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Posted By	Discussion Topic: Takeover!!!
GonzoStyle	posted on 01-30-2002 @ 3:15 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	Jay-Z Takeover R.O.C., we runnin this rap shit Memphis Bleek, we runnin this rap shit B. Mac, we runnin this rap shit Freeway, we run this rap shit O & Sparks, we runnin this rap shit Chris & Neef, we runnin this rap shit The takeover, the break's over nigga God MC, me, Jay-Hova Hey lil' soldier you ain't ready for war R.O.C. too strong for y'all It's like bringin a knife to a gunfight, pen to a test Your chest in the line of fire witcha thin-ass vest You bringin them Boyz II Men, HOW them boys gon' win? This is grown man B.I., get you rolled into triage Beatch - your reach ain't long enough, dunny Your peeps ain't strong enough, fucka Roc-A-Fella is the army, better yet the navy Niggaz'll kidnap your babies, spit at your lady We bring - knife to fistfight, kill your drama Uh, we kill you motherfuckin ants with a sledgehammer Don't let me do it to you dunny cause I overdo it So you won't confuse it with just rap music R.O.C., we runnin this rap shit M-Easy, we runnin this rap shit The Broad Street Bully, we runnin this rap shit Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it Freeway, we runnin this rap shit O & Sparks, we runnin this rap shit Chris & Neef, we runnin this rap shit {*"Watch out!! We run New York" -> KRS-One*} I don't care if you Mobb Deep, I hold triggers to crews You little FUCK, I've got money stacks bigger than you When I was pushin weight, back in eighty-eight you was a ballerina I got your pictures I seen ya Then you dropped "Shook Ones," switch your demeanor Well - we don't believe you, you need more people Roc-A-Fella, students of the game, we passed the classes Nobody can read you dudes like we do Don't let 'em gas you like Jigga is ass and won't clap you Trust me on this one - I'll detach you Mind from spirit, body from soul They'll have to hold a mass, put your body in a hole No, you're not on my level get your brakes tweaked I sold what ya whole album sold in my first week You guys don't want it with Hov' Ask Nas, he don't want it with Hov', nooooo! R.O.C., we runnin this rap shit B. Sigel, we runnin this rap shit M-Easy, we runnin this rap shit Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it O & Sparks, we runnin this rap shit Freeway, we run this rap shit Chris & Neef, we runnin this rap shit {*"Watch out!! We run New York" -> KRS-One*} I know you missin all the - FAAAAAAAME! But along with celebrity comes bout seventy shots to your frame Nigga; you a - LAAAAAAAME! Youse the fag model for Karl Kani/Esco ads Went from, Nasty Nas to Esco's trash Had a spark when you started but now you're just garbage Fell from top ten to not mentioned at all to your bodyguard's "Oochie Wally" verse better than yours Matter fact you had the worst flow on the whole fuckin song but I know - the sun don't shine, then son don't shine That's why your - LAAAAAAAME! - career come to a end There's only so long fake thugs can pretend Nigga; you ain't live it you witnessed it from your folks pad You scribbled in your notepad and created your life I showed you your first tec on tour with Large Professor (Me, that's who!) Then I heard your album bout your tec on the dresser So yeah I sampled your voice, you was usin it wrong You made it a hot line, I made it a hot song And you ain't get a coin nigga you was gettin fucked and I know who I paid God, Serchlite Publishing Use your - BRAAAAAAAIN! You said you been in this ten I've been in it five - smarten up Nas Four albums in ten years nigga? I can divide That's one every let's say two, two of them shits was due One was - NAHHH, the other was "Illmatic" That's a one hot album every ten year average And that's so - LAAAAAAAME! Nigga switch up your flow Your shit is garbage, but you try and kick knowledge? (Get the fuck outta here) You niggaz gon' learn to respect the king Don't be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen Because you know who (who) did you know what (what) with you know who (yeah) but just keep that between me and you for now R.O.C., we runnin this rap shit M-Easy, we runnin this rap shit The Broad Street Bully, we runnin this rap shit Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that's it Freeway, we run this rap shit O & Sparks, we runnin this rap shit Chris & Neef, we runnin this rap shit {*"Watch out!! We run New York" -> KRS-One*} A wise man told me don't argue with fools Cause people from a distance can't tell who is who So stop with that childish shit, nigga I'm grown Please leave it alone - don't throw rocks at the throne Do not bark up that tree, that tree will fall on you I don't know why your advisors ain't forewarn you Please, not Jay, he's, not for play I don't slack a minute, all that thug rappin and gimmicks I will end it, all that yappin be finished You are not deep, you made your bed now sleep Don't make me expose you to them folks that don't know you Nigga I know you well, all the stolen jew-els Twinkletoes you breakin my heart You can't fuck with me - go play somewhere, I'm busy And all you other cats throwin shots at Jigga You only get half a bar - fuck y'all niggaz I'm Deep Inside Your Children. They Will Betray You In MY Name.
itsamiata	posted on 01-30-2002 @ 3:55 PM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 01	Nas - Ether [gunshots] [Nas talking] ("Fuck Jay-Z") What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talkin 'bout me dog You, what? ("Fuck Jay-Z") You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga ("Fuck Jay-Z") [Chorus:] (I) Fuck with your soul like ether (Will) Teach you the king you know you (Not) "God's son" across the belly (Lose) I prove you lost already Brace yourself for the main event Y'all impatiently waitin It's like an AIDS test, what's the results? Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy I embrace y'all with napalm Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone How could Nas be garbage? Semi-autos at your cartilege Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne I got this, locked since '9-1 I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas With Hawaiin Sophie fame, kept my name in his music Check it [Chorus] [talking] Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fuckin ring [Chorus] I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh) Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face Y'all some "well wishers," friendly actin, envy hidin snakes With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take? When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid When KRS already made an album called Blueprint First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big Dick suckin lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live [talking] (I...will...not...lose) "God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already The king is back, where my crown at? (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas [Chorus] Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother You traded your soul for riches My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it You seem to be only concerned with dissin women Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly? Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly In '88 you was gettin chased through your buildin Callin my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers All I did was gave you a style for you to run with Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god Wearin Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin with little Chase You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic? Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy? Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after? Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas? Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss What you think, you gettin girls now 'cause of your looks? Ne-gro please You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat Compared to Beans you wack And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hangin with Caine, to Herb, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick So little shorty's gettin gunned up and clapped quick How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips? Wanted to be on every last one of my classics You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss
GonzoStyle	posted on 01-30-2002 @ 5:07 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	Jay-Z (Super Ugly) Verse1: I got myself a gun Brooklyn, stand up I got myself a gun but really, I dont need tha heat ya heart pump project kool-aid(ya sweet) I aint gotta two-way you gays this is not beef/this is rap hommie/i dont have a scratch on me you feel Jay soft/rip jay off/damn im only worth over a hundred million look/i got beef with like a hundred children niggaz with pink suits/tryin to get cute you a little outta line hommie/dont let the 9 hommie/ put ya out ya mind hommie/bitch keep tryin hommie kick yo little lies/ i kick my real facts like u sneakin out tha back/ at tha Source Soundlab(uh) we wasnt chasin you/we had a tape and too/we came through to do our little one, two thang It wasnt a rockafella come through thing/if it was on like that/why would i come through Queens Yo, ya'll Queens nigga know how I do/ i got mo' shooters in Queens Bridge than u Niggaz'll(niggaz will) tie you up on the Colloseum roof/and open beer bottles off ya boy's chipped tooth Look Here, Chorus: I got myself a gun,Uh Ohhhh! Yea, I got myself a gun Verse 2: Listen/Im tha J,tha A, tha ? This nigga never sold asprin/ how u escobar? had to buy you're chain back tha last time u hot robbed/the nerve of this coward nigga....(Oh My God) and all rap rumors are induendo/I bring them to you live/lift up ya window Let tha public begin to see your dirty laundry/ya'll dont want me to continue(Oh!)Super Ugly (Jay-Z Laughing) (Nas Voice:) I dont give a fuck All I really know is that yo hoe wants to be with me she aint playin/believe what im sayin Verse 3: Me and tha boy A.I.* got more in Common* than just ballin and rhymin Get It?/More in COMMON I came in ya Bentley backseat/skeeted in Jeep/left condoms in tha baby seat Here nigga/tha gloves is off/the love is done/its whateva, wheneva, howeva/nigga "1" And since you infatuated with sayin tha gay shit/yes u was kissin my dick when u was kissin that bitch/crazy bitch you thought i was boning her back/called a hundred times ,while i was boning her neck You got a baby by that broad/you cant disown her yet when does ya lies end?/when does the truth begin? when does reality set it?/or does it not matter gotta hurt that im ya baby mama's favorite rapper and ask your current girl/she know whats up/ holla at a real nigga (Nas Voice:) I dont give a fuck All I really know is that yo hoe wants to be with me she aint playin/believe what im sayin I'm Deep Inside Your Children. They Will Betray You In MY Name.
itsamiata	posted on 01-30-2002 @ 5:11 PM
Psychopath Registered: Jan. 01	Nas-Stillmatic Nas having conversation with himself] Ayo Nasty Nas, what up? ~Ain't nothing, a lot of cowards frontin'. I hear what you're saying, but yo, this is all love for me, you know? ~No doubt, smoke them cowards, you STILLMATIC Ma, I'm sorry who the fuck I AM, I can't trust my fans Out of luck, no constructive plans My friends stay powdered up, I'm so drunk, can't stand You said if I would sober up, I'd be a powerful man Turned out the street life, you prayed I wouldn't But every church in the world can't save our children I stayed out late, you heard shots, thought it would be Your older son on the ground dead, but fortunately The bullets had some other names on it, the brother was blind I hit the el, than we yell out, "It wasn't my time!" I loaded up shells, one by one, you smelled blunts from my room door Little Nasir was at war And little did I care what you saw Crew deep with a few heat, now it's time we settle the score But in the projects, I visit Muhammad, in linen garments Preaching Man, Woman, and Child, the living Prophet And I'm similar, Nasir Bin Aluda Ra Visqu Allah, fist full of dollars in the dice game God The Ice King, God, the Black Christ, elegant stance Clothes fit me like a crime boss, the menacing man I see the world collapsing, young pregnancies Young girls are fast and in their Sasoon jeans, no prophylactic All this fast shit and fly jewelry, now makes my eyes teary N Y City, grab a hold and ride with me Rip the FREEWAY, shoot through MEMPHIS with money bags Stop in Philly, order cheese steaks and eat BEANS fast And bring it back up top, remove the fake king of New York You show off, I count off when you sample my voice I rule you, before, you used to rap like the FU-SHNICKENS NAS designed your BLUEPRINT, who you kidding? Is he H TO THE IZZO, M TO THE IZZO? For shizzle you phony, the rapping version of SISQO And that's for certain, you clone me, your wack clothes line I'd rather Sean John, bore me with your fake ass rhymes And those times, they never took place, you liar UN was your first court case, you had no priors You master fabricated stories of streets and sound slick Have you surrounded, you and the bitch you down with While they riding NAS, trying to boost their careers Corny as CORMEGA, all you Hip-Hop queers Since ILLMATIC, IT WAS WRITTEN: I AM...NASTRADAMUS That's the answers to the puzzle I gave you, now here's a promise My next few albums, instead of projects, They'll be a difficult test inside the cover for the mind's optics Come in my hood, but bring the guns with you, it's dark Headed through Brooklyn, Queens, Harlem, Staten, and Bronx Headed through Compton, Oaktown, South Central, and Watts New Orleans, Mississippi, Chi-town, every block I'm trying to have my positive ways, I put my rhymes on page Did crimes and headline on stage I Signed a contract, so here it is, you have it Streets disciple, I'm STILLMATIC
OAAWITE	posted on 01-30-2002 @ 5:47 PM
Hanger-On Registered: Jan. 70	Can't everyone just put down the guns and fuck some bitches? Givin' Up the Nappy Dugout Your daughter was a nice girl, now she's a slut. A queen treatin' niggas just like King Tut. Gobbin' up nuts, sorta like a hummingbird, suckin' up the Lench Mob crew, and I'm comin' third. Used to get straight-As, now she's just skippin' class. Oh my, do I love to grip the hips and ass. Only 17, with a lot of practice on black boys' jimmys and white boy's cactus. Sorry, sorry, sorry, but I gotta be brief: a lotta niggas like bustin' nuts in her teeth. Drink it up, drink it up, even though she's Catholic, that don't mean shit, cuz she's givin' up the ass quick. Quicker than you can say "candy", the bitch is on my Snicker...and oh man she can take on three men built like He-Men; her little-bitty twat got gallons of semen. Fourteen niggas in line ready to bang your pride-and-joy, I mean daddy's little angel. Tell the bitch to get her ass out the house, cuz your daughter's known for givin' up the nappy dugout. Chorus, 2x: I got a big old ding-a-ling, and if that bitch remains, I'm gonna do my thing, with your dauuuughter! Mister, mister, before you make me go, I'm here to let you know your little girl is a hoe. Nympho, nympho, boy is she bad; get her all alone and out come the kneepads. I know she's a minor and it is illegal, but the bitch is worse than Vanessa Del Rio. And if you decide to call rape, we got the little hooker on tape, now: tell the fuckin' slut to please hurry up, and wear that dress that's tight on her butt, so I can finger-fuck on the way to the bed, been in so many rooms, she got a dot on her forehead. Face turnin' red from grabbin' them ankles. Fuck and get up is how I do them stank-hoes. You should hear how she sounds with a cock in her, boots get knocked from here to Czechoslovakia. Two on top, one on the bottom; first nigga got the boots, man, you shoulda shot 'im. Cuz after I got 'em it was over. Now niggas get lucky like a four-leaf clover. On daddy's little girl. She keeps nuts in her mouth like the bitch was a squirrel. So tell Sheryl to bring her ass home, cuz the line at my house is gettin' loooooooong, and.... This message was edited by OAAWITE on 1-30-02 @ 5:50 PM

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