Guilty Simpson, Big Proof, J-Hill (Freestyle) E

Shout out Guilty Simpson, J Hill. Yeah, extended fam. Extended family, that's who. Come on. Say the fucking You and the Pyrex. Me? I'm Guilty Simpson, nigga. Guilty Simpson. Coming with a new style for you Motherfuckers with mics. Check it. Watch. Check your chain, affect your brain till your neck Is sprained. Really I'm the next to reign. Deleter frame, select my chains when I X your Game. Quickly redirect the game. Reject my flame, molest your dame. Get sex and brain no matter what set you Claim. I bless from rains in quest of Maine. I test my aim with a loaded TEC with Flames. My texture's grain is tough terrain. Respect the name before you hit the deck and Drain. Protect your mane or wet his lane. It's next for lames, string him by the neck And hang. Inject my fangs and test your veins, Infest the sane. But truly I ain't pressed for Fame. Caress my thang and press it, Bang. Best won't sustain, that's how the wilderness Was tamed. Feeling the Mike Tyson in tights writing The price like a Viking in Vikes when lightning Strikes. Crazy like disliking your life. Stab you with pipe with a knife, spilling your Blood type on your wife. A lunatic convict with rankings and stripes fighting With Vikes, chasing Michael Knight on a bike. Since you wacker than fight for the mic, I Snipe at your life and then I run Greg Knight for his ice. Give me that. Throwing Bibles at dykes. Pay what you fight for the price to hit Barbers strikes down with pipe. Loading the rifle with rights, igniting twice. Pow, pow. Rocking just right in the night. A disciple to strife against the light with the Bike. Knock you unconscious when I right hook your Lights. I'm a blind Viking in spikes, plighting for Sight. Holding down my wrist and then I'm slicing It thrice. You bitch thugs, I'm calling you niggas Joan of Arc. Napoleon guns, bullets that rip your Bone apart. I spit slugs in the night just So the chrome'll spark, and put niggas to canvas Like drawing black art. You mean mug when I rip like it's a Nasty bar. It's just my flow is the shit If you stinking up the spot. I eat MCs for dinner whether they raw or Not. Don't blame your man for the murder, he Never saw the Glock. I crept up from behind, he never heard it Pop. He didn't freeze so they chalked him up On a murder spot. My people skirr and carry Heaters, so don't deceive us. Street sweepers and two-way beepers are hustle Reapers. You take hearts and give them back, who Play for keepers? They won't bang till the morning With Kathy Lee and Regis. I really shouldn't have to go through all those Procedures. Crew joint, Guilty, Hill feature