Hot 107.9 Freestyle, Pt. 1

Uh, now tell me who it is
K-Dot, young kid runnin' the music biz
You tell me what's worse
Me bein' the best rapper or
Rappers dyin' of thirst?
I'm just like a gun-clapper with these words
And you know I'm packin'
And that word is meant for Janet Jackson
I'm a black hippy, that's what I know
I wear a heart black, I love peace
That's my clothes
And so, and I don't know this name
(Steve Buscemi, he's the actor, man)
Thank you for that ad-lib, G
Next thing you know, I google him up
It might be me
I hope he's rich, I hope he's contra
Band in my pocket, no, I don't have sponsors
Don't want the police to come in this place
Because I might run and I run this race
That's in the rap game
You got some more words, I go absurd
I got nouns, I got more verbs
This is the curb
I swing, my nigs, I flip flows
I come from the West, I do it the best
I don't stress, no contest
Any rapper want to come
See with Rickey Smiley? You can't see me
We creep up back of the alley
And beat they ass and take they cash
And then we stab, off in that Jag
I'm in, uh, celebrity crushes
I give 'em, they see me, I give them blushes
I'm talkin' Halle Berry, Stacey Dash
But she vote for Mitt Romney
No, I don't want that ass
I'm talkin' Obama, I'm talkin' more drama
This another word, your momma
Nah, that's Ebony Steele, that's me, for real
She got them long hairs
But she don't wear high heels
That means she's confident
That means she's beautiful
That mean she got no dirt in the cuticles
That means she got that watch
I mean, she got the shades
Shirley Caesar, left seat, man
After forty years
They'll sweep her in through the city
That's like me, that's like Jay Z
Pac and Biggie that like me
That's like rappers don't know where I'm from
That's Compton, everybody don't want none
I got the people in
The back straight cheerin'
I got the eyes wide open just like
The deers in front of the