Winter GRB 2007 - Round 1
rock
hiphop
rap
beats
east
east coast
hard
dope
south
samples
west
beat
thug
westcoast
gangster
street
grimey
hyphy
bling
science
downtown
sampled
downtown science
marxist
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Lyrics
Oh...
Its on man & yo, this ain’t no hard thang //
Shit, If this shit is Point Game, y’all can call me Lebron James//
Of all thangs, I got this country mutha phuka!//
I’d think Georgia’s on your mind, if I thought you’d support a thought brother//
Another phuker! Like your naval – you ain’t fit to waste//
That windowpane expression fag, I’ll leave you with a see-through face!//
You been away, so when I seen your name right next to mine//
Dawg, realize Kifner ain’t Prone to PG like Federline//
And Scratch snorting coke, your big ass be shooting cheddar lines//
And I ain’t talkin green. I’m talking Gouda, Cream, Feta Aite!//
Yeah, bet I’m tight – like your weight watchers belt buckle//
And that cranium you gots lookin like a wrecked knuckle!//
I melt knuckle heads as standard!//
Brandon’s 90210 on a scale – like Jason Priestly actin//
And any kat to back him better be rockin a back brace//
And I’ma body-bag ‘em this ain’t no potato sack race//
You a sad waste! I’ll leave your buds with a bad taste//
And have ‘em sayin Kifner got up in that ass like Lance Bass!//
I’ll leave you with a fanbase flatter than a pancake!//
You couldn’t touch my spit if I licked my palm & offered handshakes!//
Brandon here’s a band aid to help your severed joints//
I battle like I shoot & phuk – so please believe I melt & point!//
Yo it’s melting point & point game is a void name//
Who’s getting jocked all day for being a Gold Member without the toight frame//
Points lame a rapper slash a vocational slave bitch//
If dude had game he lost rights to the shit like Dr. Naismith//
Fag you need a facelift. Phuk it! You need a body lift//
You soft bitch, take your ass to Omen with that soggy shit!//
Yeah I’ma cocky prick & talkin bout my suavely dick//
Your pippi long stocking chick can polish it for nada kid//
You uncle Tom charlatan! keep your albums & groveling//
Show me a PG CD sold I’ll show you a cock he swallowed bitch//
Yo I got this whore checked – like a European whore, bet!//
That blunt skull look like you got dragged outta cunt with forceps//
I’m all vexed! RM, this is what you call vets?//
A dinosaur so pissed he pulled his hair out to a bald head?//
It’s all red! Got nytol? Cause all them tracks are boring pal//
I handle heavy point games, got some new sights on my .40 cal//
I run shit Berry Gordy Style, you ain’t wack cause your old age//
I phuks with that Hard target but don’t phuk with phukin point game!//
That’s a fag I call dead – a fat, useless, old phuk!//
A jigga prolly writin rhymes on Kool aid quartz & cold cuts//
Faggot you ain’t bold enough, I’ll crush your ass like mold & dust//
Call me Superman on laundry day – I’m finna fold this up!//
Showin up would be enough to get chu buried fast kid!//
You a fossil in this shit. A sickened geriatric!//
I’m finna make ya back-flip & crack your ass & bad hip!//
You a bitch! I’ma bad mutha phuka – like Shaft is!//
I’m laughin! You laughin? Shit I give you dap kid//
For doing this so many years, that now you’re movin backwards!//
And the fact is this, that this bastards done dude//
So I ain’t naming asian kids when I’m sayin Phuk Yuu!//