"Rap God" Freestyle

[Hook 1] I'm beginning to feel like a black God (black God) God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For) Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours) I think you're way overrated, your shit ain't that hard (That Hard) [Verse 1] But for me to run up with them shooters would be a bad scene I'm from the back blocks where they clap rockets I'm the king of New York And that pap blockin Got a mac cocked, ain't no slap boxin' They had B.I.G. in a bigger coffin, ever since Dave Dinkins was still in office, with everybody hatin killin office (fuck that) Momma should of had a quick abortion But as soon as they start reachin more shells Critical, pull a fourfifth pull a forfeit this ziggity >??? You don't really wanna slip into it cuz Pap is a tragedy That's backwards strap in the back of the Cadillac Black click clack blasting the mac naturally Pap bang mines I present this critical rap attached what? While I'm mastering that, it's really fatal, I rock your motherfuckin cradle And go take a nap with a bunch of maggots And you'll have to relax but in real life it was high cronic I was puffing bag after bag that's a fact How could he not go all I shoot is teflons 40 calibers gats Rappers a bragging enough I'm serious, but he's actually trash He crabbed to me i cracked his crash Feel the rap for your majesty I create so rapidly fast [Hook 2] I'm beginning to feel like a black God (Black God) God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For) Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours) I'm so underrated I am the Black God (Black God) [Verse 2] Everybody want to be in a precinct They snitching, its sad to see they way raps are Come move with the movement, drop jewels and remove the confusion Everybody wanna use an illusion, spit a verse from the bad boy, did nothing but use and abuse him (Biggie!) MC's be fakin', it's proven, I'm crussin' cos I'm shooting Jump in a vehicle and bust a nine! Who wrote the Blueprint? Me? I'm a product of Malcolm X Willie Lynch, no not him W.E.B. Dubois, Free O. J., Rest in peace to Johnnie Cochran We ride it enough today Show up, Show ‘nough, we define the definition Of the words “Be Free”, these suckas tellin’ us to fuckin lock and Load all them thangs, even though I fought with the works I’m cursed with all the blame, homie all the blame I be gettin Make me wanna go just shit on you lames, ain’t toilet trained You maggots all the same, ‘till i cock and pop that thang Straight aimin’, ain’t hittin' you off of mistaken AK lookin' boy, home boy done came around the same town ??? Put a stamp on it, when a dope fiend die from it Everybody say he got the best of the boy Shoot like an AK, that boy don’t play, remix ery'day lookin boy Don’t get it fucked up, facts with the facts Witcha' favorite flow from the cradle to the grave, lookin' boy You playin', lookin boy? Pray lookin' boy I’m from Brooklyn, around the way, lookin' boy I'mma merc you. Turn around and laugh, never ask Nobody to grip stay in your place, lookin' boy Facin' me boy? Ya' rap style is replaceable I always win the race, lookin' boy [Hook 3] I'm beginning to feel like a black God (Black God) God cipher divine is what it stands for (Stands For) Now who think their bars are equal to match ours? (Match Ours) The way I'm rotting on this track call me jaguar (Jaguar) [Verse 3] See, you don’t smoke what I be smokin', No homie, it’s highly potent Leave ya' whole body broken, your casket is finally closin' And I do not be chokin' When i toss the lead straight out the picture with these Rhymes I wrote'em. You gone' need Ibuprofen I was designed to school you, these rappers be tryna' fool you I’m controllin dis, pinch ya'self in the head and cry with boohoos It’s P I’d rather die than salute you, my knowledge is crucial If i don’t capitalize how it’s unsuitable For all these blood-suckin' guys So I wanna make sure somewhere in the written rap my lyrics will school you and Bust rhymes to, beat these beats like Nick Cannon in “Drumline" Everybody talking 'bout NY, when they dissed our city, he was toungue-tied Rappers are phony mad at me cause I run mine I don’t care where you from, I’m from the ??? Still king of the Underground, but I still rap Like I’m on my Pimp C and Bun grind from Sunrise To sunrise, fuck Sometimes Me, Old tees(?) and a couple of other guys Was the only ones who spoke from the mayan Ancient, you hit that tough guy in the head Oh i’m back in the ratchet empty Run or Die, shot him like the movie "Life" When they ran across that gun line Put it all in the rhyme, they don’t understand the lesson I’m >??? Pap from around the way he say she say I don’t got the same buzz, but I'm More than sick with the oral, York’s, this is formal Fuckin with that boy, but his album bore you And i don’t know what the fuck, you run for The shots just gonna touch you in your fucking Torso >??? And I just bought a new AK from a shooter, just to come and shoot ya Like when Papoose made Big Sean mad Pap said "He like a fag” and Kanye ass never shot back cause he had no ammo Man, oh man, Pap taught that boy a lesson And he ate yo man too. So that boy went straight to the radio station the very next week “Hey Pap, it’s comical" Critics I'mma blast you while using knowledge and speed Micro Machine Some of you ain’t doin nothing, you a sucka’ i be shootin' Bucking at ya' crew and now I rule you-you-you-you I’m renovatin' and I made it right so everything I say is articulating ‘till the tinger hits a funeral Regulating rolling never speculating Time to get the motherfucking glory, all the imitators imitating Generating and I know the fakers are forever faking Wanna see an artist take my headoff, they be hella' hating ‘Cause I know the way to get'em all creating Put a nickel plate and use it, you just hesitate to use it "Oh, he ain’t the real king" That’s what they say when they be stuck in that illusion Kick rocks, ya’ album flip flop Yo trash wasn’t selling you a true bitch Crip Glocks, cock back quick shots They be drops that you never could improve in "I don’t know how to make bars like that, that boy just hurts the booth" Lemme know when you got the urge to move Wills put you in a herse when they squirt through the roof Thristy, i’m an immerker, you twerking dudes Prove that if you could fathom right from wrong, you could master life’s purpose to all You dummies, real funny, but look at the path I laid You still from me, pulling my wealth. You still bore me Don’t lie to yourself with them hateful rules Elevate your mind fool ‘cause I Still study, I’m gully. Ill when I spit my tongue I just spit in your face and say "fuck you" Punk, you hating and i’m so fucking real I’m launching a log, you blaming the industry, kill that noise Bush ruined the country. But straight ahead’s something that's Getting ugly for money. Soldiers fight with rebels and Here’s what is becoming Catastrophe obliviates our living space, and it’s a state of elimination Full of hate from the paths to disgrace. Our generation of kids Pathetic. Say it’s liberation, but they plan is to kill a nation But fuck it, you afraid of the gimicks? Blaze at the fake then But if I can’t shatter they image How the fuck am I supposed to face all the racists? Don’t debate, that is hating cause I’m able to straight take The fore train of bowl and green and erase all they wages, they living large And take that cape from the majors, don’t be a facade Wooden king? Think hard, Pap the king. Peace to the Gods