Furiously Dangerous

We're so furiously dangerous

(Ludacris)

Death by lyrical injection

I kill you rappers

A lot of green with a yellow complexion

Women call me the Green Bay packer

I pack the zero's

Meaning mucho deniro

So paid, rappers is waitin' on trades and they all get Knicked like Melo

Hello, LUDA!

Tell theses other boys double up

'Cause I got some work all on my waist but I call it a tummy tuck

My every records jumpin', or playin' double dutch

I shit on rappers every verse just got the bubble guts

(Joe Budden)

Let me tell this to the people not understandin' my moxy

Animal, watch me

If you think it's tangible, stop me

But then I hit 'em with a flow, that they can't even copy

See, we don't play that

Where I'm from it's like fantasy hockey

Sup with the dog, thugs want a war

Bad GM, what you want to trade slugs with him for?

While you cuffin 'em all, I'm stuffin the drawer

Then leave em for you to rebound Kevin Love on the boards

Dog, you and your skill are far apart from of our squad

I put you on a crash course in a smart car

Always speeding not relying on the brake pad

In a car you should only drive on the race track

So the lines bout your feelings and the Maybach

Are ghost tails about the Phantoms, face facts

You ruin hip hop, slaughterhouse the payback

In the shape of a tatt, you done faded to black

GO...

(Royce da 5'9)

I went from eating Top Ramen to being top rhymer

Check full of commas

No regrets except for the drama

I remember a time when my only perfection was my momma

My mind on my long erection

Now it's time ya bow down to the rectum monu-

Ment in my honor cause bitch I'm bonker, plural

In a whip with my Ivanka, pompous girls

She on E, feeling on me, singing on key

While I'm bumping We Are The World

Got her sniffin Britney, no he didn't did he

"We run this town"

No we int diddy

I feel like tintin the glass,

You take a sip with me

She from the city of Jackson

I call her Mississippi, that was pretty witty

Ya man like a black man tryna get re-elected

He aint get it, did he?

(Joell Ortiz)

Sticking it to the pedal

Pedal to the floor

Just whippin' it through the ghetto

Metal in the door, case I gotta throw some lead into ya, boy

Referee mind state, I'm settling the score

I don't know what ya'll hating for

Wait, wait, know what, matter fact

I don't know what you're waiting for

I aint finna say nothing, turn the bass up more til the speakers pop

I get a kick outta that, like a sneakers spot

See I was a little kid with his thumbs in his ears

And his tongue in the air going na-na-na-nah-naaar

Just when you think it stop na-na-na-nah-naaar

Everything I speak is hot

But bont be mad at least everything you speak is...

I can't think of nothing nice to say, you're not nice okay

(Crooked I)

Rapper, hustler, entrepreneur

My shit fly like I'm launching manure

Lord of the underground, God of the sewer

On Hennessy black, on con to the jure

Yeah I'm off the block

This aint work, homie, I'm off the clock

I'm a syllable, Hannibal, killer cannibal

With a mechanical mandible to deliver the flammable

Ammo, lyrical animal off the top

Rep that West till I walk with Pac

We the 2.0 Boys, Tiz, Crooked, Joe, Royce

New ghost Rolls Royce, pulled off the lot

Cock me, the only way you can stop me

I'm top seed, I pop green at mach speed

So watch me, if you haven't seen the phenomenon

I spit fast as Lamborghini's in Ramadan