2 Raw For The Streets
2005 Top Klass Freestyle (Reign Man, Reed Dollaz, Beez)
[Verse 1: Reign Man]
They ask me how I think of the bars
All I need is a Dutch and some stank in the jar
Think of me when you think of a star
I’m too raw for the streets, think of me when you thinking of Star
Yeah, I’m building fam
And I ain’t make a dollar from the tour but I made a million fans
Was and I’m still the man
‘Cause every flow hit you close to ya’ heart like I killed ya’ man
Y’all shoot, we spray too
But fuck the heater, I’m tryna cut the beat up like DJs do
If it’s a problem, we say who?
What we say do, is put a price on him, like eBay do
Now listen, since Reed put out A.A.P
Some of the people he was beefing with now thеy hate me
Get ya’ ass kickеd period, A-K-P
You bought a new gun? I just got a AK free

[Verse 2: Reed Dollaz]
It’s like homie I never back down, shit I keep the MAC ‘round
My gun 6’9”, I post up and back Shaq down
Get it right, I hit the lights and pull the ‘Lac ‘round
You hear the crackle then it snap and then that ‘blat blat’ sound
Reed back now, n***a I was never gone
The hood is my crib, come and see me, I am always home
[?] so it’s better you leave
But your life? You should cherish, dedicate it to Reed
Every day you got my dick in ya’ mouth, but I don’t care
I’m probably somewhere putting dick in ya’ spouse
Ay Reign, I’m ‘bout to kill him, put the fifth in his mouth
I’m in the game like bleach, ain’t no getting me out
What’s the riffing about? Man they fucking wit’ a soldier
Cords no microphone, you could battle in a coma
Right now, I’m ‘bout to fuck up the game
Then fuck up any fucking fucker tryna fuck up my name
What the fuck, I’ma stunt, who the fuck could you blame?
Tell them fucks Reed here, what the fuck is they saying?
Huh? Trying me I ain’t the one ya’ get fly wit’
Giving out wings if you thinking that you fly bitch
[Verse 3: Reed Dollaz]
N***as don’t really want it my boys is too grimy
Run shit and flood them blocks like tsunami
‘Bout 50-shot Tommys, don’t nobody got ‘em
50 shots on the top, hundred shots on the bottom
Ready for war, scope aim ready then pour
Snitch n***as bitch n***as keep they head to the floor
Talk that shit, that’s why the young n***as wanna roll wit’ me
Punchline raps don’t work, they can’t flow wit’ me
Eight-year veteran, the bars is out
I been hot before the tour and Big Star was out
N***as tried to sleep on him
I got low, creep on ‘em
Eight years later I’m greater it’s rest in peace for ‘em
I got him a box, the suit with the crease on him
Sat in the back of the funeral, watched the fam grieve on him
I am sick wit’ a cold, don’t make me sneeze on ‘em
N***as that’ll snap ya’ neck you even breathe on ‘em
Young De Niro, low on some fly shit
Kept my mouth quiet, I’m Paulie that boss mob shit
Rope hogtie shit it’s nothing to me
To all the gangsters in the city, come and fuck wit’ a G
Stojakovic pop a clip, dump from the key
Tote a lotta shit I’m God, I could lift up the sea
See the picture is deep, and n***as know that
Southwest AG’s, you’re now rocking wit’ the king, get ya’ Kodak
[Verse 4: Beez]
They keep hating and hating, ‘cause I’m making the cake and
And they say that we taking over the radio stations
I got the radio blazing, put me in heavy rotation
‘Til every woman and man, feel me in every nation
Said I’m locking it down, and I swallowed the key
I created the path, n***as following me
So I carry the weight, ‘til I’m breaking my back
Ain’t no stop or no slacking man I’m just making the facts
I’ma keep making the stacks, ‘til the day that I’m gone
Your girl playing my song, and she singing along
When she come to my show, I’ma play wit’ her thong
So I really don’t care, you could say that I’m wrong
Man I can’t be stopped, I done said it again
N***as hating the facts, that I’m better than them
You got money to waste, then come bet all ya’ ends
If you put on a front, I’ll put lead in ya’ men
Got the eye of a tiger, and the speed of a cheetah
I’ma heat with them heaters I could give fevers a fever
Just leave it to Beaver I‘ma start teaching ‘em teachers
I’m bringing life to the mic when I speak it through speakers
Yo, yo it’s Beez and I’m the killer of the year
All my homies getting cheese and put that killa in the air
If you fly let ‘em fly bullets lift you in the air
You done, I’m number one you faggots coming in the rear
You tryna get ya’ point across, busting in the air
Shit, we get our point across busting at ya’ peers
I ain’t busting outta fear, I hold it steady wit’ mine
The pound speak I ground beef but spaghetti is fine
Okay, you hot homie but I’m hotter wit’ rhymes
I’m like Saddam, I will bomb if you cross that line
Look, go ahead wit’ ya’ bullshit rap
You say you gunning but you run and get ya’ old head gat
Go ahead wit’ the bullshit black
So as he move I’ma clip him, the gun hit him ‘til his forehead crack
You better do what you gon’ do to me, I’m here in my community
Riding for all my soldiers and e’erybody that’s cool wit’ me
Disrespect to I, shit I gotta put the tool to him
Leave him rocked, stretched in a box, now how cool is him?
I’m on the move again, Touch Money moving in
So call up ya’ hooligans and tell ‘em bring the Glocks
You ain’t got nothing to fetch then you’ll catch rounds to the top
That’s another rapper dead and another open slot
See the timing is hot, and I’m steaming this time around
Not even a slug from the chromey’ll slow this homie down
Shorties used to said I was corny but they all on me now
Probably ‘cause they heard that I’m hot, the words get around
Look, it’s Touch Money to the death
If it’s war then it’s war we bring the drama to ya’ steps
Black mask and the TEC, I’m demanding my respect
Dummy, I want the money or I’ma damage ya’ set
Check, we the hottest out, you disagree, you could place a bet
Ya’ label raping you so you ain’t making no paper yet
I’m hot wit’ the verse, every word make the paper sweat
‘Til the paper wet, n***as better pay respects
If you a rookie, you should never try to play a vet
‘Cause the chrome like cologne it will spray at ya’ neck
And them TECs like air fresheners, spraying up ya’ set
I bet you smell me now, ain’t shit you could tell me now, shit
I’m tryna sell them pounds, plus I got the rock to flip
But shit I got weed smoking like the bottom of a rocket ship
And I be higher than a space shuttle
Because they puff to they grill and I’ma can for they face muscles
I’m on the straight hustle tryna bring the money home
They call me Beez not the ones in the honeycomb
My weed sticky like a honeycomb oh I’m a joke?
Well we gon’ joke when the bat break ya’ funnybones
I don’t really wanna merk the bol
I hold the shottie in position, look like I’m playing tug-of-war
So homie believe me I’m doing this easy
This ain’t shit, just to make ya’ back crack like Peedi
See I don’t play games but I’ll take aim
Just to see a couple bullets enter ya’ frame, remember the name
It’s young, Beez and you know that I’m riding the same
I keep the burner TEC next to the Hanes, it ain’t a game
Check rock, see I was ghetto back when weed in the shoebox
You the type to get knocked for singing like a jukebox
Look, I’m getting cheddar, you salt without the pepper homie
I’m tryna stick around cheese like a pepperoni
So you’s a phony, you copying raps
Oh you a thug? That’s funny like a comedy act
See I’ma, cock and clap, ya’ bols gon’ fight
I stay away from plugs like a cordless mic
I’m staying sucka-free but all my shots is fatal, I
March on n***as and, rain like April
And may I, see if another guy betting?
I’m so hot that I got the summertime sweating
I’m snatching ya’ fiends, it’s Beez I’m the better hustler
I got dimes that’s fluffy like feather dusters
[Verse 5: Reed Dollaz]
Riding in the club with them boys that’ll rep sick
TEC spit, mess up and come in that southwest clique
Move when we coming through, stopping all the mean mug
We deep, a hundred Jamaicans I got a team of thugs
All my n***as do the thing, homie we don’t play ‘round
Play around it get ya’ stomped, like the A-town
This is that Philly shit, get drunk silly shit
After the club he wan’ trip, let the millis flip
I’m in the club steady riding with my people man
I never slip, fully loaded cock Desert Eagles man
And I’m quick to leave a man, right where he talking at
Caution tape, teddy bears, outline chalk in black
Man I’m a bad dude, Reed Dollaz is bad news
But I’m on the grind and I know, that cash rules
Man step, blast fool, AK, pick him up
Hundred shot, put him down, shottie bullets pick him up
We posted and roasting our potent, the finest grade that I’m toting
You [?] if you smoking my eyes are open-

[Verse 6: Reign Man]
I don’t even write my rhymes, they come to me
I’m a beast, as for the beat, it runs from me
If I don’t eat that’s like taking my son from me
And I ain’t got one, so you ain’t taking one from me
Not a crumb from me, akh, run from me
Or pop one, or he gon’ catch a hot one from me
Yeah, hard head make a soft bottom
So for y’all bread I’ll let these hard heads hit ya’ soft bottom
Everyone of y’all, I don’t like none of y’all
Fuck a verse, I see you in person and I’m confronting y’all
Like how dare you try to dance with the devil
N***a you don’t stand a chance, in my pants is the metal
This man is a rebel
Kicked my career into full speed, shit I put my hands on the pedals
So ride out, or get rolled over
These n***as is trained actors, fact is, show’s over
‘Til I eat, I get no closure
But the flow is so bold and so cold I’m like the old Hova
Hardbody like the old Nova
Known soldier, put you in the basement like a old sofa
Fuck wit’ me that’s a buck fifty
Shit I’m a problem that my dad ain’t even want, now you stuck wit’ me
I got some Henny, and a Dutch wit’ me
So fuck a 16, I’ll drop about a hundred n***a plus 50
And I ain’t even trying to do it
I ain’t lying I got these young bols dying to do it
They don’t know nothing ‘bout the bidness so they flying into it
N***as is selling bullshit, and they buying into it
It’s Reign, one man two shows two deals
All on the same channel, can you handle what I deal?
When I cut up the cards, and I hand ‘em to you will
You start bitching like I got that big Smith & to ya’ grill?
You probably would, do it you probably should
I’ll be good, once I turn southwest into Hollywood
Uh, I’m talking hot, in the middle of winter
You stepping in but I’m a veteran, you still a beginner
That’s like tryna block my shot wit’ a little defender
These n***as act like big thugs but they really pretenders

[Verse 7: Reed Dollaz]
I got the crack in the streets the hood fiending for
I gave ‘em something they love it, they said they needing more
I switched the flows to base, they said they need the raw
Now the flow be powder, they say they need a straw
Trucks with the scanners out, lights on, cameras out
Gangster’s poster child, I pose with the hammers out
N***as ain’t ready for him, Reed to heavy for ‘em
They do it big, seven stacks and a bezzy on ‘em
Make me put a dot on ya’ crib
Knock up, you pop up, in the blinds like the SWAT at ya’ crib
Hide the kids in the safe place, we aiming for big safes
10 zeros you weirdo, we needing that big cake
Make me get ya’ bitch raped, tied up, shot up
50 shots in the street, calmly put the stock up
Hit the whole block up, then roll up something
Watch ya’ mouth player, hold up cousin
Cut the fly talk
I’ll leave ya’ spirit right there on the sidewalk
Over ya’ body like ‘goddamn, this was my fault’
Running with them n***as who ride hard
Dudes feel us, we Bruce Willis, we die hard, the squad’s armed
Ya’ boy got a lot to say, this is Dolla day
Let’s sit down and think about, who’s hot today
Reed Dollaz, Reed Dollaz, Reed Dollaz
Almost forgot Reed Dollaz ‘cause he’s hotter
Listen I need rider, the Benz wit’ the big wheels
Bentley truck, 208, the big grille
Shorty love to ride, I’m like ‘bitch chill
We got this money to make baby this shit’s real
I’m in the hood with the hustlers and goons
Southwest ride out, come and check my platoon
Motherfuckers is doomed, we got the streets in our palm
They talking this they talking that, got the street in my rhymes
Motherfuckers think, Reed won’t make it, you never know
But if I blow, let ‘em know, I was real, I never faked it
Any record you got, bet ya’ boy break it
Any belt you claiming, bet ya’ boy take it
The undisputed king of southwest
And them Star DVDs, don’t front I’m ya’ bitch best, ya’ bitch pressed
Greazy talk’ll get you a hollow today
You old news this is Dolla today, it’s Dolla day, ay