[Intro]
This is Redman 80 Bar Challenge
Less go

[Verse]
Yo, what's poppin', baby? This shit is mental
Yo mama tried jockin' and caught a buckshot in the temple
Ayy, don't sweat it, bro, she love it, it's okay
"Oh great, Jarv's goin' back to his old ways"
Yeah, back in '08, I was in 8th grade
And one fateful day, I received an HJ
On the front lawn, out front of my school
WHS; I gotta say it was cool
Mainly it was cool on account of the location
Well, I guess I'd never had an HJ before
So that added a certain level of magnification
On what could already be considered a rad situation
And you know what's also exciting?
Few days later was the first time I tried weed
My stеp brother gave me a nuggеt and said, "Later"
I tried to roll it up with construction paper
Plus masking tape, I had to fake the symptoms
I wasn't actually baked, the J ripped
If ya find scraps of weed on the floor
Motherfucker, what the fuck you gon' do? (Pick it up, pick it up)
Bussit, I'm comin' in with the quickness
"I'm ill when I'm on the microphone and plus I am delicious"
Is what I tell the bitches when I'm tryna kick my game
She said, "Who's your favorite MC?" and I did not say
'Cause I don't have to, thotty, it gotta be me
I'll get caught with a homicide, how I body the beat
I'll devise a calculated attack and before I set it in motion
I'm in the mirror like, "Are you talkin' to me?"
Peep the steelo, feed me Doritos
Plus a rum ham, yung Dan Devito
Please stay up out of my comments with that
"He don't say nothin' of substance" dumb bitch, we know
Eat those nuts if you got a nut allergy
Make your throat close up and try battling
Any MC claiming that they snapping
If ya make it up to me, kid I'll still be laughing like
"Please, oh please make it stop"
Used to claim hip-hop then ya went pop
Ya say, "Rap just ain't sellin' like it used to"
Quit music and do something useful
Maybe you'd be better suited workin' at Mickey D's
You'll possibly get a promotion if you stick your neck out
Maybe you could get a job at Target stockin' the shelves
Or assisting people with the self-checkout
Maybe you could do something involving a moving company
Facilitating people with the move of a lifetime
Or, I don't know, try roofing, anything as long as it
Doesn't have to do with you tryna write rhymes
I'm fine with the lowdown lifestyle; poverty line skatin'
Nate can write rhymes with the best of 'em
And they can't take that away
Feelin' like a misfit livin' in a static age
Pass the plate, I have to say
This bastard'll craft raps 'til he pass away
And on that day my casket lay at the grave
I'll cast a gray sky full of acid rain
And drop down on 'em, I be makin' it burn
If it isn't a casket, I'm vacatin' an urn
And I'll make a return, hair in fresh-laid perm
Until that day, it's words I'ma rain on this Earth
It's like BLAOW, bring the beat back in
I'll complete a heater with ease and then it's peace out, friend
I'ma be outro like hipster rap cats
Rockin' capri pants and gauchos- you foul bro
I douse hoes with the fire hose, blasta
On the track, it's blood, sweat, and plasma
This cunt'll keep on cussin' 'cause I have to, cousin
'Cause I'm a rude-ass bastard
Catch up you slow pokes
I wrote about 4,000 raps sittin' upon the throne, so
You come kickin' that drivel in my direction
You'll be bombarded with bars and your body will twist, bend
Breakbeats got me feelin' villainous willin' to
Fill any rhytthm with militant multi-syllable killer shit
If it isn't an innovative way to make a beta play the fader
With the brilliance and skill of ill-intent
I want no part of it, pardon me, arteries oughta by bustin'
I punish under-achievers leavin' 'em beaten and bloodied
I studied under the baddest like Muddy Waters
Dare Iz a Darkside to rap
It's the 80 Bar Challenge