The Last Word

This is a story, but not really a story
It's just some freestyle shit
My name is Rah Digga, and this here is the Outsidaz
My niggas, tell 'em

Since I been on television, girls been beggin' me to swell the kitten
Black or white, when the lights go off, I can't tell the difference
Thought you'd impress me? Well, ya didn't
I got mad freestyles and hella written, the hottest fella' spittin'
Never quittin', spittin' more outs than eleven innin's
Cheddar-spendin', Slang Ton forever shittin', you betta' listen

Hell yeah, I tell a chicken: Zee hurtin' skeeza's
Fuck you with the strength of, like, thirty Hercules-es
I want the cash, nigga, fuck them scabs (scabs)
Stab once or twice, then the pussy up for grabs (ah)
Puff the hash in front o' your mother's dad, cut a fag
And put your brother's ass in a duffle bag
Yeah, y'all fall in love wit' that, outsidaz comin'
Leave y'all drunk like Olde English 800
(Oh) pacewon, the fire-breathin' rah-rah dragon in the dungeon
American werewolf from the bricks, fuck London

(Nah, nah) set it off for my 'heads in Jers'
(Nah-nah, nah) swear to God, weak rappers done struck my last nerve
(Nah, nah) on wit' the swerve, mad bags o' herb
(Nah-nah, nah) my Outsida' click gon' get the last word

Our attitude is like a bad sitcom: Nuttin' funny
Slap you like you stole somethin' from me
Yo, we got raps by the page like Bill Gates got money
First week out, we top twenty, grungy
Dummy Young Zee, come get your mouth injured
Diss us, watch us pop wheelies without ninjas
Run your shit wit ya for the brick city niggas
Shittin' on ya like kitty litter
You could do fifty sit-ups, and I don't give a fuck if he bigger
I throw a right hook that could drop any nigga
Y'all rock jewels that's truck like Chevy pickups (twista)
All I want is money and my dick sucked

(Nah, nah) set it off for my 'heads in Jers'
(Nah-nah, nah, nah) swear to God, weak rappers done struck my last nerve
(Nah, nah) on wit' the swerve, mad bags o' herb
(Nah-nah, nah, nah) my Outsida' click gon' get the last word

Az-izz got bad nerves, rank matters
While you serve steak platters, I'ma die ballin', like Hank Gathers
Axe get the dough, like cake batter
Pockets stay fatter, the way you rhyme makes me think that you the gay rapper

Face-slapper, like Roy Jones, I throw a bolo
Break your team up like Chris Schwartz and Joe Niccolo
Rippin' a beige Volvo, bumpin' a slang promo
We sign our autographs, spell it out like K-solo
The Outz' straight to disc, too hot for tape or phono'
Takin photos wit' the black and gray polos
Ruin niggas' lives like they K-Ci or JoJo
Outsidaz takin' a loss? That's a no-no

(Nah, nah) set it off for my 'heads in Jers' (Jers')
(Nah, nah, nah) swear to God, weak rappers done struck my last nerve (you done struck my last nerve)
(Nah, nah) on wit' the swerve, mad bags o' herb (yeah, yeah)
(Nah, nah, nah) my Outsida' click gon' get the last word

(Nah, nah) set it off for my 'heads in Jers' (jers')
(Nah-nah, nah, nah) swear to God, weak rappers done struck my last nerve (ain't nobody fuck wit' this bitch)
(Nah, nah) on wit' the swerve, mad bags o' herb (yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Nah-nah, nah, nah) my Outsida' click gon' get the last word

Yo, what up? It's Rob Mars, newest member of the Flip Mode Squad