too many funerals, but I gotta go to yours
I gotta see the face of a coward
Please man, let the homie breathe, give me a taste of that power
My chain hate my watch, my watch hate my ring
My jewelry goin' crazy, gotta get some new bling
So all praise is due to Hell Rell, it's the new religion
Smack ya girl, pop two in her, triple vision
Hook 2x
Cam'ron:
That's two and out, let's go Dennis, you movin' slow Dennis
Let's go Dennis, that's two and out
Good work, good work
J.R., you up man, hold on
Stop it, stop it
D, I mean, you got somethin' to say, that's two and out
We early, KOCH put that E.P. together, that's two songs (Next and dirty)
I mean c'mon, I mean excuse me Flex
Excuse me, 2 minutes, can I get 2 minutes
Let's do what we told to do
New York, we run this here
I mean pa, listen it's J.R.'s turn
I'ma do the chorus you ready
Lemme get this son, I just wrote son
Lemme see I'ma, it's my turn, I ain't get a chorus off yet
I'ma go in first then, a'ight
That's three songs and out, let's do it
Hook
Cam'ron:
My dude ridin', he ridin' in Lamborghinis
The oyster mixed with linguini, you hear me
He's a rider
All in together, together we gettin cheddar
Yo Chedda, we get together, you hear me
He's a rider
My dude ridin', he ridin' in Lamborghinis
The oyster mixed with linguini, you hear me
He's a rider
All together, together we gettin' cheddar
You dudes, you know better, why
He's a rider
J.R. Writer:
Listen pal, I ain't gotta spit, child you is not as sick
Foul for a while, look, my style is anonymous (Anonymous)
Pound for a pound of piff, smile cuz I'm drownin' it
You's a fake G like a thousand in counterfeits
I can show you how to flip that bird
How to hit that curb, how to get that served
Young'n, I'm the shhh, that's word
You's a prick, fag, herb, you get pimped-slapped, heard
Huh, come get wit' a rebel, I put the kick to the pedal
The clip in the metal
I'm sickenin' nephew, listen here
Your F-in' engineer couldn't get to my level
Dipset is forever B, bet y'all remember me
Stretch all my enemies, Heckler'll send 'em three
But, I got a Tech that'll get a G
To drop his flag like a ref on a penalty
I'm fresher than lemon squeeze, wrist-wrap chill
Pitch-black car wit' them pitch-black wheels
Nice more stash box, big black steel
Leave you at the red light, the kid's that real
Steppin' in his Nikes, freshest in your sight
You ain't never seen these F-in' Pelle in ya life
I throw on fresh gear, throw on fresh wear
This is something you will have to throw on next year
Yeah
Hook
J.R. Writer:
Listen scrap, believe me, you need crack to see me
I'm a classic, one of your old scratched up CDs
Check my swag it's easy
As you can see, I do the damn thing and I ain't Fab or Jeezy
I stepped through the trap with Weezy
Front of the tenements
Posted up on Post, 100 Dominicans
That'll clap you soon as you go to beef with J
Throw a couple at you once they hear "Dida le" (Tato)
Put ya brains all across the pavement
You niggaz singin' like you singin', how you talk to agents
But drop my name, and I'ma stop
Throw you in a box like some caps at a hop-scotch game
I cop drops man, come peep what I whip whore
The '62, got 'em jumpin like a 6-4
Soon as I hit tour, brrr, caught a chill
Sleeves on freeze, add up to a quarter mill
I'm 'bout to talk my deal, that's what a thug about
Killa, hit Sharon, tell her I need another house!
I dig ya mother out then put her in a cab
Gas her up then hit the hooker wit them slabs
What you think, naw I ain't a rookie wit' it fag
She'll have to boof that in a cookie like a pad
You rookies are just mad, you can't say shit to me
You gotta get rid of me, I'm 'bout to make history
Hook
Cam'ron:
I mean, hold on, that's three and out, hold on
Don't even play yet, put that on pause B
New York City, we gonna take a slight intermission
Because if you do this up here, you bitin'
We knocked three songs out, you can only do it in one take
That means we didn't punch in, that means I one taped it
J.R. one taped it, Hell Rell one taped it, we chorused it out
That means the business is right
The rhymes is right and if you come up here and try freestyle a song
you're bitin (You swagger-jackin')
I mean you did a solo song Hell Rell, right
That means you repped BX Borough, you repped the Dominicans
I'm 140 and Lenox to the death
So we might as well do somethin' together
Capo, get ready to take the mu'fu-uh
Capo, take the Maserati up to 200, we goin' in, lets go
Tape this for Santana when he get back
Let's get 16s off, I got the chorus on this, y'all back up
Let's go, I got the chorus
You ready, New York City we run the mu'fuckin' building, pardon me
Take it, take it back B, I messed up because I'm talkin' too much
Take it from the top, take it from the top
New York, I mean, I mean I know y'all goin' home and write hard tonight
I know y'all goin' home and write hard tonight
Cam'ron:
Y'all Diplomats, y'all kickin' is chicken scratch
What you can't g-get wit' that, homeboy go flip a pack
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
I said it's the Diplomats, what y'all kickin' is chicken scratch
Y'all can't get wit' that, homeboy go flip a pack
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
J.R. Writer:
Listen, I'm worth a couple figures, always hurtin' all these niggaz
That I'm OZ, tryna stuff the purple in the swisher
Convertible just picture, how I swerve up on your sister
Wit' a dance, tip dance that'll turn her to a stripper
Yo the burner by the zipper, burn 'em, turn 'em to a pisser
Shit 'em mister in a river, you gon' learn that I am sicker
Determined to be bigger, birds I serve 'em to these niggaz
Call the cops, they ain't seen these type of murderers since Hitler
Shit, if I know 'em, I'm quick to expose 'em
Wristery frozen, reason why your chick on my scrotum
I'm lifted and poked on shit that is potent
Fresh out the pot, 2Pac couldn't picture my rollin'
Hook
Cam'ron:
I said it's the Diplomats, y'all kickin' is chicken scratch
Y'all can't g-get wit' that, homeboy go flip a pack
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
I said it's the Diplomats, what y'all kickin is chicken scratch
Y'all can't get wit' that, homeboy go flip a pack
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset
