2013 BET Hip Hop Awards - TDE Cypher

[Intro: Kendrick Lamar]
Cypher
TDE
Schoolboy Q, what's hatnin'?

[Verse 1: ScHoolboy Q]
Most of these niggas shouldn't be next to us
We keep our distance from those, those acting like hoes
Xanny imposed, weed in my clothes, cubics is gold
Your wig'll get told, put the realest niggas
Niggas, product of cap-peelers, gangbangers, and dealers
Streets keep watching—"Oh, ayy..." click, boom
The ghetto bird get shot down, straight to the top now
They want a third strike on my background
But nah, homie, put the mask on when I slide on 'em
Put the cash in the safe, and here's a extra slug 'fore I shake
You smoke faster than me with a eighth
Or better yet, a wet break on a plate
Burning your faith, all your senses covered in tape
Fucking with them boys in blue
Chill out before I send them rags at you
You running to the cops saying, "How we do?"
Saying, "It's just rap, and them lines ain't true"
So I just do Q, fuck it, a ménage à two
Or maybe trois, baby girl need a papa, I be her da-da
Coochie spanking, give praise to Allah
Get blazed in my car, with Oxymoron—Rock

[Verse 2: Jay Rock]
Rock got it, Rock came from rock bottom
Sparked the flames, still remain as a top shotta
I ain't no backpack rapper, I ain't no lyricist
And if we ain't talking to you, mind your business, then
Cold with it, Black Hippy, yeah, we cold niggas
All the girlies love us, get a whiff of us, they bones quiver
Heard some clowns throwing stones at us
Holding boulders, champ
Once you hear that "YAWK," watch the domes shatter
It's Top Dawg, we running rap
Wack rappers feline, reason why we don't run with cats
Nine-double O-five-nine, where my family at
Pull up in that family van, holding tools like the handyman
And to be real, not with all this rapping, politicking
Rapper competition, wrapped up my position
'Til I'm finished, 'til I make a couple tickets, then I'm outty
On them islands with my crimeys, chilling, hide your feelings
Now, can I live?
Look, I gotta keep my feet on top of the dirt
'Cause everywhere I go, they like, "When you dropping some work?"
Been a threat since birth
The rap game's pallbearer when I'm dropping the hearse
I ain't new to this, I'm true to this, industry's nightmare
Red strings in my Nike Airs, yeah, the white pair
I'm Jay Rock, America's most wanted
My charges? Killing emcees without warning
Rock!

[Verse 3: Ab-Soul]
Yeah, it's Ab-Soul, gimme the loot, I'm the skinny Biggie
In New York City with Puffy, puffing the sticky
All odds against me, still even the score
Prolly why I'm always OT, on tour
TDE, believe me, we want war
I don't even know what piece I like most no more
Two fingers, two triggers, what's the difference?
We all gon' die one day, and 'til then, I'm gettin' paid
My grandma watching, so I ain't gon' curse
Still gifted like a Wale verse
Backwood full of OG Bobby Johnson
Medicine in my soda, tryna dodge the coffin, ah
And these days are so bittersweet
I guess it's just a balance, we battle naturally
And y'all still tripping off of JAY-Z tweet
I still got laps to run when me and JAY-Z meet—peep
Soul Brother No. 2
The first one used to make beats for CL Smooth
Top got the S550, but the CL smooth
And rolling weed is the only time I see L's move
Soul!

[Verse 4: Isaiah Rashad]
Look, ayy, I think I found my second home, sunny California
And it's your lil' nigga
"Brother, you ain't meant for corners"—it's what they told me
So I never looked back, I got a shell in the bag
Fat as elephant ass, so we flood in the path
Passing propellers, I tell her, tell her, "We flying, just listen"
See, we diamond, just shining, and they gon' find us just glistening
Brought sand to the beach, and we left with your bitches
For the record in Guinness, I'm a heckling menace
Where's Robin? I'm giving, fucking minding my business
He a regular victim of some regular women, huh
Regular niggas, you always cater to sluts
You always wasting my time, you always faking the funk
I put your motherfucking dreams in your face
And keep looking for some women to be all in your face
That deep dussy, rich nigga, king dussy
That Tennessee dussy make a nigga be dussy
You could never rap better than me
'Cause you ain't dedicated, you ain't underrated
You ain't underlooked, you ain't overbooked, you just undercooked
It's supposed to be me and my niggas in the record book
Now they got me out here by myself, still fresh as fuck

[Verse 5: Kendrick Lamar]
I hate y'all, I'd do anything to replace y'all
Shout-out to Face Mob
A Geto Boy 'til I'm unemployed with a day job
And kicking boxes
I kick ass and then kick knowledge
I'm way more polished than ninety-nine percent of the scholars you thought had graduated
I'm the master that masturbated on your favorite emcee
Until the industry had wanted me assassinated
You either corny or an opportunist
I let you eat, now go back to church and steal crackers at communion
What are we doing? I'm 'bout to crack the da Vinci Code
Yeah, and nothing been the same since they dropped "Control"
And tucked a sensitive rapper back in his pajama clothes
Haha, joke's on you
High-five, {*smack!*}, I'm bulletproof
Your shots'll never penetrate
Pin a tail on the donkey, boy, you been a fake
I got my thumb on hip-hop
And my foot in the back of your ass
Aftermath get the last laugh
I serve niggas like Master Geoffrey, jump on the curb
Turn a shotty to a verb if you let me, you know I'm a killer
I'm on your head, they know I'm a killer
The West Coast Cosa Nostra, under oath 'til it's over
You over-owe us
So what the fuck? I fuck you niggas up, I fuck you niggas up
She suck and fuck, I fuckin' duck you fuck-niggas like when I want
You go at us, you going fucking nuts, acting irrational
Pop you, then pop an Adderall, know the drill like a lateral, nigga
I'm more Pappy Mason than Pastor Mason
Pacing back and forth, racing, my thoughts on them racing Daytons
I spilled blood on my apron cooking this shit up
I feel like some of y'all is hating
Quite frankly, your bitch booty should thank me for grabbing it
Turn these hoodrats to actresses, what a magic trick
Accidents never happen when murder's involved
Immaculate tactics, so follow me, if you need me, just call on me
I say, "Hold up, wait a minute
Your career ain't shit unless you got some Kendrick in it"
You pussies ain't shit, ain't no room is left on my dick
'Less you look like Jordin Spark, make my mark on that clitoris, mwah
Hollywood's been good to me
Lil' hood nigga, used to pawn mom's jewelry
Family jewels big as fuck, and I got the balls to say it
Balls-deep, balling out 'til Spalding need a replacement
I'm outchea, the West in your mouth, chyeah
Invest in the vest of Vietnam vets when you out near
The white court building, spilling its Merlot
Fillin' women, a Virgo pimped the industry
'Member these Stacey Adams and fur-coats
Shook, you're scared to death
You're scared to look in the mirror when Kendrick is near you—
King Kendrick!