Kurupt Freestyle

[Kurupt/Drunken Master]

"Yo, I'ma do this like as if my mothafuckin' homeboy Rakim

was standin' right in fromt of me right now- Y'knaw-I-mean?"

"Drunken Master"

"Our freestyle's like, you know,

wit' a big, fat blunt in my hand

and some beer in my other hand"

G'd up, nigga- O.G.

Yeah, nigga- G'd up, nigga- O.G.

Drunken Master

G'd up, nigga- O.G.

Dogg Pound

Yeah, check it- Check it

Put it on

I could flip a style- Break 'em down, flip a brick a mile

Let 'em know I leave bodies in piles

Too versitile, I could even blurry the clouds

and makin' all visions blurry- Everybody worry like

'Oh, no! He's bustin'!' Then I bust in the flurries

And they don't know about me, homeboy, and observe

Get all served on the top of the curve and break 'em down

all the time, tryin' to bust a rhyme

You just a bitch by nature, snitch and I hate 'cha

Break 'em down all the time, I'm the earthquaker

Bring somethin' to the door you never saw before

like a 44 sawed-off in my Impala

My homeboy's about to pop two in your collas

Lay these niggas down, homeboy, make 'em holla

You don't know about a gangsta, homey

Comin' through, just a pranksta, homey

Flip it up, get it right- Ignite mics,

twice as nice, cold as ice- Oh, so precise

It be Kurupt, youg Gotti- Headlinin',

break 'em down in the potty- Can't nobody

do it like me, homey, and I know it

Fuck wit' me, nigga, I'm the Poltergeist Poet

When it comes to styles, I got 'em by the dozens;

just ask my momma, my fatha and my cousins

They'll tell ya the same- Know 'em by name

Run through then spit flame

Homeboys, I hit 'cha dead on your terrain

They don't wanna fuck around,

they don't got enough money to challenge my campaign

These rhymes, make 'em flow like champagne

Drive 'em down all the time then never, ever remain

Substain, substanstula, Dracula,

break 'em down Blackula, tarantula.

You don't know about styles, homey

I make 'em backflip, attack shit, I rap shit

Free shit, M.C.'s don't know I come through and speed shit

You know, fuckin' blaze-the-weed shit

You just a bitch, homey- You just a bitch

Bustin' a rhyme, you just a bitch!

Bitches is all I know 'cause that's all I see

when I look at your camp, claimin' that you amped

Homeboys get vamped and silent

I bring it all, homeboy, violence

They don't know about me, don't make me get violent

'cause I make you leave the whole place in silence- It's silent

Huh, yeah, yeah

Wh-what-wh-what!

Yeah, yeah

"Check it out"

"Let me take a toke"

"Yeah, yeah, let's blaze this weed,

you-know-what-I'm-sayin'? Drunken Master and Kurupt!"

[Drunken Master]

Pop the champagne, blaze the weed

Professional Chedda Chasers got what 'chu need

Ya don't stop, uh,

ya don't quit

Pop the champagne, blaze the weed

Professional Chedda Chasers got what 'chu need

Ya don't stop...

[Instrumental switches to "It Ain't My Fault"'s instrumental]

[Kurupt]

"For my niggas down in the South, Atlanta

Check it out"

I heard you had somethin' that I want

I heard you was in the back, I was in the front

So what I'm gonna do besides switch up

and get 'em in the side- See 'em, make 'em bitch up

Punk, you don't know me, nigga

I heard you talkin' before, know you walkin' for

the side like you 'bout to escape but I'm 'bout to make

sure this whole place is draped in yellow tape, homey

And I want the money first- Get 'em right,

disperse one rhyme, hit 'em wit' one verse, nigga

Neva, eva would you say it again

or I'ma come through one time and spray it again, mothafucka

This party is mines, rhyme for rhyme,

line for line, genuine dime

Break 'em down like Napalm exploadin'

On they block on the drop of a dime, I'ma come through and rock

I serve 'em like rocks non-stop

Shake the whole spot, they lookin' at me like 'What I got?'

Nigga, I'm lookin' at you like 'Nigga, what you got?'

Claimin' that you gon' come through and bust it like Tupac

Homey, that's my nigga- That's my homey

You don't know nothin' about it- Nigga, I doubt it

If you ain't him, then you just a wanna be

Somethin' like, you-can-grab-it like, tryin'-to-be like,

see like, crip like- Nigga, come through, twist like

you from Twin like you ain't, punk

When it comes to rhymes, I can do what I want

Break these niggas down quick from the back to the front

Pull out my pistol- I let it whistle like whistlin'

Homey, then if you 'bout to do it then start pistolin'

If not, nigga, shut the fuck up then

or I'ma come through, nigga, start bustin'!

I got D-A-Z, I got the S-S-

S-N-double O-P, I got the D-

D-P-G to the C-

C. Nigga, you don't understand

what a real is, nigga. Punk. ("Punk, punk...")

[Record being stopped]