Punchline - The Change (Freestyle Cypher) lyrics

Published

0 168 0

Punchline - The Change (Freestyle Cypher) lyrics

[Verse One: 50 Cent] Son I'm realer in the street than I am on wax So if you see me in New York, see me making my stacks And if you see me on the island, you see me taking a jack And I think I'm all that How y'all n***as feel 'bout that? Be careful, this rap sh** will get to ya' head Have you screamin' "f** the police" When you scared of the feds Here's a j**el: love your enemies and hate your friends Your enemies remain the same Your friends always change I travel, state to state Stash box filled with weight Jaguar XK8 Money machine count papes' Kites with five words k** them now don't wait For 21 years I've been sober Sling dope from crack I dabbled with rap Then I f**ing relapse Hydro and hash I'm twistin' it Cash, I'm getting it Cristal, I'm sippin' it Hot sh**, I'm spittin' it [Verse Two: Consequence] Before you press off, better know what team you running with It's tumbling, go hard for a yard And never fumbling And if she gotta donkey Then why roll Republican? Don't gargle my name I'm ain't the toothpaste you brush with Hands on the chips Like a Super Bowl Sunday Come model on a Runway Spit the hard ------- in my lane If you feel, you feel me And charter to the game All of my things, ugh All of my days Keep them, faces changing Back to back Ranges And wife be pushing the cam like a If you making statements n***a you making payments If so, hand me that flow My whole hood show up to the aramen So if you saw something You better Usher Raymond Cause, if I go ten for two, that's it for you You hear more screams out of your crib Then scream two [Verse Three: Punchline] Check it I learned the ma**ive Playas a' gettin' drafted For those that opposed, I gave those a closed casket My thoughts are graphic No matter who you dissing I die for my n***as like Jesus' crucifixion You contradicting You fell under the submission My sh** sound great on bad tapes with the hissin' The plot thickens And in any altercation I take out two like double dating Your whole squad playa hatin' I repeat: play for keeps I got weed smokers turning over a new leaf I pop sh** and roll one deep With no heat to show ya' I drop hot sh** Rock mics with pot holders Rap career's over How dare you oppose this When I die, bury with a tape and my own sh** ---------------------- Diss me and pay the price Make a klepto want to take his own life Style precise The rap game I'm pimpin it, kickin it Yo, take it in vain like insulin! [Verse Four: 50 Cent] People giving me flashbacks When I was young, I was laughed at This is the fact I had to stash crack, in my a** crack Yo some cats get shot, some cats get smacked That's cause some cats get cream and they don't know how to f**in act Phone check, dude get the f** off the jack Got a stash box for the mac in the baby blue ac Tryin' to find out where you rest at so I could, run up in that Blast the gat, run off with the stack I'm on it like that I'm livin' like that I'm eating like that Takes cheese and that's the way it is man And it's like that [Verse Five: Punchline] Check it I keep dough in my pocket While you follow the false prophet Get deep like Islamics, wrapped in a white garment I touch topics that try to open up your optics Vacate in the tropics, you dodgin' bullets in the projects Cut the nonsense, I'm hotter than a lot a men Start honorin', I got more wifeys than Solomon f** the squad you in Ay yo, we be the biddomb Regardless what I spit on You worship the tracks that I sh** on Once you get on, it's fam you can't trust Word to Punch, make rappers march like the third month I, build with friends Lyrically spit gems Call me diamond Cause I'm your girl's best friend MCs is born losers Alcoholic abusers I go on the radio and start a gay rumor Then I'll talk about how the crowd tried to boo ya' Label screwed ya' Stressed out with brain tumors My gat claps 50 percent of wack Take it back to real rap Krylons wit' the fat cap Get robbed for your ASCAP Leave you inside Fortified lives Reppin' NY 'til I die [Verse Six: N.O.R.E] Let me thug it out, like I'm 'spose to Straight vocal, y'all b**hes You know we gotta keep it coastal It's like the Trackmasters How we Tone and Poke you But I got patience for chocha, callate la boca Tell them n***as to call me popa Tell them that I'm loca Get culo, being a boss like Hugo Smoke chronic Stereo, panasonic Striptease, b**hes wanna strip with ease Yo boo, just take it off and hinder your ease N-O-R-E, type that just can't get pleased I got two b**hes s**in' my toes Other two on my meat Yo, and still a n***a won't get weak I like to keep it all s** like Dawson's Creek Thug it right out Right on a LAS beat N-O-R-E, you know I take the streets Any competitors Show you how to break you off N-O-R-E, so f** y'all competitors Either you a live b**h, or a regular who*e Yo, I knew this b**h She used to rhyme and sh** I use to lie to her Tell her I'd buy her sh** Yo, a crib, the new diamonds, plus a whip Yo, came to the crib Put it on And yo, and on the real, woulda put her on But even when I wrote it Yo the b**h couldn't quote it Sounded real foul like she demoted One thing she could do though, is deep throat it So I kept it real, b**h still ain't got a record deal Mention my name, keep it simple and plain She was off, the meter when she seen wood grain Told the b**h maintain, and I'mma do the same Or we can hit the telly up, you can give me some brain [Verse Seven: Consequence] On any given weekend I juggle more girlfriends than Kingpin You experience loneliness for four seasons Chauffeur, and a cell for East Lincoln Call her Peek-a-Boo, cause she going for the Golden Streaken European regions Paparazzi, watch me Next thing I know, I'm on screen getting a co*ky While six chicks getting a hard copy Papi, you want to pop me? Well, I can't tell, cause when it's critical Y'all turn into men on films That costed a lot, like ODB at the Grammy's sh**, if shorty swing my way Better leave your man, --- broken-hearted Gun in the glove department Made a deal with me Food Stamps the new 50's Newer group of chickies Named Jiffy because they spread with the bread Wake up with your chest saying, "dial 911" Because you missing two kidneys

You need to sign in for commenting.
No comments yet.