Flip Philips & Chan from Japan

[Intro: Flip Philips and C-Rayz Walz]
[Flip Philips]
So I’m gonna take that from you. So, 87.9 FM, WBAR, Barnard College Radio. Umm, formerly Triad Radio. Now it’s, uh, Flip Philips and Chan from Japan. Shout out to [?]. Shout out to T-Ruckus coming up next work. Shout out to End of the Weak. MCs that are coming through next week as well. I want to, um, introduce, um, C-Rayz Walz and 4th Pyramid. 4th Pyramid. And we going to C-Rayz Walz who has no shoes on. C-Rayz, you crazy, dog. Where I could a C-Rayz Walz t-shirt?
[C-Rayz Walz]
Y’all have never seen or [?]. I’m with my man 4th Pyramid (4th Pyramid on the cut). We about to bring you our A-game and freeze this room. You know what I’m saying? So, yo, we’ve just been wiling with these headphones and shit. [?]. This beat...

[Verse 1: C-Rayz Walz]
Oh, high and dumb
Don’t slip, but think about blasting off
I wash my balls with your facewash cloth
I’m dirty, grimy, been in the studio all week
Reminding myself I’ve got to write this song to match the beat
I forget to brush my teeth
If you look at me smile, you could see a spinach leaf
I’ll kick your cat, piss on your lawn
Slap the shit out your dog and bite your moms
Beginning at your pops’ foot
They come outside like I just took their pocketbook
In my underwear with my penis hanging out
Drinking the Guinness stout, ready to get punched in my mouth
The police is too shook—they’ll never knock me out of my spot
It’s like Nelly to KRS—watch
These rhymes come out to clock
I’m a good Ken Sport. The DJ is [?]
Flip off this click clack, big Benjamin Banneker watch
Hit you with the time and the shine like shots
Bursting nine life with the jigabytes and watch—I’m dirty
Digging out my butt and give you a pound like
“Yo, you trying to tell me that I’m nice?”
Plus I’m sarcastic when I’m telling the truth
Ayyo, we two pairs of baddies coming to you

[Verse 2: 4th Pyramid]
Ayyo, I’m like the homeless bastard
Known to overthrow, knowing disasters
Chrome to plaster. Smack you in the face for no reason
Flow beating. See me, man? I live in no seasons
The sun, the moon, the star, the tune
The man that’ll go to the bar and get drunk
High and dumb like I was not able to home, trying to run
You on the fry. Try and find wealth from the T Dot, the weed spot
See me in my underwear and Reeboks
Doing absolutely nothing
But rapping

[Verse 3: C-Rayz Walz and 4th Pyramid]
A glutton eating over and over again
I want my sandwich bigger than my pen
And if the mic is cracking, I’m trying to sell you that
Go to the GNC and see what’s cracking
Tell the titans who clashing
And watch me sell ‘em rap. I’m open
Food-mashing, brood-bashing
Your bar. Asking a star
To buy a CD. See me at double-D 19
Rhyme fiend. Oh, my mind’s green
In front of Fat Beats, she’s like, “Yo, your flow’s fire. Thanks”
I’m say, “Ma, I don’t deal with chicks who eat Papaya Frank’s”
Papaya Frank’s? I’m, like, higher ranked
Wanna come down and see me? Believe me
I come out of bottles and smoke like the genie
Going outside, hitting the bong
Piss in your dog face just ‘cause you my next-door neighbor
Me and my girl ain’t getting along
We’re getting along
I got you girl on her four knees, licking her thong
‘Cause I’m disgusting filth
Trust in MILF? Me never
Non-dairy, non-hairy
On the highway, leaving the block, driving like something’s killed
Y’all softer than shy guys with a sunken suit
You need to be something built
In a tank of asbestos with a humping quilt
Oh, man
But I’m not the Scottish
Pyramid man the moon to rock ish
Like, “Oh my Lord, who got the hot ish?” It’s
Ken Sport. Coming through, my pen short
It’s not for long
Known to snuff a cop
Piss in his pocket, snuffing him in his chin and
Show him the Glock like, “What, bitch? You owe me reparations”
Put 41 through your back for fronting. I’m dirty
Dirty. Never fuck a chick with herpes
You heard me?
Pyramid spitting on Mars absurdly
Got them looking back at me like, “Yo, you heard me?”
You heard he? I’m like, “Word, G”
I still try to kiss your moms even though she got herpes
I’m tougher than your whole family. Your whole generation pussy
And none of y’all could hurt me or herb me
Herb meat, you wanna come try and smack me, attack rapidly?
Art of war. What is it we argue for?
I rock at war
Of course I’m coming through without a [?]
You heard me? I hope it’s that B Real ‘cause these Cypress Hills
Of skills that’ll make me have to get blunted off krills
Before you finally admit you heard C
“Insane in the Brain,” playing with membranes in my mind
So I make sure that you turn back your twine and intertwine
Weave and wind, see the mind
See, this is why I’m about to eat that shit
Stop looking at my dick unless you ready to be the dick
With the rug, man, I will cock-slap you
Rock, rap to, got to ask you
Get off me, police officer. I will piss in your mother’s coffee
Yo, I will put my dick in your tea
On some tai chi shit
Oh my Lord, high beam me, see me spit
“Angel and The Preacher”
15 G’s on the CD—that’s what I wrote