How Many Emcees Freestyle

[Verse 1: Chris Rivers]
I be the Latin Em, Latin Biggie, Pac and Nas flow
I drop gold I drop a hater comin' like Camacho
I got those, kamikaze hobbies ‘fore my eye close
Hopscotch over obstacles to get the cheese that’s not yours
It’s mental, every average rapper bars are cancelled
Always toss my arms to the stars and grab a handful
Been through a lot of shit that you niggas don’t know or handle
Sneaking into Costcos and filling up on the samples
Hungry never try to question my appetite
The homie get the shoulder til I rap and they act polite
A lot of the other rappers are at best at only half as nice
Can’t afford the alphabet no plan B I had to write
[?], the doper [?]
Got cold, don’t own a heater
Got clothes, holes in sneakers
Got home, smoke some reefer
Got foes, [?] heaters
Got songs, blow the speakers
If I want the Grammy, sell it for the goal like FIFA
Mind tricks the body, body thinks the mind’s crazy
Worst to the daddy daddy, makes the time wavy
Time’s a fine line, but it’s my time baby
So if you ain’t a dime you couldn’t clown me if you paid me
It’s the park spitter that stomps niggas like mosh pitters
Hit your heart with the shit that label me a hard hitter
How many Emcees can stand against Chris
Well let me see, I'mma break it on some Einstein shit
Look E equals MC²
And I’m E times infinity so MC's scards
Tryna make some M so you nigga see me there
And I’m E everyday energy beast when I beat these snares, nigga
Rivers

[Interlude]
How many Emcee must get dissed
Buckshot brrp
I'm solo

[Verse 2: Termanology]
Uh, It's been a long time comin'
Used to fill up them duffle backs full of onions
Before I was most wanted I pitch from a cold corners
So long to turn summer just keepin it 100
Damn!, 365 gettin' high, Spanish right chicken thighs
Mom's barely gettin' by, all of you cats gettin' fly
You can eat shit and die, all my goons specialized in Rob-a-Fella enterprise
Damn, we got the grease and bean g's
And seein' cheese from movin' pees
And being ease, my bitch V enemies, and concrete always clean
Pocket full of green she wacker wackin' the mean
You gotta deuce baby that's a 2 dollar bill
And he prolly headin' where them put in pop hills
My chick flawless for real yours be runnin' train
The whole team hit her like we jumped her in a gang
Choppin' up the whole thang I'm talkin' about cocaine
It's guarantee to changes the color on you nose ring
Raw, I'mma give it to ya with no trivia roll out like cocaine
Straight from Bolivia
Listen Papo
I make moves like El Chapo
Wrap up the whole pack and put the fish in her taco
I hit my man like "yo homie you got that gwap, tho?"
He said, "I moved the whole pack." Come through, I said, [?]

[Outro]
Give the fiends what they want
Don't front I got you open
Hurricane T, flood the block, legendary [?]
Chris what up
[?]