Six rappers trade verses in a raw cypher, boasting about hustling and regional pride while dismissing mainstream artists like Nas and Young Thug. The session mixes hype-building dance challenges with aggressive war imagery and profanity-laden bars that capture the competitive edge of underground rap.
You need to give it up and go like John Stockton, man.
That embarrasses the South.
Why we got him?
Hip-hop is in the high school. I give him rousing applause.
May I never hear Nas ever touch the mic again. Same goes for Young Thug.
I don't care where he is. And the same goes for Mimsy.
Hip-hop hates y'all.
The steroid of rap, just like baseball.
You're fucking up the game. Embarrassing the name.
Ripping at it in the South, in the North, in the same gym. Who's got rings on rappers?
That's dope.
Yeah, y'all clap to that.
Let's see them make a dance off of that shit, nigga.
They don't want to tell the truth, but I will though.
Hey, just a high roll in the building.
Do it like that, baby.
I hope Grand Roman told me give a shout out, 'cause I got to give a shout out.
Do it like this, you know what I'm saying? So this here—
hey, bitch, I got You ain't got like I got.
I couldn't fit my money in that bag, so I'm walking around the city with my stash. I spend it how I get it, I lose it fast. I'm a hustler, I can make that name for a bag. Need a swag, that's the most poppin' swag, man. I put up this bag, you better make a grab.
And I got straps like them niggas in Iraq with a Mr.
Pops pill like this fucking Tic Tac in the Cadillac with the face straight.
Yes, sir. Next up to the stage, we gonna have In This Moment. And y'all know how I get it now. The lady in the middle, and it's gonna go crazy. I bet back over there.
Y'all going to see me shaking my head like I got long hair.
So it's going to go down, baby. How old are you rolling? I got no remix since y'all hollering at me, baby.
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