Dot Vs. TMR (Original Version)

Intro: D-Dot and The Madd Rapper Alright, Fears Goes Out To My Brooklyn Niggas Dis how we do yo For Da Bitches D-Dot Vs. The Madd Rapper I Love The Bitches Verse 1: d-dot Yo, can I get a whut whut...like jigga Crazy cat Dem fly niggas, puff wit my niggas Went from a low income, to high figgaz Poppa die now, cuz I supply niggas Yo...it ain't my fault...it ain't my fault I got caugt, top of new york, like the war report To the streets: thank you for your support Verse 2: the madd rapper Yo yo yo I'm known to be the maddest, in the mc field No respect in 9-8, in 9-9 its real Got a big record deal, shippin' platinum plus Hip hopperz and chart topperz, that be us No more laughin' at us, no more back of the bus Gettin' hed in the wip, high on crack and the dust Too hard My soldierz, locked down in da ??penz?? Yo dat brooklyn bullshit, we on it again Come on Hook: Scratched Who Da Fuck Are You D-Dot The Madd Rapper I've Been Conversing With The Madd Rapper (2x) Verse 3: d-dot Uh uh, see I'm a rich cat, mansion and da yaught Dancin' in da hot spot, brancin' burnin' hot I gotta 9v12 parked in the lot Drop, shut 'em down, open up shop Verse 4: madd rapper Yo, if a bar were a hundred dollarz, baby gimme some mo If the pussy is all dried up, baby gimme some mo Four o'clock in the mornin', you hear a knock at da door Madd rappers fuckin' your daughter, in the backseat of the 4 Verse 5: d-dot Where my doggz at, matter of a fact where my broadz at A little nigga, but all dat Catch me at da hot spots, I dot, ice rocks Bounce wit a bad bitch, twist her back in tight nots Verse 6: madd rapper So ya'll niggas don't wanna play my records ha Ya'll actin like my shit ain't as hard as john blaze ha Fuckin' put me in yo magazine ha Bitches don't wanna give me my propz ha Well fuck you ha Hook: Verse 7: d-dot Yo, dey wann sip mo(et) on my livin' room floor Jackin' my car keys and rippin' my range ro(ver) Backstage passes, and broads wit big asses Hed wit crystal and champagne glasses Verse 8: madd rapper Uh uh, I know you heard me on your radio True And you know I stole your stereo Ooh Times is hard, can't find a job Got wit 50 cent yo, showed ya'll cats how to rob Verse 9: d-dot Yo, you don't wanna play around, you don't wanna play around For 50 chips, i'll lay it down Pop number ones, and pop from my guns Stacks for my daughters, and nots for my sons Verse 10: madd rapper Ay-yo hi my name is, whut my name is And I walk around wit a stainless Stay wit b-boy, I fly wit birds that are brainless And one hit record, son I'm about to be famous Hook: