Cassidy vs. Freeway [Lyrics] (2003)

[Round 1: Cassidy]

Nigga I’ll show you how a biscuit taste
Trash bag, sticky tape, man pick a lake
I’m getting’ cake on the corner usually
And I’ll put you to sleep like a boring movie
I’m tired of niggas screaming they drove a .6 range
Well I need 6 O’s doc, pocket change
I’m a stay in the shop choppin’ the ‘caine
Til it look like niggas play Hockey on my chain
I’ll run in ya spot with a Stockton on my face
Cocked and pop I’m a stink I’m sloppy with the 8
Listen man, I’ll have you tied to ya bed
You play dumb dumb, til some inside of ya head
Off the side of the bridge on some Nino shit
I’ll hold dice and pull metal on some Casino shit
Niggas gamble with they life on some hero shit
And get a fuckin’ scarred face on some Pacino shit
Now I might not know it all, but b know this
When it’s war y’all crumble like Dorito chips
I’ll pass ya strip every day, I don’t see no bricks
Man, I’m a pit, you a pussy, so we don’t mix
Go ahead, spit bout ya jewels, I love that they froze up
You gon do the same thing when Cass put them fo’s up
Take ‘em all off and race off like I drove up
This year raw 16’s nigga no cuts

[Round 1: Freeway]

You ain’t fucking with Free for 2 reasons
My 2 kids, 2 mouths to feed
I broke his paws, shoot niggas out they trees
Birdy niggas y’all get pushed right off ya block
Freeway, when you see me call the cops
Like I’m Pac, you ain’t ready to die then don’t ride
All my niggas load to ya (?) and don’t cry
No weapon bro to ya nine and won’t die
Hood niggas but it’s a Amere and Little Ant
Middle by the summer leave you dead where you stand
If you thought you was fuckin’ with Freeway, you can’t
C-A-N apostrophe T, Tiger Woods nigga, pop at ya Tee
Then I hop in a D-E-L-T-A ’88, move ‘yay from state to state
(?) scrape the plate
No fist fight, keep racks, scrape ya face
Like I got 10 and forever to go, ride with my man, it’s whatever with O
Calico in my hand, feel like it got forever to blow
It’s just some shit that I’m happy to know
Tape don’t sell still get a stack for a O
5 or half, advance money, brick and a tuck
I’m not dumb, no hits and I’m stuck
But believe me I’m a gun, no hits and you fucked
In ya house Sunday like NFL
I’m Freeway, don’t fuck around with men that tell
Cuz believe me it get chilly when you in that cell
I’m from P-H-I-L-L-Y, AJ Reed niggas got LL knocked
In the feds, need to just let Gotti ride
I know young niggas that’ll body cops, stop!
And think about what you facing here, I end your career
And go buy a pack of woods and roll me an L
Freeway, I’m the hood, I’m reppin’ it well
Last year this time, Free was under the jail
This year this time Free run with the Roc, AK, Snubs and Glocks
Put the gat to ya mom til these plug ya pops
Better stack, wanna rhyme with me? Break ya pot
Get a car wanna ride with me, take ya drop
Got some coke, wanna rhyme with me, break a strip
Matter fact take a strip, make it flip
When you gon realize that the flow don’t stop?
Need money like Castro, dough don’t stop
Nigga you get what you ask for, bullets or bars?
If the nigga from the hood then the nigga a star
Freeway still get at his nut, pause
Let young niggas from the hood parlay in my car
Take ‘em with me when I cash my checks so they can see clean money
Came from spitting the raw, now off a bundle gotta stash the rest

[Round 2: Cassidy]

When I get hard with rhymes I shine like lip gloss
You pissed off cuz ya dick small so the condom slip off
I stick thick whores and hit walls until they clit soar
And get scalled until my dick fall, I’m a sick boy
Throw a couple rocks in the watch so it could glist’ more
If you knew your rhymes wasn’t liver than mine then what you spit for?
I do like jewels, ice cubes circle the wrist
Y’all packs selling cats jealous, we working with bricks
Watch yo mouth cuz you bout to be the person I hit
You supposed to be rich? You can’t even purchase a whip
I’m a boss so I floss in a convertible 6
And get sucked by them sluts you get personal with
It’s B. Cass, known for chrome and a ski mask
I’m so dope I should get thrown in a rehab
I need cash, bottom line
Ever since I signed the dotted line I been outta my mind
Man my eyes on the dollar signs and more coke
You guys just trying to shine so y’all broke
We all smoke, breathing the ganja
And I don’t pop Chrys, I need something stronger
I drink that 151 and can’t drive
I call God like “come get me, one”
Tipsy off rum? I’ll palm my gun
You like Wyclef, “somebody call 9-1-1 when I wan’ come”
My chick take pipe for me, all night for me, take flights for me
Y’all getting it first, this my life story
It’s like I get actual ghost to write for me
If I’m starving, I’m in ya apartment, you a dead man
Clap, turn ya Sixers hat into a headband
You got a scared hand, fumble ya coke
Get cuffed up then butt fucked, fumble the soap
You hugging the post, crack and a gun in ya coat
All winter, but then all summer you broke
If I feed you some coke, the pack gone
Or get a gun like ‘that’ long, to ya back dog, ya back gone
I watch you holler on the pavement
Next day his family put flowers on the pavement
Dog, holla at my agent, my schedule tough
I’m in a Benz while Shiz getting head in a truck
My Presidential Bezzie heavy as fuck
I aim at ya neck, then catch you at ya head if you duck
My eyes red from the dutch, I get raw on the album
Everybody hear me and be like, “yo shorty a problem”

[Round 2: Freeway]

I’m a Rocafella heat spitter, Desert Eagle heat holder
Niggas wanna eat with us, they know that we taking over
Rocafella heat spitters, Desert Eagle heat holder
The neighborhood he coming from is crime infested
And where he get that money from? It’s old and stinking
And it’s a whole lot of it
Until I see some legal change then I can’t grow out of it
Hitting the block every chance I get, 800 dollar hoopties, pants and kicks
To get me around, 2 bricks will get you around
But getting read with 2 bricks will get you sick in the gut
And stuck in the jail, grown men sitting around
Look at me now, B. Sieg’ songs with Jay, Miles away from PA to MIA
I gotta see my P.O. I don’t think I’ll stay for the whole trip
Big titty women that show shit
In the hood fuck big titty women and hold clips
The shit so different from Philly when we rollin’
Niggas roll socks to they knees and cut off jeans
Bad bitches with bubble gum (?)
And I had bitches that just wanted to smut
From LA to Maine, get brain, wanted to suck
Remember wearing same jeans, dirt stain in the cuff
And where I put my hand in
Remember hooking ya school with bad bitches
Wouldn’t let me put my man in
But now shit changed I can pull my man in
And pull his man in and have a three-way tag and be on some Pac shit
Treat ‘em just like that

[Round 3: Cassidy]

When the truck leave, what the hard stares for?
Cuz I cut keys like a hardware store?
It’s funny, but, ever since I got my money up
I date chicks with fake tits and tummy tucks
They love to fuck and I got lots of condoms
I just go on my block to find ‘em
I wait til they drive pass and wave my watch behind ‘em
And they pull over thinking that the cops behind ‘em
Cuz the rocks blind ‘em like police car lights
My cock not dying, I keep hard pipe
And I’ll creep your wife like “hoe, holla!”
And I’ll probably write your album, you don’t no problems
I had four dollars and flip that
Bought a soda, 2 dutches, some chips, and a Kit Kat
Got 25 cent back, made a phone call like
“Yo Swizz drop the chrome off, I got a easy one
You don’t even need to come, but dawg I need the gun”
Cuz I’d rather be in a pen before I be a bum
It’s a lot of cake out here and I ain’t eating none
Guess I gotta take out here to get a piece of some
You dumb niggas don’t question me, cuz I ain’t really eating
I be just speaking hypothetically
But come to lime, kill pike, I’m like a celebrity
And still got one headlight on the celebrity

[Round 3: Freeway]

You must don’t know, I don’t play, don’t kid around
Got a big truck nigga? AK sit her down
If you got a low rider the AK lift her up
Got a baby mama? AK stick her up, nigga save the drama
AK lift you up, off ya feet
Break her down, put her up, never toss the heat
Dick her down, eat me up, never toss ya freak
But my young boy hit, said he toss the sneaks
And a couple of ones, Freeway cold cannon with a couple of guns
If you must know, rap and crack consecutive funds
Free pack the gat, clap the second you run
Bullets travel thru ya chest, in and out, leave a hole, air crush ya lungs
Chain watch solid gold but I switched the plaque
Sumi Muslim pack guns like my brothers in Iraq
Keep the government, push ‘em and they wonder why they clap
We similar to that, sleep
And you be like Saddam, niggas can’t find where you at
And when my man got clapped
I just had to realize that Allah took him and I just can’t bring him back
So I got them (?) prayed that he made the agenda
Before I rob a bank, pray nobody get injured
But there’s always a tough guy, brave and bold
That quick he’ll be a bus guy, laid ‘em cold
My description: freezing hot guy, blazin’ cold
Why you bitching? You built like Popeye, play your role
And I hide ya spinach in the back of my safe
Put you back in ya place, put the mac in ya face
Nigga guns don’t mean a thing if you ain’t got that heart to pull
Freeway, cold gun, sharp like a harpoon
Make you ride with ya jewels, don’t sleep, keep heat
Smart, sharp with the tool, bust, sharp with the scale
Weigh O’s, wrap ‘em up, ship ‘em out all day, plus
I spit sick, switch flows like ya draws
Free, roll with some stars
Free, get head from ya chick when she roll in my car
Plus, when she roll in my car she holding them grams
Ain’t shit change but the Pontiac six thousand to the dot 6 range
Same block where my pop flipped ‘caine

[Round 4: Cassidy]

I don’t got a whip, but I got my chicks Z3 Ki’
Low top, dropped out like a GED
Rican bitch eating my dick like “Ben Aqui”
I’m on my celly watching Belly on a DVD
If I get robbed, you get 5 in ya eniche
B blow and my P.O. tryna see my pee
I’m NBC, news time blasting eights
Keep ya cool for you lose like half ya face
Run in ya house, cover ya mouth with masking tape
Let my chick strap on the dick, his ass get raped
Everybody gotta die, why procrastinate?
You get put in a casket for making trashy tapes
If I pass you base and you spend my gravy
Then I ask for my papes and you pretend you crazy
I’ll put ten in ya avy and pretend you paid me
Leave you stuffed in a dumpster like Brenda baby
Motherfucka!

[Round 4: Freeway]

Brother it’s sixteen bars, you’re one hundred and sixteen
I spit mean bars, niggas running I click beams on
The cream long, it match the dot
The number on my car before the V
Match the number on my jeep after the dot
What? Creep you think I’m not? Huh?
Run up in yo shop and take everything you working for
D.T.’s gripped my young boys and said “I know who you working for”
Fresh Roc shit, Guess jeans, who you working for?
Tinted up Delt’s, whole team, who you working for?
Catch a case, Cochran in the room
Judge like “damn Johnny who you working for?”
It used to hurt when I hit ya chick, now she like
“Freeway it don’t hurt no more
Eat me up til my man don’t squirt no more”
You wanna hear some bomb shit, real shit, street shit
What you searching for? Free shit, new shit
Damn where you copped that at?
Tower Records? Okay, I’m on top of that, I can Roc wit that
The boy nice, fuck the price, fuckin’ roll, roll the dice
Two sixes, what’s up with all these 12’s in my life?
On the block moving 12-12’s, I got locked did a quarter to 12
Cops sat me in a 12 by 12 cell, withheld my bail for 12 days
My celly got knocked for a body with a 12 gauge
He said “Free, let’s break out I got 12 ways
And 12 niggas that’ll rush the C.O. we gotta get thru 12 gates”
He introduced me to Dino down at District
He had to flush a 12th of a kilo and he missed it
He just had a knew baby girl, he wanna hug her
His baby mom fuckin’ some chump, he wanna slug ‘em
Went to court then shit got beat, Free back on the streets
So the chrome inside the rubber

[Round 5: Cassidy]

Yo I’m just like my dad
When I was young he stashed guns in my diaper bag
See my pits? They’ll skit and they’ll bite ya ass
I’m in a 4.0 S type of Jag
Y’all broke, y’all coke make the Piper’s mad
And all eyes on me – What y’all some type of fags?
Mad cuz my shit plush dog I like to flash
Yall rockin’ regular clothes where they slice the tags
And if a nigga come at Cass like he’s sweet
He get the double pipe to eat, I like to beef
Still like Ny’Quil, put you right to sleep
I’ll break your ankles if I like your sneaks
Put your mouth on the curb, make you bite the street
Leave most of yall missin like piper teeth
You flip twice a week, you hustlin’ or what?
Stop getting it mixin it, cutting it all up
Whole quarter key see, you fuckin it all up
You see him, BM truckin it all up
You cutting the raw up? well I can help ya
You’ll have dimes the size of Alka-Seltzers
When I bring it to you, man you can’t be scurred
Cuz you’re gon’ get served
If I don’t get mine then you gon’ get yours
I’ll burn each one outta these
Your whole head’ll crack like sunflower seeds

[Round 5: Freeway]

Niggas give me handshakes, is they fake or real? Uh
Person’s grill will hurt your stomach,
Because a nigga face shows how he feels
Especially if he’s drunk or blunted
I don’t chill, don’t squeal, hold gats, several macks, couple pumps
Two nines, if you felines, thank you – run it
I tear ya, out your paper like coupon’s he think he run it
I run through thugs – Jackie Journer
I shoot through thugs – pack the burner
I’m from the hood where they pack the corners
And the DT’s hit the block
They leave then we right back on the corner,
We breed niggas that’ll run in your shop
I love niggas that’ll run in your house
Yall fake niggas just be runnin your mouth, yeah
Till we run in your spot
Where the shit right there, damn is he thuggin’ or not?
All this cheese and he ain’t put up a fight
B. Sieg kid put up his life, and for him F-R-E doing the same
I slide through in the range, F-R-E screwing your dame
Got to your bricks thanks to your bitch and that’s life, uh
Strike the Sheppard and the sheep willl scatter
I bust shots in your boss crib, heat up his house
Fragments from .22 shells sit in your bladder
You lose fat cells, shit in a pouch
You bullshittin’ with bars, I spit raw same shit from my flock
Niggas pressed for a deal, same shit when they locked
Rappin’ to the DT, I guess you figure you locked
And your man out whippin’ and your bitch out fuckin’
And your cell too skinny and the food ain’t nothin’
And ain’t nobody lookin’ so you just said fuck it
No parameters, y’all niggas amateurs
Before rap shit, threw clips low from cameras
Awkward rap style, hard to handle us
Move them crack vials filled to Los Angeles
Moved with hood niggas, hard to point us out
Triple wood, no figures, hard to wipe us out

[Round 6: Cassidy]

Y’all playboy’s doing a lot of hating
But they see me in the street and be quick to speak like salamu alakium
Good brother, I’m in the hood brother
And the hood love us for wrapping good butter
And I don’t wanna get on ya tracks, I’m good brother
You come from a hood of suckers, I could see the past
To see the cash, I throw ounces in freezer bags
To keep my pockets fat like Trina ass
And believe when Cass slay these whores
They get the type of dick they should pay me for
But I don’t go in these ladies raw
Cuz then they pop up pregnant claiming that the baby yours
And I don’t get blood took to see
I just wait til it’s born then I’m gone if it don’t look like me
And it look like B, ahead of the rest
Cuz every verse you get pissed on like pregnancy tests
If the pipe ya habit, then holla, I’ll price and bag it
Get powdered every hour like diaper rashes
I need psychiatrics to strap me down
I got a track record, ask around
I’ll snatch a clown, pat him down, take his cheese
Then leave and come back around and do it twice
You see me and my back is down, I’m shootin’ dice
And I might cut the cords if the loot is right
But dawg, I ain’t the losing type, you picked the game and I’ll bet
Especially on a Sixers game, when I get some change I’ma start rebuilding
Buy stock and cop some apartment buildings
Niggas better start chilling ‘fore shit get crucial
My guns like my dick, bigger than usual
And screw you cats that’s in the rap business
Keep my name out yo mouth ‘fore you get smacked in it

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