DISS TRACKS THREAD

[Mi mi]

Nas - Ether

What's up niggas, hey yo, I know you ain't talking 'bout me dog
You, what?
("Fuk Jay-Z")
You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga
("Fuk Jay-Z")
Fuk with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
Brace yourself for the main event
Y'all impatiently waiting
It's like an AIDS test, what's the results?
Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big
Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy
I embrace y'all with napalm
Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone
How could Nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at your cartilage
Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne
I got this, locked since '9-1
I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced
Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music
Check it
Fuk with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
Hey yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt)
Hey, y'all fagots, y'all kneel and kiss the fukin' ring
Fuk with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
I've been fuked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh)
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y'all some "well wishers, " friendly acting, envy hiding snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?
When these streets keep calling, heard it when I was sleep
That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef
Started cocking up my weapon, slowly loading up this ammo
To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle
This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid
When KRS already made an album called Blueprint
First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big
Dick sucking lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live
"God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already
The king is back, where my crown at?
(I'll, will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas
Fuk with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you the king you know you
(Not) "God's son" across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already
Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches
What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watching his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissing women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly
In '88 you was getting chased through your building
Calling my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers
All I did was gave you a style for you to run with
Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the god
Wearing Jaz chains, no TECs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe, trying to work it out, you tryna' get brolic?
Ask me if I'm trying to kick knowledge
Nah, I'm trying to kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy
Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas?
Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my Glock, fellas
Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you getting girls now 'cause of your looks?
Ne-gro please
You no mustache having, with whiskers like a rat
Compared to Beans you wack
And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to hanging with Caine, to Herb, to Big
And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit
You a dick-riding fagot, you love the attention
Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons
Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick
J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick
So little shorty's getting gunned up and clapped quick
How much of Biggie's rhymes is goin' come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss

 

[Mi mi]

2Pac- Hit 'Em Up

I ain't got no motherfuckin' friends (sucka-ass)
That's why I fuked yo' bitch, you fat motherfucker
West side, Bad Boy killers (take money, take money)
You know who the realest is, niggas, we bring it to you (take money)
That's aight
(Take money)
First off, fuk your bitch and the clique you claim
Westside when we ride, come equipped with game
You claim to be a player but I fuked your wife
We bust on Bad Boy niggas fuked for life
Plus, Puffy tryin' to see me weak hearts I rip
Biggie Smalls and Junior M.A.F.I.A. some mark-ass bitches
We keep on comin' while we runnin' for yo' jewels
Steady gunnin', keep on bustin' at them fools, you know the rules
Lil' Ceaser, go ask ya homie how I leave ya
Cut your young ass up, leave you in pieces, now be deceased
Lil' Kim, don't fuk around with real G's
Quick to snatch yo' ugly ass off the streets, so fuk peace
I let them niggas know it's on for life
Don't let the Westside ride tonight (haha)
Bad Boy murdered on wax and killed
Fuk wit' me and get yo' caps peeled, you know, see
Grab ya Glocks when you see Tupac
Call the cops when you see Tupac, uh
Who shot me? But ya punks didn't finish
Now ya 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, I hit em' up
Check this out, you motherfuckers know what time it is (take money)
I don't even know why I'm on this track (take money)
Y'all niggas ain't even on my level
I'ma let my little homies ride on you (take money)
Bitch made-ass Bad Boy bitches, feel it (hey, yo, yo, hold the fuk up, yo)
Get out the way, yo, get out the way, yo
Biggie Smalls just got dropped
Little Mu', pass the MAC and let me hit him in his back
Frank White need to get spanked right for settin' traps
Little accident murderers and I ain't never heard of ya
Poisonous gats attack when I'm servin' ya
Spank ya, shank ya whole style when I gank
Guard your rank 'cause I'ma slam your ass in the paint
Puffy weaker than the fukin' block I'm runnin' through, nigga
And I'm smokin' Junior M.A.F.I.A. in front of you, nigga
With the ready power tuckin' my Guess under my Eddie Bauer
Ya clout petty sour, I push packages every hour, hit 'em up
Grab ya Glocks when you see Tupac
Call the cops when you see Tupac, uh
Who shot me? But ya punks didn't finish
Now ya 'bout to feel the wrath of a menace
Nigga, we hit em' up
Peep how we do it, keep it real as penitentiary steel
This ain't no freestyle battle
All you niggas gettin' killed with ya mouths open
Tryna come up offa me, you in the clouds hopin'
Smokin' dope, it's like a sherm high, niggas think they learned to fly
But they burn, motherfucker, you deserve to die
Talkin' 'bout you gettin' money but it's funny to me
All you niggas livin' bummy why you fuckin' with me?
I'm a self-made millionaire
Thug livin' outta prison, pistols in the air
Biggie, remember when I used to let you sleep on the couch
And beg a bitch to let you sleep in the house?
Now it's all about Versace, you copied my style
Five shots couldn't drop me, I took it and smiled
Now I'm 'bout to set the record straight
With my AK, I'm still the thug that you love to hate
Motherfucker, I hit 'em up
I'm from N-E-W Jers'
Where plenty murders occurs
No points or commas, we bring drama to all you herbs
Now go check the scenario
Little Ceas', I'll bring you fake G's to your knees
Coppin' pleas in de Janeiro
Little Kim, is you coked up or doped up?
Get your little Junior Whopper clique smoked up
What the fuk, is you stupid?
I take money, crash and mash through Brooklyn
With my clique lootin', shootin' and pollutin' your block
With a 15-shot cocked Glock to your knot
Outlaw MAFIA clique movin' up another notch
And your pop stars popped and get mopped and dropped
And all your fake ass East Coast props
Brainstormed and locked
You's a beat biter
A Pac style taker
I'll tell you to your face you ain't shit but a faker
Softer than Alizé with a chaser
About to get murdered for the paper
E.D.I Mean approach the scene of the caper
Like a loc, with Little Ceas' in a choke
Gun totin' smoke, we ain't no motherfuckin' joke
Thug Life, niggas better be known
We approachin' in the wide open, gun smokin'
No need for hopin', it's a battle lost
I got 'em crossed as soon as the funk is boppin' off
Nigga, I hit 'em up
Now you tell me who won
I see them, they run (hahaha)
They don't wanna see us (take money)
Whole Junior M.A.F.I.A. clique
Dressing up trying to be us (take money)
How the fuk they gon' be the mob when we always on our job? (Take money)
We millionaires
Killin' ain't fair but somebody gotta do it (take money)
Oh yeah, Mobb Deep (take money) you wanna fuk with us?
You little young-ass motherfuckers (take money)
Don't one of you niggas got sickle cell or something? (Take money)
You fuking with me
Nigga, you fuk around and have a seizure or a heart attack (take money)
You better back the fuk up 'fore you get smacked the fuk up
This is how we do it on our side
Any of you niggas from New York that wanna bring it, bring it
But we ain't singin', we bringin' drama
Fuk you and your motherfuckin' mama
We gon' kill all you motherfuckers
Now when I came out, I told you it was just about Biggie
Then everybody had to open their mouth with a motherfuckin' opinion
Well this is how we gon' do this
Fuk Mobb Deep, fuk Biggie
Fuk Bad Boy as a staff, record label and as a motherfuckin' crew
And if you want to be down with Bad Bo, then fuk you too
Chino XL, fuk you too
All you motherfuckers, fuk you too (take money, take money)
All of y'all motherfuckers, fuk you, die slow, motherfucker
My .44 make sure all y'all kids don't grow
You motherfuckers can't be us or see us
We motherfukin' Thug Life riders, Westside 'til we die
Out here in California, nigga, we warned ya
We'll bomb on you motherfuckers, we do our job
You think you mob? Nigga, we the motherfuckin' mob
Ain't nothin' but killers and the real niggas
All you motherfuckers feel us
Our shits go triple and 4-quadruple
(Take money)
You niggas laugh 'cause our staff got
Guns in they motherfuckers belts
You know how it is when we drop records, they felt
You niggas can't feel it, we the realest
Fuk 'em, we Bad Boy killers (we killers)

 

[Knock life]

Great

 

[Mad Max]

Hivi Loose Yourself ni Diss?

 

[Miguel Alvarez]

Kuna Moja ya Cormega

One Love(Letter to Nas)

 

[Mi mi]

Ja Rule alibamizwa na Slim Shady humu
Bump Heads

Nigga
Yeah (yeah, yeah)
Here we go again (Shady)
Shady Records Mixtape
The invasion (G-G-G-G-Unit)
Part two (here we go again)
Conspiracy theory
International version
The evil genius, Green Lantern
Let's go
Does it make you mad when I switch my flow?
You can't understand how I get my dough
50 Cent, I'm on fire 'cause Shady said so
I'm on fire (here we go now)
Everybody's in a rush to try to get the throne
I just get on the track and try to set the tone
I ain't tryna use nobody as a steppin' stone
But don't compare me, I'm better off just left alone (exclusive)
And I ain't even tryna go there with record sales
I'm just tryna keep it humble and respect myself
Say, "What up?, Keep steppin', and just rep D12"
Keep my nose clean, stay away from weapons, jail
And livin' reckless, but if you go check my belt
You may see something else I use to protect myself
A vest, to stop a Ruger and deflect the shells
And send 'em back at you faster than they left the barrel
And I don't even carry guns no more, I don't got to
Got undercover cops that'll legally pop you
And I done seen a lot of people cross the line
But this motherfucker Ja must have lost his mind
That X, got him thinkin' he was DMX
Then he switched to Pac, now he's tryna be him next
So which one are you? X, Luther, Pac or Michael?
Just keep singin' the same song, recycled
We'd all much rather get along than fight you
Me and Hailie dance to your songs, we like you
And you don't really wanna step inside no mic booth
Come on now, you know the white boy'll bite you
I'll hurt your pride, dawg, and you know I don't like to
But I will if I have to, with syllable after
Syllable I just slap you, killin' you faster
Than you poppin' pill after little pill of them tabs
Of that shit you on, but if you want it, you got it
You'd bump this shit too, if we ain't diss you on it
But if we lock horns, we can charge harder than Busta (Green Lantern!)
We bump heads with any motherfucker that wants to (yeah)
So what's the deal, where was all the tough talk?
When I walked up to you like, "Ja, what up, dawg?"
How come you didn't say you had a problem then?
When you was standin' there with all your men, we coulda solved this then
I'm a grown man, dawg, come holla
All you did was slap hands, smile, and swallow
Another one of them little X pills in front of me
And tell me 50 Cent was everything you wanna be
Come on!
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You talk and soon you gon' see
You don't wanna bump heads with me
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You talk and soon you gon' see
You don't wanna bump heads with me
Tony!
You couldn't son me if my father helped you
My punchlines is hot, my bars will melt you (what?)
Ja, you Stuart Little, shells'll lift you
Every other week, I'm buyin' a new pistol
I clap at your ass with this chrome .38
And put six through your hats a seven and three-eight
Irv, you ain't Suge Knight, you Shook Knight
I'll put my knife in your wind pipe and breeze through the turnpike
You know and I know who took your chain
You got robbed two times, so your ass is lame
I'm down to die for this shit, all I need is bail
You better stick to the movies with Steven Seigel, bitch
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You talk and soon you gon' see
You don't wanna bump heads with me
I know you don't want it with me
You know you don't want it with me
You talk and soon you gon' see
You don't wanna bump heads with me (Lloyd Banks!)
Fuk that, I'm miles away
And these industry niggas startin' to get outta hand
Like I won't find your whereabouts by stompin' 'em out your man
We killin' New York, even in Compton, they understand
I'm on the block where you was raised (break it, break it)
Blowin' chocolate up out your van and (break it down!)
They see me pop a boy icy 'cause I could
You been gone so long, you probably forgot your way around the hood (hood)
'Cause when you paranoid, it's hard to make a song
How you want it with us if half of your artists got makeup on?
Every magazine I open, you on your knees takin' prayer pictures
And you ain't even got shot yet, you scared bitches
You don't know nothin' 'bout what pain is, sucker
I'll put your ass underground like a train conductor, motherfucker!
I know you don't want it with me (that's my man, Paul Rosenberg)
You know you don't want it with me (walk the bell)
You talk and soon you gon' see (Shady Records)
You don't wanna bump heads with me (Don Robinson)
I know you don't want it with me (Interscope Worldwide)
You know you don't want it with me
You talk and soon you gon' see (look out for the tour, Anger Management)
You don't wanna bump heads with me (Europe and Japan)
Yeah, nigga
Yeah, Shady Aftermath
G-Unit
Fuk you think they call us G-Unit for?
'Cause we move units, huh-uh
Don't think we ain't billin' you for this motherfuckin' studio time
Matter of fact, keep it on 50, we'll call it even, ha