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Cassidy Freeway Battle Lyrics

Cassidy vs. Freeway Battle
[Cassidy]
…coke make the Piper’s mad
And all eyes on me – What yall some type of fags
Mad cuz my shit plush dog I like to flash
Yall rockin’ regular clothes where they slice the tags
And if a nigga come at Cass like he’s sweet
He get the double pipe to eat, I like to beef
Still like Ny’Quil, put you right to sleep
I’ll break your ankles if I like your sneaks
Put your mouth on the curb, make you bite the street
Leave most of yall missin like piper teeth
You flip twice a week, you hustlin’ or what?
Stop getting it mixin it, cutting it all up
Whole quarter ki see, you fuckin it all up
You see him, BM truckin it all up
You cutting the raw up? well I can help ya
You’ll have dimes the size of Alka-Seltzers
When I bring it to you, man you can’t be scurred
Cuz you’re gon’ get served
If I don’t get mine then you gon’ get yours
I’ll burn each one outta these
Your whole head’ll crack like sunflower seeds

(People talking in the back about whether or not bets will take place…)

[Freeway]
Niggas give me handshakes, is they fake or real? Uh
Person’s grill’ll hurt your stomach,
Because a nigga face shows how he feels
Especially if he’s drunk or blunted
I don’t chill, don’t squeal, hold gats, several macks, couple pumps
Two nines, if you feed lines, thank you – run it
I tear ya, out your paper like coupon’s he think he run it
I run through thugs – Jackie Journer
I shoot through thugs – pack the burner
I’m from the hood where they pack the corners
And the DT’s hit the block
They leave then we right back on the corner,
We breed niggas that’ll run in your shop
I love niggas that’ll run in your house
Yall fake niggas just be runnin your mouth, yeah
Till we run in your spot
Where the shit right there, damn is he thuggin or not?
All this cheese and he ain’t put up a fight
B. Sieg kid put up his life, and for him F-R-E doing the same
I slide through in the range, F-R-E screwing your dame
Got to your bricks thanks to your bitch and that’s life, uh
Strike the Sheppard and the sheep’ll scatter
I bust shots in your boss crib, heat up his house
Fragments from .22 shells sit in your bladder
You lose fat cells, shit in a pouch
You bullshittin’ with bars, I spit raw same shit from my flock
Niggas pressed for a deal, same shit when they locked
Rappin to the DT, I guess you figure you locked
And your man out whippin’ and your bitch out fuckin’
And your cell too skinny and the food ain’t nothin’
And ain’t nobody lookin’ so you just said fuck it
No parameters, yall niggas amateurs
Before rap shit, threw clips low from cameras
Awkward rap style, hard to handle us
Move them crack files filled to Los Angeles
Moved with hood niggas, hard to point us out
Triple wood, no figures, hard to wipe us out

[Cassidy]
Yall playboys doing a lot’a hatin’
But they see me in the street and be quick to speak like salamun 'alaykum
Good brother, I’m in the hood brother
And the hood love us for wrappin’ good butter
And I don’t wanna get on your tracks, I’m good brother
You come from a hood of suckers I could see the past
To see the cash I throw ounces in freezer bags
To keep my pockets fat like Trina ass
And believe when Cass slay these whores
They get the type of dick they should pay me for
But I don’t go in these ladies raw
Cuz then they pop up pregnant claiming that the baby yours
And I don’t get blood took to see
I just wait till its born and I’m gone if it don’t look like me
And it look like B, ahead of the rest
Cuz every verse you get pissed on like pregnancy tests
If the pipe your habit
Then holler, I’ll price and bag it
Get powdered every hour like diaper rashes
I need psychiatrics to strap me down
I got a track record ask around
I’ll snatch a clown, pat him down, take his cheese, then leave
And come BACK AROUND, and do it twice
You see me and my back is down, I’m shootin’ dice
And I might cut the cards if the loot is right
But dog I aint’ the losing type
You pick the game and I’ll bet
Especially on the Sixers game
When I get some change I’ma start rebuilding
Buy stock, and cop some apartment buildings
Niggas better start chillin ‘fore shit get crucial
My guns like my dick – bigger than usual
And screw you cats that’s in the rap business
Keep my name out your mouth before you get smacked in it

[Freeway]
Put a beat on…

[Voice of Battle Regulator]
Straight raw man...

[Freeway]
You can't put a beat on?

[Voice of Battle Regulator]
It's straight raw.

[Freeway]
Put a beat on, I wanna spit over a track…

[Voice of Battle Regulator]
Straight raw, everything’s straight raw…