Lyric Poison Freestyle
featuring Brother Marquis Tony Rock
Verse 1: JT Money
Roll out the red carpet let the bugles blow
The pimp deserves a grand intro y don t know?
I know you re sick of bubble gum w/rappers puttin you to bed
But not JT Money I m somethin like a SudaFed
I give relief that s far from lousy
And get the job done without gettin you drowsy
Since I m from the bottom the other rappers tried dissin
But in the end, my ass they ll be kissin
I must state how stupid remarks
Can cause enough friction to give off sparks
Makin people think that a giant king
Couldn t come from the bottom cause of second string
But I ma make history as I get hype
Drop a science that ll damage that stereotype
Ask for drama, cause I ma, bout to set off
A Poisonous freestyle, instead of
The average, ordinary everyday thing
I m outstandin , leavin rappers out standin in the rain
Poison like venom, gettin in em, then I conquer
When I m finished rockin you re jockin for an encore
My masterpieces will smash to pieces
Or should I say demo, the mass that reaches
You better take a bufferin with sufferin from
The wrath of the style that can t be outdone
It s like that y all, cause I m the ultimate
Yo, Tony Rock, take the stand cause I m about to sit!
Verse 2: Tony Rock
MC s up north, and niggas like Spike take shorts
Thinkin that the only rappers live in New York
Dick-heads like you, they don t know the deal
Sayin if it s not from up there, it can t be real
But since you re ignorant and stupid at best,
I ll have to break this down from the simplest
See Tony Rock make a microphone check
Now see him on stage breakin a sucka nigga s neck
Y all takin rap back? Get off of that cake!
The only thing you might be able to take is this dick
Sayin weak-ass rhymes on records and video
Grabbin on the dick and start cursin , and even though
You front to be hard while the cameras start shootin
Knowin goody-damn well that you as soft as a fig newton
If we was cars, I d be a Porsche and you, a Nova
On card games, you re Pitty-pat and I m Poker
I grab the microphone cause I can t wait to smoke a,
Sucka like you, you no-rhymin joker
Steppin on stage, and goin into fits
Workin up a sweat, but you ain t rockin shit
Sayin weak-ass rhymes, tryin your best to work the fans up
Why don t you drop the microphone and come out with your hands up?
Just because you re from up there, you ain t got it like that
Boy, you could be killed, and you don t want that
I m sayin rhymes on a funky-ass cut
Marquis, go for yours, because I got MY nut!
Verse 3: Brother Marquis
I treat rappers like hoes, roll em like vogues
Count em and fold em and stuff and stack em like bank-rolls
I m never on the runnin , MC s confronted
Always in my face, wantin to start somethin
I can t keep silent cause I m lyrically violent
Step to me, boy, step off, don t even try it
I giddy up and go, so smooth when I flow
I make suckas get goin like a 5.0
Ya see, I ll massacre, sit back and laught at ya,
And when you re finished, then I ll embarrass ya
I m the aggressor, the professor
(I injure/I ll end ya) like a ninja with a lyrical lecture
Marquis gets silky as I recite em
Rappers are germs, I m peroxide to fight em
I blitz, throwin hits that ll put you in a coffin
Treat you like an orphan, causing you to soften
People say I m immaculent, but I m past that
Others get laughed at, cause they ain t half that
They try to achieve, but can t succeed
They only get stomped on when I stampede
It s like that, punks, and you all know
Debonaire, the Devil s Dad, continue to flow!
Verse 4: Debonaire
Debonaire, the Devil s Dad, is last on the agenda
Talkin bout how brothers constantly pretend to
Be from up North, New York, yeah, Medina
The grass ain t greener! I guess they never seen a
Rapper from another region gettin the loot
I m from the bottom, and got girls feedin me fruit
And droppin flowers every time I walk
Is my music identical to that of New York?
It s original, comin from the bottom, analyze it
You could come off on your own, but no one tries it
They d rather have some sloppy jalopy
And get called a wanna-be because they try to copy
But see, the boys, we just laugh
Ain t a counterfeit rapper on the Skyywalker staff!
And so the wanna-be s bite the dust
They ain t certified to rap beside none of us!
And cause I m strictly B-U-S-I-N-E-double S
They panickin , stiff like manequins from all the stress
No one there to mend; they look soft
Anyway, I m outta here, signin the fuck off!
Verse 1: JT Money
Roll out the red carpet let the bugles blow
The pimp deserves a grand intro y don t know?
I know you re sick of bubble gum w/rappers puttin you to bed
But not JT Money I m somethin like a SudaFed
I give relief that s far from lousy
And get the job done without gettin you drowsy
Since I m from the bottom the other rappers tried dissin
But in the end, my ass they ll be kissin
I must state how stupid remarks
Can cause enough friction to give off sparks
Makin people think that a giant king
Couldn t come from the bottom cause of second string
But I ma make history as I get hype
Drop a science that ll damage that stereotype
Ask for drama, cause I ma, bout to set off
A Poisonous freestyle, instead of
The average, ordinary everyday thing
I m outstandin , leavin rappers out standin in the rain
Poison like venom, gettin in em, then I conquer
When I m finished rockin you re jockin for an encore
My masterpieces will smash to pieces
Or should I say demo, the mass that reaches
You better take a bufferin with sufferin from
The wrath of the style that can t be outdone
It s like that y all, cause I m the ultimate
Yo, Tony Rock, take the stand cause I m about to sit!
Verse 2: Tony Rock
MC s up north, and niggas like Spike take shorts
Thinkin that the only rappers live in New York
Dick-heads like you, they don t know the deal
Sayin if it s not from up there, it can t be real
But since you re ignorant and stupid at best,
I ll have to break this down from the simplest
See Tony Rock make a microphone check
Now see him on stage breakin a sucka nigga s neck
Y all takin rap back? Get off of that cake!
The only thing you might be able to take is this dick
Sayin weak-ass rhymes on records and video
Grabbin on the dick and start cursin , and even though
You front to be hard while the cameras start shootin
Knowin goody-damn well that you as soft as a fig newton
If we was cars, I d be a Porsche and you, a Nova
On card games, you re Pitty-pat and I m Poker
I grab the microphone cause I can t wait to smoke a,
Sucka like you, you no-rhymin joker
Steppin on stage, and goin into fits
Workin up a sweat, but you ain t rockin shit
Sayin weak-ass rhymes, tryin your best to work the fans up
Why don t you drop the microphone and come out with your hands up?
Just because you re from up there, you ain t got it like that
Boy, you could be killed, and you don t want that
I m sayin rhymes on a funky-ass cut
Marquis, go for yours, because I got MY nut!
Verse 3: Brother Marquis
I treat rappers like hoes, roll em like vogues
Count em and fold em and stuff and stack em like bank-rolls
I m never on the runnin , MC s confronted
Always in my face, wantin to start somethin
I can t keep silent cause I m lyrically violent
Step to me, boy, step off, don t even try it
I giddy up and go, so smooth when I flow
I make suckas get goin like a 5.0
Ya see, I ll massacre, sit back and laught at ya,
And when you re finished, then I ll embarrass ya
I m the aggressor, the professor
(I injure/I ll end ya) like a ninja with a lyrical lecture
Marquis gets silky as I recite em
Rappers are germs, I m peroxide to fight em
I blitz, throwin hits that ll put you in a coffin
Treat you like an orphan, causing you to soften
People say I m immaculent, but I m past that
Others get laughed at, cause they ain t half that
They try to achieve, but can t succeed
They only get stomped on when I stampede
It s like that, punks, and you all know
Debonaire, the Devil s Dad, continue to flow!
Verse 4: Debonaire
Debonaire, the Devil s Dad, is last on the agenda
Talkin bout how brothers constantly pretend to
Be from up North, New York, yeah, Medina
The grass ain t greener! I guess they never seen a
Rapper from another region gettin the loot
I m from the bottom, and got girls feedin me fruit
And droppin flowers every time I walk
Is my music identical to that of New York?
It s original, comin from the bottom, analyze it
You could come off on your own, but no one tries it
They d rather have some sloppy jalopy
And get called a wanna-be because they try to copy
But see, the boys, we just laugh
Ain t a counterfeit rapper on the Skyywalker staff!
And so the wanna-be s bite the dust
They ain t certified to rap beside none of us!
And cause I m strictly B-U-S-I-N-E-double S
They panickin , stiff like manequins from all the stress
No one there to mend; they look soft
Anyway, I m outta here, signin the fuck off!
