Triple Please

Stretch and Bobbito ft. The Bad Seed, Icon, Meat Pie, and Pumpkinhead - “The Bad Seed, Icon, Meat Pie, and Pumpkinhead CM Famalam Freestyle” [Emcee(s): The Bad Seed, Icon, Meat Pie, and Pumpkinhead] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 1: [?]] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 2: [?]] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 3: [?]] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 4: [?]] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 5: [?]] [Producer(s) of Instrumental 6: [?]] [Verse 1: The Bad Seed] Ayyo, told you before. Now you laying close to the floor You forgot what the black thing in the holster was for I’m a legend in the hood like Bishop and Tommy Bunds Like old-school shit: Stan Smiths, Tommy Gun Two fifths cripple you, but the MAC’ll body son And I don’t fear no nigga that breathe—not a one Looking at me, you looking at about two mill You looking at a nigga destined. Every week, new wheels If I don’t hold New York down, then, dog, who will? My album drop, niggas break up like Dru Hill Starting coloring their hair and shit. Rocking thong Underwear and shit. That right there is bitch How you gon’ come amongst dogs when you scared of pits? Only time you wile out: when you recording a skit I rewind that and ask E-Rock, “Yo, where the 9 at?” Let’s go to these cats’ show, put a hole where their spine at Everything realer than real on my DATs A lot of niggas gon’ crash at the wheel for my tracks A lot of bitches gon’ drop they drawers when I rap ‘Cause life ain’t nothing but money. Besides that Don’t shit count. I buy my beats on discount ‘Cause it’s good as gold whenever my shit’s out Every word fall on blades whenever it slips out Seeing you at the Grammys, holding my trophy with my dick out Million of cats is running up with their picks out Ready to die for me. Holler at me with your chips out Niggas going bitch route? Put hits out Then we get the chicks out, ice crucifix out Chips out, whips out, gun and clips out Niggas scared like it’s the day Suge gets out State your name, gangster. Bad Seed, motherfucker Pull your boots up. Go tell your mother I want to fuck her [Verse 2: Icon] Ayyo, all y’all niggas weaker than fuck. Don’t make me Creep in a truck. With the blings on, heaters is up Because y’all niggas won’t see a thing. We all need the cream I’m so cheap, I’ll squeeze a quarter ‘til the Eagle scream Angelica, Marie, Tanya, and me dropped in a V Dropped in my seat, cocking my heat If niggas try to front, then I’m popping my heat With the gold Lo lenses on—eighty a piece I’ll have my niggas put your parts in a bottle, put your Heart to the nozzle and give it to you like Paul Castellano I’m greedy in life, willing to bite, Phillies I like Yeah, I like guns, but only the Israelian kind Aim for the sky, hold my pistol, aim to the side I want a platinum Desert with my name engraved on the side I is the pope. Bitches keep their eyes on the rope Sixty inches long, so my penis slide on the floor Ride with a whore. All y’all niggas die on the floor I’m not a drycleaner but I keep an iron/eye on them all Swim with the sharks, get money or sleep in the park The world is too big. If you don’t get money, you’re fucked Nigga [Verse 3: Meat Pie] You could catch me on [?] Ave With the baddest Spanish mami just shaking her ass Outside, hustling icebergs, smoking the grass Watch fiends stumble up the block. We just kick ‘em and laugh Got soldiers in the wastelands, crystals on the smash Hundred-thousand-dollar cars, cold steel, and the stash Beef, you don’t want it. I’m old-school like MASH Take about eight niggas to pull my foot out your ass Brooklyn be the borough, New York be the state Filled with grimy niggas eating off the same plate And me and my team came to do. You never seen before Hundreds of gorillas kicking down the doors Strapped with street sweepers, Calicos, and .44s Backed by fans, groupies, pimps, and hoes In the streets, they hold me down like the Timbs on my feet But I’m dirty, keep my hands like my balls and my meat You heard me? New York [Verse 4: Pumpkinhead] I’m a underground vet. I get ‘nough respect And I rep the home of The Jets and The Mets Yo, pet, don’t do something that you might regret ‘Cause if you want drama, that’s what you gon’ get And when you’re on the train, bumping my cassette You nod your head so hard, people think you got Tourette’s I’ll fuck up your brain when I cross lanes like Stephon for The Nets I’ll drop bombs, I’ll pop chrons It’s cold weather, god. Very cold weather, god I’ll freeze my enemies zero degrees with their leathers on Causing frostbite, I sever arms. Upper echelon With the thoughts of a terrorist from Lebanon I’m paid, you played like a back from Benetton My weapon’s on. By the second song, your neck is gone I’ma Genghis Khan this track, break his back I’ma go plat ‘cause your moms sell my tape for crack Fuck that. Yo, yo, you know my style’s iller Yo, y-yo, yo, it skipped up Who next? Bad Seed, don’t trip up [Verse 5: The Bad Seed] Ayyo, please allow me to introduce myself Who the best, dog? Got to tell the truth: myself Who the only cat I fear in the booth? Myself Get money, get wealth for my health—who else? It’s Bad-to-the, Bad Seed-to-the Smoke weed ‘til I look like a Chinese nigga Run with straight thugs and grimiest niggas Got beef? Clinton Hill where you find me, nigga Come get it if you want it, dog. You know how to get it Catch a two-piece with biscuits right to your fitted Niggas look at Bad Seed like, “Damn, he shouldn’t” Mothers lose a son every time Seed spit it Niggas mad, want to be Bad Seed critics ‘cause they Know their baby momma probably let Seed hit it And, yup, Seed did it and my man Seed with it Any plan Seed start, that’s a plan Seed finish Nigga [Verse 6: Icon] Ayyo, my flow is like cocaine. Y’all niggas is So lame, y’all like Kurt Cobain—no brains You need to button it up, or, your grill, yo, I’m lumping it up OK, uh huh, what’s up? Shut up I don’t play that. Y’all niggas need to save that Or I’ma put something hot where your face at So when you look in the mirror, nigga, you could face that You gonna see bullet holes all in your facemask I’m on some Friday the 13th shit—where the lake at? I’ma strap a Mazda 626 to your waistband And watch you sink slow. My cuatro-cinco flow Spits a hundred and one rounds like Dalmatians And fuck them cars you’ve got—I’m copping a spaceship 2001 Space Odyssey without the apes in it We went from Goodyears to Michelins to Pirellis Half of these niggas big, half these niggas Machiavelli Half of these niggas is menace, half of these niggas belly Half of them keep their mouth closed, half of them telling The fuck you doing in rap? Y’all niggas need to be shooting Oops, my bad. They ain’t picked you out for the movie You must not had the flow, the look, or the jewelry You never had the dough, a ho, or a O-Z, nigga [Verse 7: Meat Pie] Ayyo, my crew bang shit like Bloods and Crips This the clique? You might end up in a ditch With holes and shit, black eyes and fat lips Pardon me for my behavior—man, fuck that shit I’m living my life. Every night, I’m fucking my wife I’m keeping it trife, dirty like used baby wipes You think I ain’t nice? Nigga, then you’re best to think twice I’m holding my own. O.B.S. controlling the throne You’re thinking you’re grown? One blast, niggas is gone Out in the streets, niggas be packing the heat You’re thinking it’s sweet? You must not know the Meat The Magnum P leave you with casualties The tragedy is that you fucked with we O.B.S. Who you thought it was supposed to be? I’m locing, G. Acting like I’m not supposed to be Come close, you’ll see how we blaze niggas accurately [Verse 8: Pumpkinhead] I’m too nice. Y’all niggas can’t fuck with me The biggest thing to hit the city since Kim Fields’ titties Y’all not ready. I’m lined up. My cold flows Freezes frames and leave eyes stuck You couldn’t beat me if I sucked. I’ll throw Wild pitches at emcees. Oh, see? Now your time’s up Blind fuck tied up with no way to escape I’m the rope, the gag, and the dynamite taped to your waist You bite so much, in the winter, your mouth breeds The shape of my face. Nondescript rap condiment Get put on, but ate due to lack of confidence I'll see "The Bitch in Yoo" but no Common Sense Your rhymes couldn’t be fat if you injected them with collagen I’m hot like halogen. You blow like lots of wind Yo, y’all niggas need to start following Yo, wack emcees I’m swallowing and gobbling Them niggas ain’t got nothing for me. It’s gory Pumpkinhead flip freestyle—end of story Niggas can’t fuck with me when I’m in a zone I’ll break your bones, leave you home alone Beat you in the head with my cellular phone Yo, I’ll come through always. Yo, I’m long like Project hallways. Freak it like foreplay all day Yo, check it out. Freestyle my forte Yo, I’m so intelligent, my brain boxes itself I shoot like a Glock on your shelf that you got up Ayyo, I’m propped up. I’m out to mop up Leave emcees broke up. Yo, I’ll choke up All the dust in my lungs from the blunt that I brung Yo, check it. Represent O.B.S “For the Kids” Bad Seed record. Go get it Straight up, yo, emcees get ate up [Verse 9: The Bad Seed] Bad Seed five-foot-nine, big cock Little dude with big plans and big Glocks Don’t get it twisted ‘cause I love hip hop I’ll run up in your crib, pop you, bloody your flip flops Now you was too hype—probably ‘cause you had Belly on But you don’t belong here like little Elián I got your moms hostage—leave your celly on For ransom. She don’t want to leave—she think I’m handsome I don’t blame her, though. My name say it all I’m that nigga you all know with the dangerous flow About the size of Buckshot with the power of Freddie Foxxx Push weight and rock steady, move steady rocks You like what I got on my neck? Then come get it Push you back, hand on your face, mush you, black In front of your priest and niggas with kufi hats My Blockbusters you can’t get movies at And everywhere I go, a nigga leave booby traps I’ll break you up like Polo and Kool G Rap This for my dogs and my bitches with their doobies wrapped Keep it street like the ground where my shoes be at Ayyo, ayyo, ayyo, fuck that shit Bad Seed come through with the ruck rap shit That click-clack shit. Niggas get flipped backwards ‘Cause off the top of my ho, ayyo, I’ll bone broads on the mattress You know my style be the fattest Flip the beat up, ayyo, ayyo, and speed it up Bad Seed come through. Ayyo, I’ll beat it up Like some coochie. Come through, never rock [?] But you might see me chilling with a chick with a doobie Wrapped up and flipped up, click-clacked up I’ll come through. Motherfuckers be getting smackedup Tattoo on my neck, tattoo on my arm Ayyo, yo, Flex drop bombs On my record. If you don’t believe me, you could check it B.D.S. coming through. You know how we do My nigga J grand master plan Ayyo, ayyo, rubber band around my hand Uh, snap it back, flip you in your nose You know how I come through: get in your mom’s pantyhose Uh, ayyo, I used to have a earring in my nose But I took it. Ayyo, go the Brooklyn route Hop on the Manhattan Bridge. Ayyo, this is “For the Kids” My style be mad ill whenever, when niggas want skids With the, with the lottos. Ayyo, niggas want to act ill? Ayyo, I’ll grab the motherfucking bottle And break it on a... Uh. Ayyo, it’s sped up again Bad Seed come through. I’m getting fed up again Let’s go head up again. Ayyo, he changed the beat And I’ma pass the microphone because this shit for the streets [Verse 10: Icon] Everything I’m spitting is raw Spit for the streets, spit for the morgues Spitting with heat, spitting with bars If the fucking cops arrest me, I’ll spit through the bars My flow is fucking NASA—I’m spitting from Mars Spit for the cats, spit for the dogs Heaven or Hell, Satan or God. My soul’ll spit ‘til I’m gone Fuck that. I’m setting it off, letting it off The weapons I draw went in y’all oral, deading y’all all Arms, legs, eyeballs, heads on the floors Fingers, toes, earlobes, chest on the floors And I’ma be the first nigga to make a song called “Fuck All Y’all” Fuck the cops and fuck the law, fuck the war Break into a fucking whorehouse and fuck a whore Jump off the bitch, then flip and fuck the floor Fuck them broads, fuck them raw, fuck them all Middle fingers in the air, nigga. Fuck all y’all ‘Cause them type of niggas that be tempting me To walk into your studio and empty three in your MPC Put you in ER like NBC Bootleg your album, sell that shit on MP3 And my bullets got tracking devices, so when they hit, they exit clean Part your back, cave your chest, and buckle your knees See, y’all labels who want to sign me? Give me a Benz for free Fuck them labels who didn’t sign me, fuck MTV ‘Cause, yo, my mouth is like a fucking loaded shotgun Some niggas bust, some niggas won’t, but everybody got one I’m gonna smoke you and your man and wait until the cops come Your top’s spun, nigga. We top gun, we gung-ho I’ll let the guns blow when the funds low With fucking AKs longer than Mutombo And this goes out to the best of y’all. We stretching y’all Middle fingers in the air, nigga. Fuck all y’all ‘Cause when it comes to I’s shit, I spit that hot shit I’ll verbally spit fucking toxic comments The only problem with that shit is that, with the force I’ma drop it There ain’t gonna be a nigga alive on the planet to watch it I’m from Brooknam, stomp you out, bloody galoshes To my Fort Greene ghetto grimies locked in the boxes To my grimy, ghetto niggas in Fort Greene projects We from BK, motherfuckers. It’s on—we’re popping ‘Cause when I cock my heater, I’ll make motherfuckers Hot like Easter, stop they re-ups, block their beepers That shit they kick’s softer than topless C-cups I got high-class motherfuckers dropping teacups ‘Cause that shit that I spit is ill. I told y’all niggas Word up, BK some shit you feel, nigga [Verse 11: Meat Pie] Hot style like kids from Columbine Uncontrollable when it come to dollar signs If you want it, shit, nigga, here’s mine ‘Nough heat up in the closet that’ll melt your spine And leak your mind. Bright lights’ll leave you blind Buried in the dirt ‘til the end of time The P ain’t lying. I spit shit to leave your fam crying Younger sibling mad as fuck ‘cause their brother’s dying Do I give a fuck? Nope. The nigga asked for it Ain’t got no love for you like I said on Brandon’s chorus Got niggas that’ll ride and broads that die for us Hoes up on the track—what more you want from us? Beats and lyrics to dance and fuck to Get high, get drunk—however you do you I’ma lay it down worse than calm and simple Magnum P rather burst like whitehead pimples And it don’t stop and we won’t quit ‘Cause we from the borough that pops ‘nough shit We come from BK, motherfucker, all day Represent my block, BK all the way Clinton Hill, Fort Greene, Flatbush, Bushwick All the motherfucking places. Williamsburg It’s still part of my rhyme. And niggas heard It’d be Brooklyn everyday, all day I don’t give a fuck where you come from, say: BK. Eyes closed, snot-nosed with a red eye Keep my shit going on like a jet in the sky But I’ma stop ‘cause I don’t freestyle Why not? ‘Cause my nigga P do. My man, Pumpkinhed Get on the mic with your eyes mad red Spit that shit outside with the Feds outside This nigga. The Feds are outside (Oh shit. The Feds is not outside) Yes, yes, they are nigga, and your eyes is red (They ain’t gonna catch me) They got you. They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming [Verse 12: Pumpkinhead] So what? My eyes was red. I was smoking a blunt There’s Feds outside. They try to give me what they want Maybe two to five for a bag that I had in my pants. Damn, man Them niggas trying to come real hard on me ‘Cause they got Castro in my damn country What’s the deal? Yo, we got mass appeal. We come through Yo, grabbing the steel. Yo, I’m grabbing the wheel Making the turn, making it burn. Yo, I’m like butter Making it churn. Niggas need to learn That when I spit freestyle, I’m no joke Emcees get broke down like Legos L’eggo my Eggo—that shit’s mine. The mic all the time I shine, break down emcees like enzymes Yo, I intertwine like jungle vines. A perfectionist I’m coming through, wrecking this. You disrespecting this You catch a TEC and clip to your neck and lips I’m not playing. Freestyle I’m displaying Pumpkinhead coming through. Emcees decaying Underground. In the cemetery, yo, I’ll leave ‘em buried Freestyle, yo, I’ll never worry. I’ll come through in a flurry Like cold snow in the winter. Ayyo Y’all niggas is stuck up like splinters I’m coming through and I’ll enter like Wu Yo. Yo, what you gonna do? Flip the beat on me. One to the two Yo, my name is Pumpkinhead. I’m from the Brooklyn Zoo Emcees can’t handle me. Yo, I’m like glue Yo, you bounce off you and stick to me Niggas try to front on me, I’ll leave them on their knees Yo, they breeze like a leaf. Ayyo, I’ll come through You can’t conceive. I’m like a lyrical disease Ayyo, I’ll come through and I’ll please All the shorties, yo, with the big booties Everything I’m rhyming ends with “-ies”/ease Get off these. Niggas, please. Yo I’ll come through. Y’all niggas is fucking queers Yo, y’all can’t fuck with me. I’m like Cheers A round of applause