G’s Up (50 Cent Diss)
[Verse 1: Sheek Louch]
Jump out the Rover, nigga
Hoodie on, back to carrying them things
Summer’s over nigga
I clapped my shit
Just copped a GT, album about to drop
I’m about to wrap my shit
They gon' see me way upstate
Sheek Louch: After Taxes
G-Unot on the plate
The crack is beige, the wine is aged
The yak is strong, the barrel is long
Sheek show these little niggas ass like thongs
I ain’t spit that shit to get this whip
Your advance, I made that with just this trip
Next trip I’m saving my dough
I already know the hip-hop police sit and study my flow
So I throw them off, play the golf course
Disappear like ants
Yellow four wit the Polo plaid pants
And ever since New Orleans
I’ve been coming through Queens
Copping weed and crazy blunts
Word is, Curtis Ratson, they ain’t seen you once
Diamond up, back with Bad Boy reminiscing
Me and Big both Bacardi Lime it up
They say I’m too sick for the new school
I can’t attend classes, so I just build up the masses
Red Monkey Jeans, Belushi glasses
Me just sitting there, cause some crashes
Sheek a rare breed
They don’t understand what I’m doing there
With some sunflower seeds
10-10'ing, army coat no linen
Doo rag, but not from my head, the beat’s spinning
They say I'm what the street’s been missing
Dropped "Walk Wit Me", but that was just for the streets to listen
November 8th, I’m coming back like the wrath?
Bitch niggas ya’ll ain’t safe
LETS GO!
[Verse Two: Jadakiss]
You could see the pictures I paint son
If I ain’t the King of New York then there ain’t one
Tell me who fucking want it
And you can put something on it
I’m in the O-6 supercharged with nothing on it
Mad hot, to have is to have not
My crack spot is Protools on my laptop
Much cheaper then The Carter, it’s affordable
And I ain’t never gotta infiltrate it, cause it’s portable
The trey 5-7 is chrome
If any big niggas is with me they just came home
Either way, I’m a pop that nine
Call him 40 Cent now, cause he dropped that dime
And he got me kinda jammed up right now, I can’t lie
But I don’t know who told his black ass he can’t die
The other day I made 40 in a hour
Fuck, in the studio, I’m Berry Gordy with the powder
No retreat , No surrender
I’m at the juice bar, Armageddon’s in the blender
Getting ready for the winter
Sweatsuit weather, some reason I shoot better
Carry the big gats And leave the scene real fucking nasty
Like chocolate milk after a Big Mac
I’m on my CEO shit right now
Until this underhanded politic shit pipe down
Shout out to the media and masses
November 8th, Sheek Louch: After Taxes
One