[Big K.R.I.T.] They hollering at the K back M.I crooked slay that, been k**ing beats since adapt Yeah me and rhymes go way back, way back Time machine flow when I was swanging and riding If you ain't repping for your people then you're shucking and jiving Tap dancing and sliding to beat that you can't comprehend How dare you speak on where I'm from if you ain't never been Fried Kool-Aid who made, never ate that in fact Grandma was chefing for real, made meals off love and scraps Thank God for my country folk and family Instead of a metaphor I'd rather take it by James Anderson Damaging how they televised Basketball Wives And not tornadoes in the South and how we lost lives Still rebuilding, pray for the children that have no hero Only the villains that tell them get money Sleep when you die, I find it funny Because when you rest in peace don't mean fast asleep in slumber Thank God and stay humble [Tech N9ne] Real rock, rap and not to Xerox, weird not Enough to make you fear a lot from here watch I ran scrimmage and I fought to the damn finish And I popped eyes open without eating me canned spinach My fans in it constantly tellin' me I can win it If I stand grimace damagin' man every damn minute I blend then expands quick it slams wicked rhyme Grand spittage, H.A.M. with it, fam dig it's N9ne Chea, hard to see me like the background Your rap styles comin' softer than a cat's meow Red laces big-booted like I'm Iraq bound That frown will get you ate by my cannibal from Sac Town So relax pal, pat down, gat down, bat down, blackout With a fat smile I might react foul, so don't make this cat growl I caught everybody when I spazzed wow, who do I catch now [Machine Gun Kelly] Cleveland what up Yeah Kells uh Cobain's back I Smell Like Teen Spirit man, Cobain's back And I got these teens screaming like Cobain's back You try me and I'll make you a legend like Cobain's strap - blaat They say I'm wasting my time Where the watch at how he got that They say it wasn't my time where the watch at now watch that Speed of my syllables rhymes Better clock that Stop that Bad Boy gave me the contract and I dot that Now who the heck is this, with his pants red as 666 All up in your girlfriend's TwitPics That Eastside boy up out the 216 That's making these other rappers get Melo like the Knicks, eh Get you spitters huck-to finished And when ya'll win the game and the cypher was a scrimmage So everybody gossiping tell a friend and a pigeon How this white boy just bodied Black Entertainment Television,Lace up [Kendrick Lamar] Pushing a hoopty bumping the Fugees My life is a scary movie, your life is a male groupie Kendrick Lamar broke the handle with 22 Uzi's Stuffed it in my mouth and cack, cack, cack k**ed the rappers that knew me Compton's most wanted, I live my life in a dungeon Came out a dragon I can probably touch the sun with My bare hands, what are your plans to win a Grammy Sweet taste of victory, like Oprah's punany Don't judge me that's just some irony, trust me I like to laugh and get lucky My sense of humor is rumored to be a Gemini's company come with me In the planet rock and I plan to rock in a plantation chasing many legends that made it Face it you will never be Pac-10 even when the planet stop I'm 2012 on a 12-inch, aiming straight at your pelvis Elvis would come back as a black if you was hot You're just a mascot on a Kim Kardashian a**-shot [B.O.B] Full-blooded pedigree, prize fighter special breed My flow slow, they say it got special needs I'm talking Ritalin, maybe even Adderall Four bars from me would probably k** your whole catalog Sixteen would make Deborah Lee cut the channel off Thirty-two would make Paul Bunyan take the flannel off Sixty-four would make your mama want sixty more I eat haters, check the crumbs on my kitchen floor They say my music's pop I call it buyin' cribs for my mama, shakin' hands with Obama And if you don't believe me go online and check the pic And if you check my flip cam you'll see your sister in a flick I'm perfect from the field it's like I can't miss I'm on a rant like Durant no pick no a**ist Ya'll tripping on TIP, get off my man neck I'm just saying Martha Stewart left prison in a jet