2015 Live On Stage Battle Rap Cypher

[Verse 1: T-Top] Somebody get me out the hood man, time is ticking Last year, a nigga could’ve been a homi victim I was stuffing 20 bills in the Honda Civic Like “fuck the law” as long as my momma with it Before the bricks, man a nigga couldn’t find the women I used to tell them I love them, I had to lie to hit it My ex miss spend all her free time in stripping They’re like ”I just seen the girl”, I’m like “I’m in business” I’m from the gutter, why would I listen to y’all opinion? The voicebox ain’t the same with a hollow in it I turn into a different nigga when I’m tired of pitching Man, I’ll shoot my own work if a dollar missing Bar raiser, Carolina star player No time for Harvard, I went to school with a hard shaver I had a job, cooking, called it hard labor Park Life, we’re the bar shaper [Verse 2: DNA & (K-Shine)] BET Award, (that’s a fact) I’m charged up, (let’s kill this shit), back to back We wilding, (feeling like Kiss, nigga), we styling Outkast, Big Boi, (we like to hold 3000) It’s on now, ( wish you niggas would bring the wall down) Let them try snoop, don’t worry, (I got my dog pound) Now it’s two targets to think, (that’s the short clown) Make the kid nap in your crib; (Rick Ross style Oh god, they couldn’t find a prison that can outbar me) Tried to go right, I went left, you can’t southpaw me (Have you next to kin in the box; that’s without Barbie) Have it kick together and spin on them; house party We’re doing this since Smack DVD The work uncut, (like the old BET Niggas can’t see the world), ‘cause they’re wrapped in [?] (They want killers on the cypher), now they’re access granted I swear I’ll leave them red man, there’s never been a method to it (I guarantee any beat I get on, I’ma execute it) Birdies only stay fly, nigga we gon’ never lose it This 2-on-2 shit the best to do it [Verse 3: Charlie Clips] Should I go black power? Should I just give ‘em some bars? Miracle Whip; soft white shit in the jar Fiends singing “it’s alright”; Kendrick Lamar For the dough, boy, I'll let the tre enter your car Then bow, I always got two Glocks with me And a pump like the black nigga who shot Ricky And a Tommy, in case my whole crew not with me Got the power to lift the ghost with two Glock 50’s I tried to tell these haters that I’ve been fire Too many characters, it’s messing up the empire Niggas lying on how they gon’ blaze a shell Your squad ass, your camp full of K Michelles Got an attitude like Eazy-E I went from EBT to BET I let this mac burn your disc like a DVD The clip drop out, I guess it want its GED Woah, if you don’t want to follow, I don’t give a damn If you do, add TheRealCharlieClips at Instagram Aye Bus, I had to show ‘em I’m a problem What’s the best borough in the world? Harlem [Verse 4: Rain 910] Cop drew his pistol with my hands up high Tell ‘em I ain’t scared of nothing, it’s a perfect day to die They’re shooting, badge on ruthless The way they get away with it, might as well get the nooses Now picture us hand to hand I shed tears when I see pictures of Sandra Bland Moment of silence No more marching, I’m condoning the violence in all of the riots Scream payback as we click up and get them Innocent victims killed by a menacing system They might ban my verse for the fact that it wasn’t crafted To make you act ratchet, simple mathematics But this is Huey Newton suited for his final dance This isn’t for Caitlyn Jenner or Empire fans This only for the soldiers in the field Loading up their ammo ‘cause they know it’s getting real Eyes of a trafficker, rewrite the vernacular If Trump get elected, I’m packing up back to Africa I’m not a rapper, I just rapidly report the thoughts of the Urban community [?], give it back to ya It play loud in your home, your kids breath it Thought of daughters of Mileys, sons of the Slim Jesus Now we’re even, as long as it keeps repeating I have every kid in the burbs Cuban Linking Free Po, Rock, Gutta Free, and Si They can trap your body, but can’t freeze your mind I’m conflicted, want my people to walk like this But the d-boys is saying “Rain, talk that shit” So I’m live from the gutter nigga, I ain’t sleep in five days Young Frank Sinatra, partner I did it my way Don’t let me hit the blazer button, I can cause a crime wave *do* *do* *do*, leave your blood on my Cavallis Papa script and the chick play up in the right day Eating dinner at red sticks, I don’t dine at Fridays The trappers, man I’m wishing them the best With the ghetto [?], coat fresher than a prom date High school dropout, still they’re watching my pockets Loopie, I spend hooptie money on watches Salute me or shoot me boy, get your muscle up Carolina king, Fayetteville’s favorite hustler We got a customer