Free download
OZ underground hiphop
Cortex and tyme Werkz
this is Tyme, so i guess im speakin for both of us at the moment.
Song Info
Genre
Charts
Peak #1,828
Peak in subgenre #1,030
Author
Words by Cortex and Tyme Werkz, Music from DMX
Uploaded
May 31, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Lyrics
CORTEX
Urban gay.k.a., you say you’re the king of the south/
Your just a hillbilly who can’t rap coz you’ve got your cousin’s dick in your mouth/
A hick and nothing more, I’ll rip your flesh until its red raw/
100% nigga, rhymes 100% poor/
South Memphis to prove you’re a fake there’s to great clues/
You probably cruise the ghetto with your gat and your blue suede shoes/
Your rhyme is verbal crime, refine it or else your mine/
Kick a freestyle dissing me and don’t rehearse this time/
Your curse words are in abundance/
In fist or battle I got more stamina than 500 Olympic runners /
Your a gangsta, you’ve never commited a sin in your life/
You spend most of it beefing on a fucking internet site/
Give me a catscan you’re eyeing the mind of a pioneer/
On your mixtapes, your flow sounds sloppy like diarrhoea/
Coz I’ll shit on you a.k.a/
Could verbally let the AK spray, or nail your ass up like the KKK/
Young Starr, I Will Murk You, you’ve got so many names that/
You’d forget the hook if you were remixing My Name Is/
Scared when 7 ate 9, that’s whack/
I’ve got 10 times the talent you’ll ever have, spitting any rap/
Collaborating on any track, with anybody I please/
Just as long as their real emcees, and not mic G’s/
From Tyme Werkz to Enigman, Triple 6 to Salty/
But no bitch ass mobb cats who’s lack of talent revolts me/
Capital P won’t battle me, look at this guy/
He deserves a Capital P-U-S-S and Y/
And Red Iye, he won’t battle me either/
Fat motherfucker’s too busy watching TV and eating pizza/
And finally Nautical, that No Respect diss was a shit verse/
I’d rape your dad with a crowbar his ass would get ripped worse/
So all of the bitches dissed here I want you to give a spitten response/
And Cap, go clip your eyebrows at once, motherfuckers//
TYME WERKZ
Man I don’t have beef, but don’t try to tempt me/
Syllables sick like I’m reppin’ with six the way that I envy/
Check the word play man, radiation placing a brain tumour/
Like Murder Inc. warpath, this shit’s lame rumours/
But Cortex, will flick you off/
Can’t fuck with this, like your dicks were soft/
M.O.B., what’s up gangstas, don’t speak on the dons/
They might monopolise the internet and sleep on your songs/
Capital P, you bust so many caps I respect you/
Don’t fuck with him man, end up in M.O.B. cement boots/
And Red Iye, well he needs respect to/
He also needs liposuction, diet, and less food/
It’s played but true, these gays will lose/
If they get choosed, you may as well claim peace now and raise the 2’s/
I’ll blaze you fools, and raise your reps/
Like laser surgery, Time Works copied my name, got a case for blatant purgery/
Mistaken if you thought I didn’t think I didn’t realise games/
The only way you could gain respect was to steal Tyme’s name/
Red dots and crosses your rhymes are poor and pathetic/
Leave your head spinning more than Konetic/
No skill from downunder, bullshit man our flows dispense you/
How the fuck can your energy be kinetic you haven’t got no potential/
Shut your fucking mouth man and face up to S.O.N.,
I wish that slut that made you never took her place as your mum/
Face it your done faggot, now this’ll surprise you/
The whole of my old crew, fuck it you can die too/
You’re gunna realise soon, you need to respect me/
Gunna diss T.W. with your T-E-X-T/
This song will leave your whole world more than slightly shook/
Emcees without a voice should write a book/
So that goes out to you all I’m quitting the crew/
Spit in your food, this is the beginning of fued//
