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cassidy - 11 minute freestyle on hot 97 lyrics

[beat 1: public service announcement]
they said i ain’t a threat, but now i record and send the check
n i stash half the cash n’ spend the rest
n i would a been broke like y’all if i didn’t invest
we both got ice n’ cars but i ain’t in debt
a lot of vets need a give rhyming a rest
y’all sound like has-beens, n’ i ain’t impressed
i’m dying to bet, you fellers know “i ain’t the best”
prove i’m lying if i ain’t correct
they call me doc, i’ll give your dog shots but, i ain’t the vet
n i got dough so, i ain’t upset, ayo
i do the drop on, michael j’s and the top gone
at least i got the b-tter like microwave popcorn
stop drawing it’s gon’ be hard to move me
swizz tha monster, he could star in a horror movie
i usually, i cl!ck fast, and bang ya b-tch -ss
n ain’t nothing change, i got cane for the quick cash
but change i whip p-ss, aim n’ blid-ast!
the kid c-ss got the game on smid-ash!
slang the stid-ash, i’m tryna’ stack money high
gimme money ’till i die, gimme’ 25
man i might not be alive when i’m 25
thats why i carry 2 nines, n’ a 25
and sell 20’s, that’ll get you dummy high
bagged in a one-25, on 25’s
them 20’s on the five, my coochie rate sky rocketed
look ock i’m a pimp, that’s why i popped ya chick
sis’ got the it, know she tryna’ cop me it
now she start giving up dough to go shoppin’ with
popping ish might get you to deserve it
but it happened, be happy she ain’t get you murdered
i’m a straight cannon, n’ i’m getting the cake can
n’ i be out the state tanning, eating on baked salmon
i’m straight scrambling, tryna’ sell a gram of ye
but ya strip only get a grand a day
n’ there ten of y’all on it, pretending y’all doing it
you don’t get stacks boy, you a pack boy
be on the corner for a hundred hours
selling other n-ggas c0ke n’ only gone get a hundred dollars
you could probably get some money if you come an holla’
cause i got haze, n’ i cop k’s
so my block made heavy money
my weed fluffy, n’ got red hair like peggy bundy
i got 20’s come cop from the house
cause the green you got garbage like oscar the grouch
i got more change then you got in my couch
next cat that scream my name gon’ get shot in the mouth

i got the yay on the stroll in my whole notebook of raps
every bar raw when i write it’s like cooking crack
i gotta mean street team that be pushing packs
i’m getting gravy like the 80’s, i took it back
i’m watching n-ggas on the block get shook and rat
seen n-ggas serve the wrong fiend, get booked for that
i watch n-ggas try to floss n’ get took for that
so between the draw of jeans where i put the gat

[beat 2: problem child]
meek keep the piece, n’ you know mook ‘ll clap
last cat that slept on c-ss, he took a nap
you cats will go night night for the right price
so i suggest you know respect if you like life
cause the white high how i made loochie
them big rocks got ’em like chris rock when he played pookie
the strip poppin’, i ride for cash
n’ you softer then a toddler -ss

you could ask any cat that was on the strip with me
if i flipped the key, n’ i had christmas tree
man, c-ss sold more bags then lipton tea
n’ i had chicks trick for me, cause i’m a pimp
my watch, i gotta squint at my wrist to see
what time it is, n’ my hip where the llama is
i’ll look at y’all cats cheques like, where the commas is
fishtanks in the headrest so the piranhas is
swimming past when c-ss comes spinnin past
you know i’m going slow, but my rims is spinning fast
i’m in a cl-ss by my self, you n-ggas -ss
you did it in the past, but now you n-ggas trash
n’ my flow pathetic, yea i’m so poetic
even though i don’t get my credit, but its copasetic
everything i spit is so sick like my throat infected
i’m the illest n-gga out, n’ i ain’t sold a record
but you know i’m gunna blow cause i’m so connected
swizz going to produce, jay gon’ promote the record
who hard as me what, i did a song with r but
i ain’t on no rnb stuff
i ain’t no pretender, y’all remember the free stuff
n’ that’ll happen to a n-gga actin’ like he tough
i spit toxic waste so talk sl!ck n’
get ya faced sliced up a like chocolate cake

[beat 3: tipsy]
rest in peace to b.i.g, p.a.c., aaliyah, left e.y.e
new york, game you don’t stop, big pun, n’ you won’t stop
i said, rest in peace to b.i.g, p.a.c., aaliyah, left e.y.e
freaky tah, you already know big l, the whole cl!ck yo
my name c-ssidy, i’m on the heezy man
i get so sl!ck and greezy man
all my strips pop like a greasy pan
cut your dough short like, “easy man.”
believe me, you need to come see me man
my c0ke make smokers have a seizure man
a chick’ll see my hand, and leave her man
you need a keys to a beamer, like i’m beenie man
you see me man, i’m a handsome boy
i make a brawl on my car lot dance it more
i be glances at y’all with ya goofy’s on
box, pink pather’s, snoopy’s on
i just put up all my jury on
all my diamonds, n’ my ruby’s on, shinin’ off the light
it look like i got a coogi on
the roof of the coupe is gone, and snoop is on
you dudes is simply dumbies
y’all on the block with empty tummies, n’ trying to get this money
i just got a watch, n-ggas tryna get this from me
oh the coupe dropped it, sh-t a n-gga clumsy
chickens want me, n’ ain’t tryna hear no
yea i’m trying to pop, but i’m not trying to head though
come over here yo, come on don’t be scared yo
i’ll i’m trying to do is get brain like the scarecrow
on wizard of oz, look i don’t be lying
a lot of y’all need courage like the cowardly lion
all this powder i’m buying, i can make a brick road
and my nickels the size of swizz’s nose
but that’s gettin’ old, we gone bring it up to date
n’ n-ggas know that i spit sh-t for yo

i’m a grown -ss man, i don’t play with kids
i spray the led, and rip you apart like a mr. potato head
i bought the bentley gt, n it’s tomato red
cause i sling b-tter of the color, of potato bread
i grind for mine, dime for dime
cats hatin’, but they know my rhymes line for line
they tryna’ perpetuate, how you gone hate n’ you a fan
man, my strip poppin’ like bacon in a pan
my little mans ‘ll take them grams and walk to brooklyn
for the cake, but they ain’t making a band
i put 10 on my wrist, put 8 on my hand
about 80 on my neck, cause i be scr-ping the pan
i take a trip, i’m back with a tan, i’m with a diva
sippin’ margaritas with my back in the sand
or i’m on a yacht gettin’ my c-ck l!cked from a chinese freak
tryna’ eat beef yachiniku with chop sticks
i just got the hard top, n’ i ain’t got car shop
i just hit swizz on the phone, he on the car lot
i’m a star, i got love for the game
but i’m still a thug mang, but a slug in yo’ brain
n’ put blood stains on your timbs, so when the clip low
get low like the ying yang twins
or your scar be all on the windows n’ the wall
i’m in it ’till the end y’all, win, lose, or draw

[beat 4: dirt of your shoulder]
my name c-ssidy, i know you remember me man
i hold twin revolvers like i’m yosemite sam
i ride with the 4-5, but i don’t drive an infinity man
i’m the guy you pretend to be man
that’s why when you take a shot, it’s not going to be hennessy man
that p-wn knocks on my evils man, d-mn
i can’t let it slide around n’ ride petrified
lettin’ them decide when they gon’ try come test the odds
f that man, i make the gat exercise
n’ you could be next to die, you better recognize
or you get done for, trump if you want war
it’s nothing, cause you ain’t even uckin’ with my young boys
alright you got dumb rhymes, i got dumb moths
i’m sick with it, man i spit until my tongue sore
n’ you n-ggas done crimes, but i done more
my bedroom closet remind you of a gun store
see i’m the one you run from, not come for
you could get the whole clip, plus one more
you ain’t never slung raw with your fake -ss
i was burnin’ my bags determined to make cash
n’ if the table start turnin’, i’m a take cash
you betta’ try to find a teflon face mask
my mom said, “calm down, you ain’t safe c-ss
n’ i ain’t tryna see you at your way up to upstate c-ss.”
so i fell back, tried not to sell crack
try not to sell ki’s, i ain’t even sell trees
yea i chilled but, i was still gettin’ bread
cause i did credit card scams with this chicken head
i’m a be a hustler ’till i’m sick or dead
but for my mom’s sake, i had to let the grind wait
i was young at the time, i had to get my mind straight
i liked to rhyme n’ got nice like in nine eight
i started gettin’ props, then got ish on lock
this was right at the big died, n’ i was missin’ pac
listen not, i was really on cash
i was only 15 n’ had philly on smash
for real, i still got philly on smash
i mean there’s some hot knuckles, but i’m still the top knuckle
n’ i’m stick a block knuckle, so i’m money hungry
n’ i pop knuckles that try to take money from me
see my money funny, n’ i ain’t joke a lot
cop 20 after 20 cause i smoke a lot
i got an herb problem
n’ i ain’t even drop a single yet n’ i’m starting on my 3rd album
n’ i bet you want my d-ck fam
cause i met your ceo and he say, “yo i’m a big fan”
i’m a big man, cramped in a skinny body
n’ with the mini shotty, i jam anybody
cause i don’t feel none of y’all
n’ with the raps or the gats, i’ll k!ll one of y’all
awwh, ya’ll ready know i got my hand on my hammer
mind on my cake, cause i grind for the cake
i do crimes for the cake
i could do the time but i ain’t tryna’ get a case man
i got the gun with me, but you don’t get a one fifty
i keep the nine on my waste
take a knife out and put a nike sign on your face
i put in time for the cake, that’s why i’m grateful for every dime that i make
i got signed now dimes climbing escape
cause my pockets puffy and it remind them of mase, wait
i’m a bad boy, get trash bags full of cash boy
i’m in a vanquish, not a jag boy
why you mad boy, cause you catch cabs boy
n’ you gettin’ paid less paper then my bag boy
you a hater that’s sad boy
cause yo’ mom even liked me, i might be yo’ dad boy
you a messed up, i know you upset up
but you better watch how you talking to your step pop
watch, i’m a be gon’ in your fridge
n’ walk around with my boxers on in yo’ crib, kid

- cassidy lyrics

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