OC - Tony Touch Power Cypha 2 Freestyle '97 Text

Songtext zu Tony Touch Power Cypha 2 Freestyle '97

[Verse 1: O.C.]
Yeah, O.C., Phenomenon, I puff mics like Dutches
When in my clutches, go against Phenomenon you rappers go suffer
I breathe life though my [?] like yo' lungs in yo' chest, God bless Big Poppa I wish he wore a vest
Bitch niggas slept on 'em like a snake in the grass, bring that ass to New York, [?] means war
But that's another subject, who figured my skill was suspect? Machete flow all day if this grip by [?]
I miss the Five-Six shots, stepped on the scene [?], I rock mic's and Run shit like I'm [?], Three years off the scene sluggish, slow and Narrow
Still hold presence like a motherfucking Pharoah
D.I.T.C, expertise
Ease back, fuck around, get slapped by my man Joey Crack

[Verse 2: Fat Joe]
So who's the underrated bro, they scared to play on the radio? Who lives the lyrics, who all my real niggas already know
Flow for flow, no crew can step to us, and blow for blow I'm pretty Sure you heard the rumors

I give tumors to niggas who called Mr. Bitches, no one's against us. Row with the riches, I flow with the fishes
The revolutionist started, that's why I'm off to guard it. my squad
Turned to [?]. As hard as they come, they all fall like the Great Wall, Make one mistake, I'll take you straight to the state [?]. [?] is like caps And drugs on us, feds got the [?], tryin' to lay the love on us. They Want us in jail [?], by the mind of dawn, shit, I'll be out by the morn'
Word bond, my game is on lot [?], and this never gonna' stop, till we Cracks the [?], known for I don't know? [?], one time I shot a motherfucking cat
Is that the [?] that you talkin' about?
Next time you walkin' about, make sure you don't open yo' mouth

[Interlude: Fat Joe, Lord Finesse]
What? Diggin' in the Crates
'97, '98 and beyond
Joey Crack, one of those
Uh, no doubt
The God O.C., Lord Finesse, check it out


[Verse 3: Lord Finesse]
Let's drive it from Here to [?], where street [?]. Be the guard number Seven, instant Winner at the casino. Now we know, I'm solid, can't Front? Do the Knowledge, drop logic, addictive like Narcotics. Street Profit, survivor, crazy wiser, make Eighty-Fivers, panic like lady Drivers
The [?] brilliant, my breathe stink like Scallion. What's a Million Man March when I'm one in a million? Rap villain with the bandana, even [?], can't track the God, chillin' like Dan Tana. I'm bananas, the man You facin' anything I dream of, I bring them life like animation. Determination, fuck pretending, when the God start winnin' that's the Signs of the ending, whether drunk or sober, you can't stop a soldier. Undercover New Yorker, just like Malik Yoba. Its ova', I got exposer The next savior to project data like math like chess playas'. Next Mayor Ruler, I got the mind of Martin Luther, like the [?], brace Yourself for a future all out trooper. With the [?] to bomb leaders, I Don't fake jack, just call it like palm readers. The succeeder, that Drives [?], I got the knowledge to [?] like aircrafts. The clear path is The Two Thousand [?], things that I nature, being placed here to rape Us. From [?], so won't understand it, so when you stop [?] marks the End of the planet

[Interlude: Lord Finesse, Big L]

No Doubt, Lord Finesse, Fat Joe, O.C., Show, and A.G., Diamond D, Buckwild, Big L
Where I'm from, Yeah, Tony Touch in the house. Yeah, Big L, Harlem On the rise. 1-3-9. You already know? One love to my nigga McGruff, Mase Murda Mase, Killa Cam, Rest In Peace to my man Bloodshed, Live on baby, the spirit live on. Yeah, BBO in the house, Yeah my man My man [?], alright I'm going to rock this shit, check it out

[Verse 4: Big L]
Yo, I be the smooth cat you never seen rolling with clowns, one of the Few uptown that's holdin' it down. Bitches be on me like I'm Welfare, Even rich ones that live in Bel Air, "is this big L?" Yeah, hell Yeah. Word Up I use a chrome gat to push domes back, watch how you talk to me When you call me, feds got my phone tapped. This rap game, I put My life in it, chain got mega ice in it, [?] infinite, chrome rims light Tinted. And you can see pal, its all about me now, Twenty G's a show [?], just to freestyle. [?] it grows on trees, can you hold on something? Sure You can hold on these. Yo, I'm phat like a old crayon smooth as Rayon, L is who the ladies stay on, baby play on. I staged [?], pockets Swelled up from banks I held up, plenty bitch ass niggas Big L stuck. I Never catch cold feet when I hold heat, we roll deep in a triple black [?]. I catch a fag at three O'clock in the morn', on a block all alone, I Put a Glock through his dome. Tell him to give it up nitwit, don't try To get slick or i'mma let this [?] and leave your shit split. Prick there Ain't' nothin' decent about me, a true thug for real you can ask the [?] About me. A rap junky, don't try to play me like some funky, jewels be Junky, pockets lumpy, attitude grumpy. And mad niggas be frontin' a Lot poppin' mad shit, acting like they somethin' they not
Your faggot ass better stick to dancing
Don't even look at me, I might break yo' Jaw just for glancin'. I'm sick like [?], and Nine-Seven Harlem kids is Blowin' and we don't trip, we'll let a bitch starve till' her ribs are Showin'


[Interlude: Sample, A.G.]
(Now you step to A.G. and get yo' ass kicked)
That's right
(Now you step to A.G. and get yo' ass kicked)
(Now you step to A.G. and get yo' ass kicked)
[?]
(Now you step to A.G. and get yo' ass kicked)

[Verse 5: A.G.]
Put us together and that's danger, so don't mess with it, niggas copy The pattern so the best part, you'll never get, D.I.T.C, strong on some Extra shit claiming our spot in Bronx right next to [?]. Now we Original, from the lords to the gangstas, from the righteous, to the Criminals, they thank us. Rank us, top C so just imagine how we have Em', indeed spot fatigue, but not for fasion. In God's name, I grab mics and create flames, and [?] shit, leave them in amazement with Basics. Face it I'm the dopest in here, checking for the second baddest bitch because the first is who I came with. [?] so Tony Touch, played it Again, we got em' leanin', like some D that's rated a 10. You sport the ice, and rock the rolly, I done that, but here's a jewel a nigga once told me, "Run that". It's real feeling steel right up your back listen closely, now I hold gats for shit like that. One the rise to the top, they want to take what we got, but [?] is the master plan, so let's plot. Nigga front like my shit ain't hot, I go bananas similar to scanners on Some [?] shit

[Interlude: Diamond D]
No doubt, D.I.T.C., Universal never local, (Yeah, Uh) (Wha, Wha, Wha)
D.I.A.M.O.N.D. representing for my Tony Touch. (Wha, Wha, Wha)


[Verse 6: Diamond D]
Clocking everything in my sight to heart's content, pushing [?], your Convertible Benz, Shit I was meant to be a prince, in a black man's Wish with deep tints, fuck the game bring the pretense. I'm tired of Motherfuckers with half assed clouts your past route assed out layin' Passed out in a gutter, with the ice cutters Five-Eleven, with the Butters, them faggot asses can't [?] us. My game is sharp as a spear, Giving gold diggers hearts when they [?], I lay them on they back, like That, and plot with a beer. My [?] are swollen, German made Glocks, I'm folding, shit I can retire now from the stocks I'm holdin'. treasury Bills, laid up in Beverly Hills, in a Porche, tellin' my daughter she Better be still. I'm [?] I dropped out of [?] and I [?] when niggas boast Close. You small time, budget in yo' pocket change, while I rock [?] Watchin' the [?] change

Clocking everything in my sight to heart's content, pushing [?], your Convertible Benz, shit I was meant
Clocking everything in my sight to heart's content, pushing [?], your Convertible Benz, shit I was meant to be a prince in a black man's Wish with deep tints fuck the game bring the pretense (pretense)
Clocking everything in my sight to heart's content, pushing [?], your Convertible Benz, shit I want meant to be a prince in a black man's Wish with deep tints, fuck the game bring the pretense

Shit I was meant to be a prince in a black man's wish with deep tints, I Orchestrate orgies without cheap hints. In life, I want the finer things [?], and designer rings maxed out from the [?] my [?] brings leaves me More [?] cryin' broke [?] screaming in my celly in the GS for a Hundred. [?] then a headrest wouldn't think I was [?] if only I said Less? In first Class I head west the [?] for a minute when I [?] screaming [?] in my Face. I stay laced up trees from [?] and [?] cased up. If you're Swerving in yo' ride turn the bass up, and I like getting brains layin' face up. So what's the deal? Do what you feel, my mass appeal is real, word life

OC - Tony Touch Power Cypha 2 Freestyle '97 Songtext

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