Dipset Funkmaster Flex Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics

ionicons-v5-k ionicons-v5-j
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0-9
 
TabCrawler.ComD / Dipset / Funkmaster Flex Hot 97 Freestyle log in ] [ register ]
TABCRAWLER Online Sheet Music & Lyrics Archive Member Votes: 0 / 5(0 votes)
TAB VIEWS for funkmaster flex hot 97 freestyle lyrics: 418

To to be able to download PDF tabs, rate, comment & submit guitar tabs, bass tabs, keyboard tab, lyrics and drum tab files you must LOGIN TO TABCRAWLER Online Guitar Tabs & Guitar Pro, Bass Tab, Drum Tabs Archive MEMBERS ONLY AREA.
[PRINT]
Did this lyrics for funkmaster flex hot 97 freestyle help you?
You must LOGIN to rate this lyrics.
Help us improve the tab & lyrics archive!

Funkmaster Flex Hot 97 Freestyle by Dipset Funkmaster Flex Hot 97 Freestyle lyrics [DukeDaGod] It's Dipset all day. The Movement Moves On [Cam'Ron] New York City, you are now tuned in to America's # 1 station, Hot 97 In conjunction with America's # 1 DJ, Funkmaster Flex In collaboration with America's, pardon me, #1 independent rap label Dipset. And right now I'm accompanied by greatness Uhh-huh. My man Hell Rell's in the building, BX borough. Uhh-huh J.R. Writer's here, you know he's the writer of writer's Right now, I don't know where Santana's out, he probably in Brazil Act up homie. They told us not to stay at Def Jam, we eatin' over there You was right, put work on they block. Sell more than they sell I feel you. Ayo Capo act up. Do what you do homie. Go ahead homie I'm waitin in the wings for somebody to act stupid. I'm right here You heard. I used to be Jaffe-Jo, I used to be Killa I think I'ma go with something different this year. I'ma go with... [Hook: J.R. Writer and Cam'Ron] We guerilla breathin', we guerilla breeding It's the Dips, get the drift, This is Killa Season Watch him kill the season, Paid checks heavy It's King Jaffe-Jo get ya tape decks ready We guerilla breathin', Killa Season Feel the Evening, Killin' Season Watch him kill the season paid checks heavy It's Diplomat Records get ya tape decks ready [Cam'Ron] Say what cats did I hang with, slang with, bang bang with Blain gangsta ganked it left lane to the banquet Live from the borough where Rich Porter became Rich Purple Rain in the rain explains it, on that same spit To the day of a reign, I aim and flame leave a lane The clips change, obtain bricks, exchange bricks Bricks exchange, throw the kid some change Look homeboy, I ain't trying to get no names Must of sniffed cocaine, lookin' at my Diplo chain The biscuit turn you to bisquick mixed with shrimp lo mein Old ladies just stop and say it's yo thang Can't deny 'em, look down my wrist go bling Bling bling, listening, come and get some cash First kiss my ring, ohh no, well kiss my ass Back in my zone homes, get ya mind right The 2-3 or 3-2, na it's the twilight It's the highlights of my life Every gun, car, crib, chicken-head that I like Ten on the dope, ten that's beside knife Ten in the hood, ten that's besides night And they tied tight, my family ties tight Ten town 200 bricks, forget 5 mics [Hook: J.R. Writer] You gotta feel the heathen, we guerilla breathin' It's the Dips, get the drift, this is Killa Season Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy It's King Jaffe-Jo get ya tape decks ready You gotta feel the heathen, we guerilla breathin' It's the Dips, get the drift, this is Killa Season Watch him kill the season, paid checks heavy It's King Jaffe-Jo get ya tape decks ready [Cam'Ron] That's 1 and out, let's go, let's keep it movin'. That's 1 song I mean let's go, you wanna get... I mean Hell Rell you ain't say nothing that song Let's go, Let's go. I mean that's 1 and out. That's 1 song down That's heat rock. Let's go. I'ma step out. J.R. lace 'em up I'ma come back in a minute. Ya'll get busy Alright we got this man (Hell Rell). Let me hear a hook on this [Hook: J.R. Writer] It's kinda hard to doubt that we ain't a slaughterhouse Dip radio you're now tuned in to the Hardest Out Slash the first to ride, you ain't never heard of fly Have you mourning, nicca my G's is certified [Hell Rell] I slow flowed y'all to death These hustlas actin' like they coke hard to stretch Any broads wantin' me to put cash in they purse Like they wrote half of my verse, nope I give a few some credit, Dipset ya dude bring my cash on a verse Plus I hold a welfare card cause that's how I work I'm bout to buy a Aston Martin, throw you in the trunk Be at the Funk Flex show with you in the trunk If they said I couldn't do it, they put me to the test But I proved to all them suckers I was worthy of success Teacher said I was a uhh, was wastin' time in her class It was more like she was wastin' mine, I had them dimes on the ave Mamma said I was a dead shot locked up in a can Nope, got it poppin' with Cam, up in a drop like shabam But why they knockin' that man, cause of the rocks on his hand Or the Air Forces they'll never see cause they got copped at Japan Damn, man I know he a gangsta, and he pop his steel He supposed to be dead or locked up why he got a deal He was just shootin a uzi, now he shootin a movie And all his mans startin' to act like groupies I slow flowed y'all to death These hustlas actin' like my flow hard to catch Man Diplomats we the strongest force On or off the court we ball and ball the sport [Hook: J.R. Writer] It's kinda hard to doubt that we ain't a slaughterhouse Dip radio you're now tuned in to the Hardest Out Slash the first to ride, you ain't never heard of fly Take it how you want it coward our G's is certified [Hell Rell] Sleepin' high with visions of my enemies Beggin' for mercy crawlin on the floor like a centipede Screamin' Rell please don't shoot me I got children Should've thought about those snotty nose kids when you was snitchin' But now I'm on a mission, yeah fresh out the kitchen A stand up dude who only sit when he shhh You sit when you pissin', dude listen My talent was God-given, got wise by hard livin' I Sleep all day, smoke haze, monage women I spit these hard rhythms it feel like a car hit 'em So leave that boy a lone can't you see he in the zone Dudes try to be like 'em can't you see he gettin' cloned All this blue and this yellow can't you see it in the stones And yeah we brought them hammers Cam we never leave 'em alone So move back, I'm poppin off the 4 Heaven let me in because I'm knockin' on ya door It's Prada on my whores And na I don't really do to many funerals, but I gotta go to yours I gotta see the face of a coward Please man let the homie breathe give me a taste of that power My chain hate my watch, my watch hate my ring My jewelry goin' crazy, gotta get some new bling So all praise is due to Hell Rell it's the new religion Smack ya girl pop 2 in her ????? [Hook x2] [Cam'Ron] That's 2 and out. Let's go Dennis. You movin' slow Dennis Let's go Dennis. That's 2 and out good work. Good work J.R. you up man. Hold on. Stop it. Stop it D, I mean, you got something to say. That's 2 and out We early. Koch put that E.P. together. That's 2 songs Nuts and dirty (Funk Flex). I mean c'mon. I mean excuse me Flex Excuse me, 2 minutes. Can I get 2 minutes. Let's do what we told to do New York we run this here. I mean pa listen it's J.R.'s turn I'ma do the chorus you ready. Let me get this son. I just wrote son Let me see I'ma... It's my turn I ain't get a chorus off yet I'ma go in first then. Aiight That's 3 songs and out. Let's do it [Cam'Ron] My dude ridin, he ridin in Lamborghinis The oyster mixed with linguini, you hear me? He's a rida! All in together, together we gettin cheddar Yo cheddar we get together, you hear me? He's a rida! My dude ridin, he ridin in Lamborghinis The oyster mixed with linguini, you hear me? He's a rida! All together, together we gettin cheddar You dude's you know better, why? He's a rida! [J.R. Writer] Listen pal, I ain't gotta spit, child you was not as sick Foul for a while, look my style is anonymous (Anonymous!) Pound for pound of piff, smile cuz I'm drownin it Yous a fake G like a thousand in counterfeits I can show you how to flip that bird How to hit that curb, how to get that served Youngin, I'm the shhh, that's word Yous a prick, fag, herb, you get pimped slapped heard? Huh, come get wit a rebel, I'll put the kid to the pedal The clip and the metal, I'm sickenin nephew Listen here...Your F-in engineer couldn't get to my level Dipset is forever B, bet y'all remember me Stretch all my enemies, heckler send 'em three But, I got a tech that'll get a G To drop his flag like a ref on a penalty I'm fresher than lemon squeeze, wrist wrap chill Pitch black car wit them pitch black wheels Nice more stash box, big black steel Leave you at the red light, the kid's that real! Steppin in his Nikes, freshest in your sight You ain't never seen these F-in Pella in ya life! I throw on fresh gear, throw on fresh wear This is something you will have to throw on next year, Yea! [Hook] [J.R. Writer] Listen scrap believe me, you need crack to see me I'm a classic, one of your old scratched up CD's Check my swag it's easy That you can see I do the damn thing and I ain't Fab or Jeezy I stepped to the crap wit Weezy Front of the tenements Posted up on post, hundred Dominicans That'll clap you soon as you go to beef wit J Throw a couple at you once they hear Dida Le! Putcha brains all across the pavement You niggaz singin like you singin how you talk to agents But drop my name, and I'ma stop Throw in a box like some caps at a hop-scotch game I cop drops mane, come peep what I whip whore A 62, got it jumpin like a 6-4 Soon as I hit tour, brrr, caught a chill Sleeves on freeze, add up to a quarter mil! I'm bout to talk my deal, that's what a thug about Killa, hate sharing, tell 'em I need another house! I dig ya motha out, then put her in a cab Gas her up then hit the hooker wit them slabs What you think? Naw I ain't a rookie wit it fag She'll have to boof that in a cookie like a pad You rookies are just mad, you can't say shit to me You gotta get ridda me, I'm bout to make history [Hook] [Cam'Ron] I mean, hold on, that's three and out, hold on Don't even play yet put that on pause B New York City, we gonna take a slight intermission because if you do this up here, you bitin We knocked three songs out. You can only do it in one take That means we didn't punch in. That means I one taped it J.R. one taped it. Hell Rell one taped it. We chorused it out That means the business is right The rhymes is right and if you come up here and try freestyle a song you're bitin (you swagger jackin) I mean you did a solo song Hell Rell right that means you repped BX Borough, you repped the Dominicans I'm 140 and Lennox to the death So we might as well do something together Capo get ready to take the motherfu...uh... Capo take the Mazoratti up to 200, we goin in, lets go Tape this for Santana when he get back Let's get 16's off, I got the chorus on this, y'all back up Let's go, I got the chorus You ready, New York City we run the motherfuckin building, pardon me Take it, take it back B I messed up because I'm talking too much Take it from the top. Take it from the top New York, I mean, I mean I know y'all gon home and write hard tonight I know y'all gon home and write hard tonight [Cam'Ron] Ya'll Diplomats, y'all kickin this chicken scratch What you can't g-get wit that, homeboy go flip a pack Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! I said It's the Diplomats, what y'all kickin this chicken scratch Ya'll can't g-get wit that, homeboy go flip a pack Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! [J.R. Writer] Listen, I'm worth a couple figures, always hurtin all these niggaz That I'm OC, tryin to stuff the purple in the swisher Convertible just picture, how I swerve up on your sister Wit a dance, tip dance that'll turn her to a stripper Ya the burner by the zipper, burn em, turn 'em to a pisser Shit 'em mister in a river, you gon learn that I am sicker Determined to be bigger, birds I serve 'em to these niccas Call the cops, they ain't seen these type of murderers since Hitler Shit if I know em, I'm quick to expose 'em Wristery frozen, reason why your chick on my scrotum I'm lifted and potent on some shit that is potent Fresh out the pot, 2Pac couldn't picture my rollin [Hook: Cam'Ron] I said It's the Diplomats, y'all kickin this chicken scratch Ya'll can't g-get wit that, homeboy go flip a pack Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! I said It's the Diplomats, what y'all kickin this chicken scratch Ya'll can't g-get wit that, homeboy go flip a pack Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset! Dip-Dip-Dip-Dipset!

TAB AND LYRICS COMMENTS:

There is no comments for the funkmaster flex hot 97 freestyle lyrics sheet music yet. Please post one now!

© 2020 TabCrawler Online Guitar Tab and Music Lessons Archive