J. Sands and Rascalz Freestyle (The Time Has Come!)

[Intro: J. Sands (of Lone Catalysts)]
Eddie Ill, D.L. Uh, Lone Cat, what? Uh, uh, yo

[Verse 1: J. Sands (of Lone Catalysts)]
The Lone Catalysts, J. Sands, mic vandal
My partner’s name is Rawls, but his wifey call him Daniel
Composed a manual for the ‘99th annual
Dollar event before they blow out the candles
For 2G’s ‘cause, after that, we’ll be too much to handle
Deeper than Randy Moss waiting on the bomb from Randall
In rhyme combats, I’ll usually kick a long rap
Flawless, quick to demolish any emcee without knowledge
Of self like yourself. Consider this to be felt
Below the belt like chickens giving brain. Insane
How I can tame so many rhymes in one frame
Infinite digging [?] position
Life is what I’m living and living’s full of decisions
Decisions require vision and vision is what I’m giving
The first edition: the hip hop Jordan and Pippen
The hardest man working—especially when I’m flipping
Study the scrolls and manuscripts like Egyptians
Learned the rules to the rap game and slid my chips in
Put it on the professional child from the
Pennsylvanial who make the ladies say, “Ow”
And all the fellows say, “Ho,” at the Lone Cat show
Near you once the mic’s plugged in the one, two
Then it’s official, so blow the whistle on the cat
Faking jacks, talking ‘bout he got diamond crystals
And bust pistols. You’ll get thumbs down like Siskel
For the whole fiscal year—it’s clear
That your worst enemy is fear or the end of your
Career, which is next as I proceed to flex
It’s not a secret that my words have been the best-kept
It’s Lone-to-the-Cata... kid, you know the rest

[Interlude 1: Misfit (of Rascalz)]
What? Van City live, baby. Check this one out here

[Verse 2: Misfit (of Rascalz)]
Ayyo, we sizzling hot tracks. I’m riddling, the villain in
The cut, slicing it up with lyrics I touch
Fisticuffs, we could take it to that. In fact, no matter
The weight class, I’ll step up to the task
And trail hard, calmly waiting for my time to explode
Unload when I get the chance to dance with the so-called folk
The thoroughbred set the pace, endurance with the race
Look behind. Suckers give chase, they ain’t catching a great
I’ll state it like it is, show you where my head at
Lay a brother flat with the roundkick or the rap
On some tracks for black wax now platinum plaques
Mixtape DJs [?] ‘cross the map
‘Cause, in the ring or on stage, that’s my bidness
And what? I do my thing and never show beats forgiveness
Talent to win this, heading for the Book of Guinness
While you sipping, I’ll be written as stupendous
It’s like that. You know we don’t quit
The dreaded fist brothers in the house. I’ll be the Misfit
Doing this, representing Van City from the
Heart, y’all. And, what? We don’t stop. It’s like
That, y’all. You know we don’t quit. The man
Misfit giving you the ultimate
It’s like that, y’all. You know we rock the ish
From the top of the dome when we come to spit that shhh...

[Verse 3: Red 1 (of Rascalz)]
Ayyo, Mr. Red 1. Let me call me Mr. Red 1, yo
This song locked from the bottom to the top, we
Pick up the mic and rock, hit ‘em up with styles nonstop
While the Sun get blocked when D.L. tape drop, and represent
All elements relevant to hip hop
[?] dreadlocks
In your sector, selector turn it up one notch and let me
Squeeze off these, off these emcees on the nuts
I’ll roll with the Rascal generals who don’t give a fuck
Hands high, identify, rush that guy
While you gon’ talk shit ‘cause we do what you try
Yo, I’m bottomless with mine and relentless with rhyme
In control and we on patrol, hold down the borderline
You nah’m saying?

[Outro: Red 1 (of Rascalz)]
Word up. My man D.L. putting it down. Word up, figure-four. Rascalz’ new album coming at y’all soon. Uh. [?]. What? Peace