Demigodz Freestyle (A Long Rhyme Coming: The 1999 to 2002 Sessions Pt. 1)

[Intro: Celph Titled]
Ayyo, we on the Eddie Ill side of things right about now. This is a Demigodz special presentation. Starring yours truly: Celph Titled the Rubix Cuban, Apathetic, and Louis Logic the Drunken Dragon. And we about to show y'all motherfuckers how the root beers are catapulted all up into your fucking grill

[Verse 1: Celph Titled]
I'm so unbelievably fresh, even God
Has to be convinced I'm in the form of human flesh
I roll with the lions and tigers in camouflage attire
Celph Titled is synonymous with vampires
I scare police like black men in black Timbs
In a black Benz with fat rims holding up MAC-10s
Niggas be like, "Ask him. He know the deal
Supreme intellect. On top of that, his flow is real"
When we ride by, we let the bullets go and hit your place
You'll need as much surgery as Joan River's face
Ask no questions and roll with the punches
Demigodz techniques lethal when the tongues spit
I’ll brew up nightcaps to give emcees, serving
Molotov cocktails and plenty bottles of D.O.M. kerosene
Your style is a joke—correct me if I'm wrong
I'm waiting for the Energizer bunny to walk through your song

[Verse 2: Apathy]
I'll fuck a big, brolic bitch ‘til her nostrils twitch
Have her burying her face like an ostrich
Apathetic always raps on some hostile shit
And if I started doing crimes, all the cops would quit
I could burn your face off with my toxic spit
When I travel, I’ll be walking on gravel and rocks will split
My ox will slit your voice box and shit
‘Til your windpipe is leaking all its oxygen
Try to threaten with a weapon and we'll box you in
And, in a second or less, is when the shots begin
Cock the pen. I'm bringing apocalypse with the pen
And the world recreated, then I'll do it again
What I spit make your frame swell, melting your brain cell
Repel gel rappers with the gats I aim well
Repping where I dwell is like stepping in Hell
I'm as hip hop as 7L rocking Gazelles
Competition is dying. My depth, death-defying
Flow got my chest left with breaths supplying
A backup for rhyming. Not happy ‘til I'm flying
In a fly Lex, driving like my man Seamus Ryan
And I'm out

[Verse 3: Louis Logic]
You better watch
The Puerto Rican being chased by four policemen
On any given weekend with a forty leaking
Corner store Koreans and cops follow the trail
From a stolen bottle of ale ‘cause they want me in jail
I'm part klepto, part barrio, and part ghetto
My highness disguised by my camouflage Ecko
My agenda’s to discover adventures and
Crush in cuarentas ‘cause I'm such an inventor
Disgusting avenger with a sewer mouth and a taste
For chewing out niggas—there ain’t shit that you can do about
So I say, “Lightweights should clear on out
‘Cause it's Friday and I'm filling up my beer bong now”
We’re on-route for success with a pit stop
At the cluckfest to pluck fresh pollo ‘cause I love breasts
And chicks that undress get a round of applause
For stripping out of your drawers and getting down on all fours
I’m a pervert for what the word’s worth
It's Louis fucking Logic looking in a word search
To find sick shit, to use fucking biscuits
And hit you over the head if you talking shit, kid

[Outro: Louis Logic]
Yeah, yeah, get on down. Better, uh, uh, better get on down. Come on, come on, come on, come on!