Shabaam Sahdeeq, Sick Lyrical Damager, and Ran Reed Freestyle (Scenes of the Underworld)

[Intro: Shabaam Sahdeeq]
Yeah, yeah. Uh. Eddie Ill, D.L. Uh huh. Yo. We got Mr. Sahdeeq up in this motherfucker. We got SDL up in this motherfucker. We got Ran Reed up in this motherfucker. Word. Yo

[Verse 1: Shabaam Sahdeeq]
For the record, I just grab the mic and I check it
Something unexpected for the ones that been dozing
Leaving you open like a gash. Nigga, peep my style
I rip shit foul. You ain’t saying nothing I’m fearing
BK to BX, BX to NJ
Music to my ear like Tino cuente, ¿comprende?
Spit verbs for my gente. Don’t get it confused
You lose fucking with those that don’t care
Put your ears to the concrete, feel the buzz on the street
The elite in my fleet taking dimes to the hole
You ask, “Who got soul?” Double Dollar Sign, bro
Accurate flow keeping you on your toes
You know, for sho

[Verse 2: Sick Lyrical Damager]
Yeah, yeah, SLD
Making mills, here we go on the one, two, three
I got skills that’s unbelievable, intriguing you
Like a quarterback throw balls to running backs, I’m receiving you
Then leaving you with a touchdown ‘cause what I touch now
Is mics, while you touch blunts, getting high as kites
But that’s alright ‘cause, in my cyph, to each his own
I’m in a zone like the three digits before the seven on your telephone
Got a better tone than a sax, so just relax
Made your wife leave your home. You think she’s coming back? None of that
Now you’re all alone like that kid, so then he hid
I took your light without taking your life and death—that’s what this nigga did
Injuries for centuries leaving symphonies
With enemies and twenty G’s. You’ll swear to God, “I’m flipping keys”
Nigga, please. Don’t even breathe this free
"And don't be fooled by my baby face"—quoted from Little C
Can you feel the breeze from the wind ‘cause I’m above your rim?
With a pen, writing ‘cause I’m high, making millions
For real

[Interlude 1: Ran Reed]
Yeah, Ran Reed. Representing Jersey, what? Uh, yo

[Verse 3: Ran Reed]
Who said I lost it? Niggas must be talking out their asscrack
I’m known for getting deep in thoughts like a flashback
Ran Reed’ll guarantee your cash back if you ain’t feeling this
Since ’86, I’ve been ill in this
Holding down fort like Michael Jordan when he’s on the court
That’s why your girl’s giving me support
I fill players up with hatred. Hot is how I make shit
Mind-boggling, head-trembling, mental-earthquake shit
If you want it, I supply that
Try to imitate the flow, I wouldn’t try that
Penalty’s a ban—get your tongue cut
We’ll castrate your ass, leave you left with one nut
Trying to son what? But, son, who? Man, your one, two
Ain’t no match for mine, so relax, recline
Play the back this time while I play the forefront
I’m known for calming nerves like a raw blunt
Take this to your head, what?

[Interlude 2: Shabaam Sahdeeq and Ran Reed]
Shabaam Sahdeeq: Uh. To you head, what?
Ran Reed: Uh. F.O.D
Shabaam Sahdeeq: To you head, what?
Ran Reed: Nick Wiz

[Verse 4: Shabaam Sahdeeq]
I got it locked like first-floor gates on fire escapes
You could mix this on your tapes, pass hoes, catch vapes
Run right up in my face in a public place
Invading my space. Even though she late, she never let me get
A taste before. Now she offering a full course
Her ass is soft, got on low, so now it’s on
I did it like the pros do, used the Pro Tool
I’m no fool, wanted to hit it since high school
But anyway, emcees are wack like flat soufflés
Get blown away like toupees on windy Tuesdays
My rhyme’s tight like three size small, choking my balls
Bumping beats in your hall, waking up all y’all
But back to that trick. She could get a grip on my dick
Trip on her clit, boning mad rappers and shit
Clapping their shit, make it so they can’t even piss
I got the word from my man ‘Bus she’s a trife bitch
Glad, I’ll strap my vein for rugged terrain
Bugging my brain, thugging insane. Fuck the fame

[Verse 5: Sick Lyrical Damager]
No doubt. Here we go once again
SLD verbally representing
Yo, when I start this, don’t speak. You’re limited like my Jeep
Your ass is so trash that you’ll get picked twice a week
‘Cause what I’m pitching is soon to make me rich and higher
Can’t stand the heat? Then get that ass out the fire
I’ll burn you and, like those tables, I’ma turn you
Now who’s opposing? My shit is hot, yours is frozen
I’m itching. I drop more shit than a bird
With a stomach virus who gave it to a whole flock of pigeons
I drop grammar on green like David Banner
I’m ready to ‘cause, when I fucking change, I’m incredible
I’m telling you, “For me to lose a battle, it’s a miracle”
I’m lyrical. That’s like a dead nigga fucking hearing you
It won’t happen. I’m getting dumber with the drummer
I’m like the DMV—you want to see me? Take a number
I’m getting richer ‘cause every verse is a scripture
And blew you out the frame. Fucking with me, you won’t take the picture
‘Cause I’m a terror. I drop in any weather
I’ll battle emcees in any time and any era
Whatever. It really doesn’t matter ‘cause I had e-
-nough of emcees climbing the charts without a ladder
So start stepping. I’ll grab the mic just like a weapon
‘Cause we battle winner-first. With any verse, I’ll end your career in a second
For real, I write rhymes to make mills
And with these million-dollar skills, I want those million-dollar deal
Investment. No doubt. Shabaam Sahdeeq
SLD, Boogie Down flavor, baby
Word life

[Interlude 3: Ran Reed]
Yeah. Coming to you one more time for your motherfucking mind. Check it

[Verse 6: Ran Reed]
Ayyo, powers I possess’ll make your shorty undress
At my crib on the low, getting naughty and fresh
Doing things you only dreamed of her doing. I’m that nigga
She was screwing in your nightmares. The same cat
Who drunk all your Miller Lite beers, the six pack
You had waiting in your freezer. Left your toilet seat
Up out of spite just to tease ya. Ran Reed got that hot
Shit that’ll please ya, hit you so hard
You just might catch amnesia. Made your skull fracture
Crept up unexpected. Wasn’t looking, so I smacked ya
Make room. My debut I’m ‘bout to break soon
Ran Reed on Jay Leno up next, so stay tuned
Power moves—no doubt, I’m ‘bout to take that
And if you got a title, look out ‘cause I’ma make that
Making power moves with my trusty pal
Get the plaques and the stacks—it’s a must, we shall
Shabaam Sahdeeq

[Outro: Shabaam Sahdeeq and (Sick Lyrical Damager)]
Sinister V’s. Yeah, Ran Reed. Uh, SLD (No doubt). Yeah, yeah (Uh). Eddie Ill (Eddie Ills, y’all), D.L. Y’all know how we do. Might Mi. Yeah, yeah