Freestyle Cypher

[Intro - Crooked I]

Yo, you niggas making them Vibe articles, ''Best Rappers Alive''

Y'all niggas don't know what the fuck y'all talking about

Ha ha ha ha, niggas can't rap no more, but my niggas can

Ladies and gentlemen

You remember when niggas had to know how to rhyme?

Way back, this the ''cypher 2''

It ain't for you radio niggas, ha ha

[Verse 1 - Demetrius Capone]

We the best spittin', best livin' or dead

I write fly shit like kites sent to the feds

To battle niggas inside prison - listen

I been spittin' them death sentences for a life sentencin', yep

Niggas die behind bars, I mean die behind shit that I said

I guess I'm like Mike Vick in the head

I kill niggas who think they bite vicious

But you a female, dog, that's why y'all like bitchin' instead

I think of hot shit like pyrokinesis

Speaking of kinesis, whith psychokinesis I'm squeezing a rifle

Leaving no prints, and I stole your pieces

To leave you without arms like the Venus de Milo

Jesus Christ, he can squeeze with his eyes closed

Or blindfolded, and knock a fly off a guy's nose

Spitting liquid nitro

Cardiac or Cartier, either way my ticker's ice cold

[Verse 2 - Julius Luciano]

I'll get a .45 if you test me, I don't mean a low score

Ratchet, let you have it like I don't need it no more

I'm so great, I roast these MC's for dough, ay

Then donate the proceeds to your team, now go pay a ghostwriter okay

Your flow seems to need some mo' flavor, now go play

And don't speak to me I'm so vein

I boast, I'm low-key, conceited

I don't even put ''do re'', before ''mi'' you see

I don't see no way like dopefiends

You need a hit of my spit, one dose leave you weak

Something that sounds like, oh-in-ne-in should go here but naw

It's no fair for y'all

I flow so rare it's no error or flaws

Oh yeah beef, when I go there to draw

Bang! Man that gat scar niggas

I'll blow you to Madagascar nigga

[Verse 3 - Dice Dinero]

Who wanna fuck with this raw nigga? I come through at night and snatch your life

I shoot your bitch, that's how I Mac/Mack your wife

Then shoot her again in the afterlife

See I'm a problem, your beef to each his own; I'll eat your soul

When I go into a ether zone I'm on the eastside of Long Beach

I'm the beast you don't see, the Grim Reapers's clone

Give me a pen and a pad and a microphone

And you can wind up with your muh'fucking speakers blown

My flow is acid, my spit's sulfuric

I bury you with the lyrics beneath the Earth, lift this finger

Disappearing, listen here it's crystal clear

My shots'll lift your soul, I mean lift your spirits

Cause every bar in my arsenal is arsenic

Attract arsonists, I'm more armed with arctic spit

Don't nobody want it like heavy smokers

My gun's most likey loaded with bodies on it

Call a morgue cause it holds carcasses

[Verse 4 - Kenny Siegel]

Brrap brrap! Pack, we the best 'round

Fuck these old dudes who lost they touch as if they was paralyzed from the neck down

Clique of tyrants, you can call us the New West now

We a virus, you can call us the New West Nile

We harder than trying to spot a spit with bad vision

So niggas might wanna be easy like fast bitches

I'm past wicked slash vicious

If we clash I'll blast clips and leave your presence/presents in the past like last Christmas

You get erased by a gorilla for realer ay

With the steel that I conceal, I can seal your fate

Skip a wake, I'll bury you while you still awake

I'll put niggas in they place as if I'm in real estate

My clique deep, we skape in circles on some cold shit

As if we trying to figure skate, and pull off the figure eight

I don't think y'all men straight, naw, I think y'all menstruate

I'll leave holes in you like the figure eight, leave your figure ate

[Verse 5 - Royce da 5'9]

The Horse Shoe, Gang

You from Long Beach or Detroit boy you annoyed of course you bang

Look at that Bugatti, look at the body on that passenger

Take your top off you then body the bottom half of ya

If it's drama I'mma take the whole family out

Maxwell Sheffield, that's right, I'll take the nanny out

I'll beat that drum boy

I'm like Travis Barker with an AK-47

But I'll be deep in that spot though

I got my Mexican chick, 'bout to go put my beef in her taco

Haha, pardon my candor

But anytime I was ever questioned the gun spark was my answer

Pull your tool out, we ain't in here with fakers

We can turn this into Cleveland vs. the Lakers

Haha, a shootout, death I rule out

Yes, we way too busy murking your crew ou

[Verse 6 - Crooked I]

I'm the nigga you should call when when kicking the raw written

I mastered what yall call spitting

My ice cold sentence is frost bitten

I'm shitting on y'all gripping the sawed off

You a lost kitten gettin your paws gnawed off

By the big dog listen

No matter what prodigy thought of me I should be commonly known as the best

Point the chrome at ya chest

Never lazy, get crazy busy so the bullets move in harmony through ya bone and ya flesh

A supervillian, I'm ill as bizzaro, I'll kill ya tommorow

Then a niggas chillin in Kilimanjaro

How many bullets from the steel are u willing to borrow

You dying to ride, fuck it, I lend you a carload

You'll die in ya ride, wife trying to hide

Cyanide poison ya bride, she dying inside

I walk the streets of Long Beach with a screw loose

Talking to myself, niggas think I'm on a bluetooth