Spittin' Freestyle (murda Mook && Cyssero Diss) Lyrics

The block pop, so da strip fall.
Rocks got a fist full. Bull pop shit, dat hot shit I got a clip fo’.
When I start sparkin’, it be barkin’ like pitbulls.
Matta fact rotweilers when I let dem shots holla.
Chicks on my cock, I’m still on the block holla.
S’Cops on da block, they still gon’ cop holla.
I g-got sense, and da*s why I got dollas.
I was told the rules, I’m old school, like my pop fatha.
I was showed da moves, schooled by the olda dudes.
How to show improve, so I move like a soldier move.
Real militant, I’m ill still killin’ it.
I’m real. Guys da*s paralyzed and still feelin’ it.
Yeah I’m still on feet and my toes.
Gettin’ higher den da President, you sweeta den doze.
Gettin’ higher den a nose bleed, see to muh shows.
f**k a mayback, I pull da back seats to da rolls.
f**k a GT, I pull up in a CLS.
The guts soft like muh female breats.
Is it a D-12? Yes.
I cop da un-copable nigga, you can’t stop the un-stopable nigga, I pop a shot thru you niggaz.
And I was like a pop to you niggaz. I gave you a flow. Adopted you niggaz. I did a lot fo’ you niggaz.
And this da f**kin’ thanks I get?
You my son, you should thank my d**k.
You take my shit, flip it around, and now you think you sick?
I guess you think you Cas, but I think you trash.
And I spank dat a*s. You aint f**kin’ wit me.
You wouldn’t even rap like dat if it wasn’t fer me.
Wow! I been had my weight up.
How you gon’ battle me wit a style dat I made up?
Wow! When I’m home, it’s envy.
I feelin’ like the ?Bob?, when he was on da fone wit Jimmy.
Wow! What the f**k is goin’ on out hea’?
What the f**k is niggaz doin’ out hea’?
Niggaz drawn out hea’. Ya block hot? I put a drawin’ out thea’.
My block hot, your shit warm out thea’.
So we goin’ out thea’. Set up shop and get it on out thea’.
I’m on point like a thorn out hea’. Come to Philly, I’m a don out hea’.
Yeah youh know imma boss dawg. Nah, this aint IZOD, it’s LaCross dawg.
I floss dawg and I stay wit my jewels on.
You prolly wouldn’t see dis much ice in a hail storm.
It’s nuttin to flash, but f**kin’ wit Cas will get you buck or buck –n- a half.
Cuz’ it’s only a hand full of rappers da*s touchin’ da cash.
And most of dem are getting’ f**ked in they a*s.
There’s snakes up in the gra*s, but Ca*s gon’ blast when da beef is on.
I walk wit the shells, and I aint got no Adidas on.
And I squeezed da John, even if da law watchin’.
I’m too hard. Da rap version of Bernard Hopkins. Nigga.