This is Cleaning Out My Saved Drafts Week.

“I’m On” is probably my favorite posse cut of the year, with all due respect to future COMSDW subject “2 Deep,” and it’s the exact same sort of shit-talk that the best posse cuts of the modern era are about: Being fly and wearing fresh attire and smoking expensive high-grade marijuana.

But this isn’t every other posse cut: it’s got a weird mix of contributors — with the exception of Wale and Wiz, it would be weird to see any two of the four rapping guests together on a track — and works despite putting its heaviest hitters at the beginning and saving the airiest for last. It’s also a wonderfully produced track, from Houston’s CyFyre with a few rippling synth notes, sharp drums, and the repeated chop of MDMA’s “I’m on” leaving it suspended in thin air in a way that the other big “I’m on” song of 2011 isn’t.

And, best of all, everyone gets off: Lupe sounds at ease and doesn’t have to shoehorn in his attempt to be thoughtful; Trae’s whispery menace contrasts with everyone else beautifully; Antwan is barely trying, but comes up with the best image of the whole endeavor (“Made my mark like the craters on the moon / Rockin’ alligator shoes”); Wale’s fortune cookie-ism (“Rather live alone forever than live a lie”) hits; and whoa, Wiz raps like he really wants to be part of an upper echelon, almost double-timing and then switching back to “Nigga, I’m on like the light,” one hell of a truism, before a dismount that’s so clever I can’t believe he came up with it.

I really, really like this song, is what I am saying. Download “I’m On” at Hulkshare, buy Street King at Amazon, and check out the “I’m On” lyrics after the jump, adapted from Killer Hip-Hop’s.

Lyrics

(Higher, higher)

MDMA

I’m on
I’m on
I’m on
Oooh, yeah, hey
I’m on
I’m on
I’m on
I’m on
(Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh) I’m on
(Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh) I’m on
(Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh) I’m on

Lupe Fiasco

Yeah, glitterati, big bodies and tall swangs
Devil on me, Spitalfields and AllSaints
Playin’ field ain’t level in the lane
Throw stones at ya bones, kick pebbles at your pain
Swear they go hard, but they so Jell-O in the paint
Tryna Carmelo but he cain’t
Lord have mercy, but we’ll be having that jersey
Flowin’ so hungry, rappin’ that thirsty
Think fast, fast women like Jackie Joyner-Kersee
Fast life like born on Wednesday and died on Thursday
Fast money like Zakat al-Fitr, break fast
Slow my roll like brake pads
‘Cause if you run the light, they just might stop you niggas
Rodney King on the dome, just the things that I’m on

Trae Tha Truth

I’m on this one-way, headed where the Suns play
If I don’t make it, then somebody tell my son spray
Struggled at first class, headed for the runway
Real nigga shit, I gotta make it one day
Sick of hard times, so I tell them to fall back
Sittin’ in all white, but the Phantom is all black
For everything I lost, tell ‘em I want it all back
Everyone who left me for nothing, tell ‘em to call back
They ain’t authentic, tell them I don’t even relate
Minus the love, they feel like I was something to hate
Tell them hate now, the world looking at ‘im
They on the front row, everybody looking at ‘im
I used to have dark nights, now it’s bright lights
Daytime bus pass, now it’s night flights
Had a po’ man’s swag, now it’s priced right
Always wanted a piece of the pie, now it’s sliced right
Yeah, you can tell ‘em I’m home
The streets in need of a king, you can tell ‘em I’m home
Used to be at the bottom, tell ‘em it wasn’t for long
Now I’m always in the hood like I never was gone
I’m on, I told ‘em I’m something that ain’t gon’ cut off
Try to hit the switch if you want, I ain’t gon’ cut off
A hundred thousand volts of Truth, I ain’t gon’ shut off
Anything in the way is gon’ get permanantly shut off

I’m on (Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh)
I’m on (Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh)
I’m on (Whooaaa-oh-ah-oh-oh)
(Oooh yeah, hey) I’m on

Big Boi

Never letting go, although sometimes I slip
Like banana peels for heels, my spiel is so legit
Notice it every time I pick up the microphone and spit
Eyes wide, ears open, like you on a doctor’s visit
But this ain’t physics of rocket science
It’s just a little tune to keep you motivated and inspired
I am not a motivational speaker
But people get easily motivated when they hear B-i-g wreaking
Havoc on the track, boi, grab it, hold it tight
My city, grind with me, hootie-hooin’ through the night sky
Butterfly bow tie, made my mark like the craters on the moon
Rocking aligator shoes, I’m on

Wale

You know me, cool breeze, a nigga high
Rather live alone forever than live a lie
I’m in the zone, Foam Pros keepin me comfy
Y’all squares, dark squares cover my luggage
I’m in love with some women, more in love with my mother
I’m in love with my God, less in love with this money
And my level is off, got a bigger cigar
Out in Vegas wit’ broads, ’bout as thick as Toccara
My ambition is ammunition if this is war
They can’t run, they can’t run, this is a war
Got forever endurance, forever I’m the purest
I put my breath in this ma’fucka, they better hear it
Good denim, bad women, and better lyrics
My only dream, to get rich and never marry
Gave these niggas the pink slip when they appeared
And I ain’t trippin’, my only competition’s the mirror

Wiz Khalifa

Uh
Remember they used to be like who is this, now I’m up in this bitch
Smoking weed out in London, they bringing me fish and chips
Thought of this as a young’un, who know this be the life that I really live
Now I’m flying on trips, promoters and owners giving me gifts
Don’t gotta shop, I aint payin’ for shit
This Audemar on my wrist, got it, harder to miss
Older people looking at me “How I bought all of this?”
I say I got it from grindin’, perfect timin’, started at the bottom
Ain’t afraid to climb, and took somethin’ rough and turned it to a diamond
Oh, it ain’t come easy, had to find it
And now you can’t say I got game ’cause I define it
Nigga, I’m on like the light
On, and if I ever fall off, I’ll be back on the same night
Me and my dogs we on the same flight
Carefree, I don’t need to stress
Smoking Khaled, my weed the best

(Wa-le)
(Double M G shit)

(Smokin’ while I’m rappin’, beyotch!)

(Got Lupe Fiasco)
(Trae The Truth)
(And Big Boi)
(Daddy Fat Sacks)

Here is Andre 3000′s verse on Drake’s “The Real Her,” and here are the lyrics to it, as transcribed by me. It’s a 16-bar verse with a nearly full internal rhyme in the first bar, an incredible reference to Boise State’s blue field, and a narrative full of the deep thought (about women, mostly) that Andre’s known for. If it’s not the best verse in rap this year, it’s in a conversation that might include a couple other Three Stacks verses and not much else.

If you rap, and your intent is to be lyrical and compelling, you should read this verse and figure out how Andre does what he does. If you can’t, you should probably not rap.

Lyrics

Andre 3000

Showered her wit’ dolla tips, shawty went and bought a whip
Guarantee the city remember your whole name, you throw that hoe a scholarship
All of them ain’t all equipped, and this saddens me, I see the peckin’ order
Quote-unquote bad bitches work the whole flo’, those that can laugh, that sit off in a corner
Like a lab rat, nobody want her, niggas that are married don’t wanna go home but
We look up to them, they wish they were us, they want some new trim, we lust for some trust
Now that both of us, are colorblind, ’cause the other side looks greener
Which leaves your turf in a Boise State, can’t see a play or the team, ’cause
Everybody has an addiction, mine happens to be you
And those who says they don’t, souls will later on say to them “That ain’t true”
All of them will have an opinion, but y’all know what y’all can do wit’ them
But if you’re unsure, I’ll take you on tour to a place you can stick that in
Well, sittin’ here sad a’ hell, listenin’ to Adele, I feel ya, baby
“Someone Like You”? More like someone unlike you, or somethin’ that’s familiar, maybe
And I can tell that she wants a baby, and I can yell, girl, that you’re crazy
Aw, what the hell, nope, can’t be lazy, please be careful, bitches got the rabies

The King throws his crown on The Throne’s heat rock. It’s just 12 bars at the beginning, but they’re hot.

“Niggas in Paris (Remix)” lyrics after the jump. Download the “Niggas in Paris (Remix)” MP3 via DDot.

Lyrics

(We’re gonna skate to one song, one song only)
(Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me)

T.I.

Hey!
Ay, man, I’unno what done happened, uh
I guess y’all musta caught amnesia in my absence, I ain’t been gone that long, have I?
Well, just for your reminder, how ’bout the crown meet The Throne right here?
Let’s get it

Call me T.I. or CPR, I’m killin’ shit, even in prison, I’m still the shit
Betta reconi’, King in the buildin’, bitch, act like you know, are you serious?
I (ball so hard), my ankle hurt, don’t buy a car if I ain’t the fir’
In the country wit’ it, one, two, three bitches to watch me while I painted her
I (ball so hard), they hate to see me, on the stage, Jay-Z, Kanye wit’ me
You know I (ball so hard), Tip is scary, merci beaucoup in Par-ee
Parlez-vous francais, I say, menage a trois today, I say
I (ball so hard), how I depart? Maybach chauffeured, I ain’t got to par’
So raw, so official, dawg, them lames cain’t do nothin’ wit’ you, dawg
She all on me, better get your broad, don’t like that, blow yo’ whistle, dawg
I (ball so hard), no referee’ll throw no flag, ain’t no techs for me
I keep them suckas upset wit’ me, them racks back on deck, you be’ belee’ that I…

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me
That shit cray (What, ‘Ye?)
That shit cray (Haaaa)
That shit cray

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me
That shit cray (Huh, what, ‘Ye?)
That shit cray (Yeah, yeah)
That shit cray (Go, ay!)

Jay-Z

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me, but first niggas gotta find me
What’s fitty grand to a ma’fucka like me, can you please remind me?
Ball so hard, this shit crazy, y’all don’t know that don’t shit phase me
The Nets could go 0-for-82, when I look at you, like, this shit gravy
Ball so hard, this shit weird, we ain’t even pose’ beat here
Ball so hard, but since we here, it’s only right that we be fair
Psycho, I’m liable to go Michael, take ya pick, Jackson, Tyson, Jordan, Game Six
Ball so hard, got a broke clock, Rolies that don’t tick-tock
Audemars that’s losin’ time, hidden behind all these big rocks
Ball so hard, I’m shocked, too, I’m supposed to be locked up, too
You escape what I escaped, you’d be in Paris gettin’ fucked up too
Ball so hard, let’s get faded, Le Meurice for like six days
Gold bottles, scold models, spillin’ Ace on my sick Js
Balled so hard, bitch, behave, just might let you meet ‘Ye
Chi-town’s D. Rose, so I’m movin’ the Nets to BK

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me
That shit cray
That shit cray
That shit cray

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me
That shit cray
That shit cray
That shit cray

Kanye West

She said, “‘Ye, can we get married at the mall?”
I said, “Look, you need to crawl ‘fore you ball
Come and meet me in the bathroom stall
And show me why you deserve to have it all”
(Ball so hard) That shit cray (That shit cray) Ain’t it, Jay?
(Ball so hard) What she order? (What she order?) Fish filet
(Ball so hard) “Yo’ whip so cold!” (Whip so cold!) This old thing?
Act you’ll ever be around motherfuckers like this again
Bougie girl, grab my hand, fuck that bitch, she don’t wanna dance
‘Scuse my French, but I’m in France (Haha) I’m just sayin’
Prince William’s ain’t do it right, if you ask me
‘Cause I was him I woulda (Married Kate and Ashley)
What’s Gucci, my nigga? What’s Louis, my killa?
What’s drugs, my dealer? What’s that jacket, Margiela?
Doctors say I’m the illest, ’cause I’m sufferin’ from realness
Got my niggas in Paris, and they goin’ gorillas (Hunh?)

(I don’t even know what that means!)
(No one knows what it means)
(But it’s provocative)
(No, it’s not)
(Gets the people goin’)

Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me
Ball so hard ma’fuckas wanna fine me

You are now watchin’ the throne, don’t let me get in my zone
Don’t let me get in my zone, don’t let me get in my zone
These other niggas is lyin’, actin’ like the summer ain’t mine
(I got that hot bitch in my home) You know how many hot bitches I own?
Don’t let me get in my zone, don’t let me get in my zone
Don’t let me get in my zone, don’t let me get in my zone
The stars is in the buildin’, they hands is to the ceilin’
I know I’m ’bout to kill it, “How you know?” I got that feelin’
You are now watchin’ the throne, don’t let me enter my zone
Don’t let me enter my zone, I’m definitely in my zone
(Zone, zone, zone, zone…)

Jay Electronica returns almost a year after The Turn with “Call of Duty (MW3).” Winston Churchill in the art and on the sampled speech, the Infamous all over the hook and the show-stealing third verse.

Download the “Call of Duty (MW3)” MP3 via DDotOmen. “Call of Duty (MW3)” lyrics after the jump, adapted from Rap Radar.

Lyrics

Winston Churchill

Centuries ago words were written to be a call and a spur to the faithful servants of Truth and Justice: Arm yourselves, and be ye men of valor, and be in readiness for the conflict; for it is better for us to perish in battle than to look upon the outrage of our nation and our altar. As the Will of God is in Heaven, even so let it be.

Jay Electronica

You know the story, when real see real, we recognize
When you see the steel flash, you petrified
Steve Jobs seen death after just retiring
Takes vision to build, God bless the dead
That’s Mac, that’s Pac, that’s Pun, that’s Big
Shit, niggas know the sunshine eternal
I burn slow like “Disco Inferno”
Burn slow like blunts wit’ yayo
Uh, I went from MySpace to the top of the food chain
The sperm hit the egg like a missle
Then nine months later, the celebratory news came
“Exhibit C” gave the whole world a mood change
Electronic, niggas call my album Detox
‘Cause they know I’m finna bring the next Chronic
Roc Nation, Cole World, it’s a wrap, nigga
Put yo’ diamonds in the sky, take that, nigga

Mobb Deep

Yeah
Put your diamonds in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side, get jokes when you shine
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your drama is mine

Put your diamonds in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side, get robbed ‘fore you shine
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your beef is mine

Uh-huh
To whom it may concern
If it’s hate, wait your turn, dig a crate, make a urn
Please, God, tell Flex drop a bomb on me
Tell the minister to tattoo the Qu’ran on me
Before the men in black try to pin a crime on me
And Rupert Murdoch and his goons get to lyin’ on me
The Lord is my shepherd
So tell the royal family to order my records
And spread ‘em ‘cross Europe in a organized method
We could heal the planet wit’ a organized effort
The Jews and the Christians and the Muslims and the Buddhists
And the Sikhs and Scientologist is all of my brethren
Play this on the radio
You never heard another nigga say this on the radio
We made it out the ghetti-o
Brunch with the Rothchilds, dinner with the Carters
Jay Elect stop the press, criticalest artist
(What the fu…)

Yeah
Put your diamonds in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side, get jokes when you shine
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your drama is mine

Put your diamonds in the sky (Sky)
Wave ‘em side to side, get robbed ‘fore you shine (Shine)
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your beef is mine

I done sat around for years daydreamin’ of this
Me and Jay biz, green gettin’ twist
Kids goin’ to school, we still on the bench
Early mornin’ yawning, no sleep, just this
Hardcore, rhymin’ like a diamond when I spit
Come hell or high water, we gon’ make it out the bricks
I done graduated gladiator school, what’s next?
From the bottom, only one way to go to the tip
Of the top, with these nonstop flows I invent
Bars so hard, shit hurt when it hit
My bars like prison bars, I’m trapped in the pens
Of this wildstyle hip-hop, the fuckin’ strongest
Rappers on the earth, it’s a curse and a gift
Black cloud follow my life, how worse could it get?
Respect, power, and money, in that exact order
I got it all, nigga, I’ll break ya li’l neck

Yeah
Put your diamonds in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side, get jokes when you shine
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your drama is mine

Put your diamonds in the sky
Wave ‘em side to side, get robbed ‘fore you shine
As time go by, we live by an eye for…
…an’ I’ll die for you, your beef is mine

Tip and K.R.I.T. join forces and Clifford spits fire over a heat rock, delivering on that snippet. What more do you want?

Download “I’m Flexin’” from You Heard That New. “I’m Flexin’” lyrics after the jump.

Lyrics

T.I.

Yeah, it’s the King, cuh
You know my demo, Maybach, no limo, homes
I’m sacked up, too
I don’t know what them folk doin’
I’m flexin’, tho’, patna
There it go, K.R.I.T.!

(Big K.R.I.T.) T.I.

(Hold it now) I’m flexin’, shawty
(Hold it now) I’m stupid, hoe
(Hold it now) I’m reppin’, shawty
(Hold it now) Bitch, you ain’t know?

(Hold it now) I’m Gucci, patna
(Hold it now) I Louis down
Don’t do it, patna
(Hold it now) Or it’s goin’ down

I wear stripes row, my Louis , ho, a cubie matchin’ my kicks, bitch
Papparazzi everywhere I go, I got cameras all in my bidne’
I rep the town, hold it down, cruise all around in my old school
My speaker loud and my reefer, too, I ain’t speakin’, bitch, do I know you?
Fed want me back behind that wall, that’s the only place that I can’t go
I’m focused, dog, and I ain’t wit’ that fuck shit, think it sweet but it ain’t, doe
I’m tried and true when I’m ridin’ through, I ain’t hidin’, they can just hate me
My top is down and my pockets fat and my diamonds clearer than HD

(Hold it now) I’m flexin’, shawty
(Hold it now) I’m stupid, hoe
(Hold it now) I’m reppin’, shawty
(Hold it now) Bitch, you ain’t know?

(Hold it now) I’m Gucci, patna
(Hold it now) I Louis down
Don’t do it, patna
(Hold it now) Or it’s goin’ down

I rep the west of that A like this, don’t wanna talk about Bankhead
Still in the trap like a gotdamn brick, ’cause I love the hood, the King ain’t dead
My hustle grand, my money long, my spot on top, bitch, I want that
My position vancatn, my crown await me, my throne is empty, I own that
Folk in Kirkland, with ‘ a big hill, too, some’ll head to Pittsburgh and all that
Real goons’ll ride wit’ me to Timbuktu, I ain’t Gucci, dude, what you call that?
Mail the yell to East Point, and own that area, Vidalia, Sandal Hill all day
Decatur to Simpson-Rose, on 4-4, Hort nigga fuck wit’ me always

(Hold it now) I’m flexin’, shawty
(Hold it now) I’m stupid, hoe
(Hold it now) I’m reppin’, shawty
(Hold it now) Bitch, you ain’t know?

(Hold it now) I’m Gucci, patna
(Hold it now) I Louis down
Don’t do it, patna
(Hold it now) Or it’s goin’ down

Big K.R.I.T.

Them so-called dope boys ain’t sold enough
OGs ain’t old enough
MCs ain’t dope enough
I’ll still split yo’ coconut
You So So, I’m like dat
Tight work, bounce right back
Make room for yo’ bitc’, dog
Nigga, go’n get off my sack
That loud pack, I blow big
Always stunt so big
Please don’t get wrong, homie
Or them Gs gon’ bust yo’ wig
The A is mine, no questions asked
The King is home, bitch, the best is back
My swagga turned ‘em just like my sack
I’m flexin’, shawty, who stoppin’ that?

(Hold it now) I’m flexin’, shawty
(Hold it now) I’m stupid, hoe
(Hold it now) I’m reppin’, shawty
(Hold it now) Bitch, you ain’t know?

(Hold it now) I’m Gucci, patna
(Hold it now) I Louis down
Don’t do it, patna
(Hold it now) Or it’s goin’ down

(Hold it now) I’m flexin’, shawty
(Hold it now) I’m stupid, hoe
(Hold it now) I’m reppin’, shawty
(Hold it now) Bitch, you ain’t know?

(Hold it now) I’m Gucci, patna
(Hold it now) I Louis down
Don’t do it, patna
(Hold it now) Or it’s goin’ down

Okay, man, you don’t see what’s in yo’ face, big dog?
Yeah, man, big banks, no whammies, dog, you understand that?
Yeah, doin’ real, I’m talkin’ ’bout real proper, patna?
You understand that? I got that sack, bruh!
Prison ain’t changed shit, homeboy
You understand that?
Rubber bands on deck, guess why, homes?
Big K.R.I.T., let’s do this shit one time, man
A-Town to M-Town, patna, it goin’ down
Mississippi stand up

Jeezy hooks up with the King, still looking for a Hail Mary to connect and save TM103. This ain’t it — I heard “Castle Walls,” too — but it’s still a good song and a great J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League beat.

Stream “I’m Flexin’” at Rap Radar. “I’m Flexin’” lyrics after the jump.

Lyrics

(J.U.S.T.I.C.E. League…)

Young Jeezy

Fuck these haters, I’d kill ‘em all if I could
Ain’t scared of none of y’all, so you know my aim good
Blowin’ bin Ladie in my Porsche 911
Just left Ground Zero, on my way to kush heaven
Can’t slow down, too much evil in my rear view
Sometimes you wanna scream to God, but he can’t hear you
And even if you did, this’ll probably his answer
“Fuck you ‘plainin’ ’bout? It ain’t like you got cancer!”
Do it for my niggas on the block that got it worse
First the love, then the hate, that just a trap nigga’s curse
I betcha feel like the whole world hatin’ on you
But what’s the holdup? The whole world waitin’ on you

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…)

You mean to tell me for runnin’ my big mouth
That I could chill here in this big penthouse?
All elevator’d up, black hardwood floors
Just to sit around and feel like “It ain’t yours”?
Your conscience gotcha feelin’ like you done somethin’ wrong
But the flatscreen say “Motherfucker, we on?”
Pardon me, nigga, do you see this view?
See Ruth’s Chris from here, what the fuck’s wrong wit’ you?
Lookin’ at my Rollie, yeah, it’s almost seven
Bill Gates state of mind wit’ a automatic weapon
You might ‘member me from puttin’ on for the city
Or back when it was on two, goin’ for the fitty
Opened up a few squares, opened up a few tours
Just to show niggas keys open up doors
“Oh, we don’t fuck wit’ Young no mo’!” Why not?
The only thing I can figure, ’cause he on top

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…)

T.I.

What up, world? Long time, huh?
Hey, look

Lately, I been often outta sight, seldom outta mind
Ay, getcha bidne’ right, and stay the hell up outta mind
I’m out my mind, tryin’ to fix it ‘fore I’m outta time
Don’t worry ’bout me, God got me, bruh, I’m doin’ fine
Another year in prison, promise this is it for me
Tryin’ to make it through the storm, should be makin’ history
No feelin’ sorry for me, keep ya pity and ya sympathy
Good or bad, take it like a man, whatever meant for me
How I did it make ‘em hate my spirit, they wish they could kill it
And they’ll take it however they can get it
Wanna see me fulla misery, walkin’ wit’ my head down
“Let’s decapitate ‘im, then we’ll see if he can wear his crown!”

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
(The fame…) I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
(The fame…) I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
(The fame…) I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…) I wake up and feel empty
Shit make you wanna squeeze ya Glock ’til it’s empty
(The fame…) I’m already standin’ on the edge, so don’t tempt me
Fake motherfuckers envy

(The fame…)

Terrance hops on Drake’s “Dreams Money Can Buy” instrumental and does damage. This is a Drake diss, following fire exchanged by other Young Money and G.O.O.D. members, but whether Pusha claims it as one or not remains to be seen.

Download “Don’t Fuck With Me” from HHNM via Minya. Lyrics via HHNM after the jump, formatting and editing by me.

Lyrics

Pusha T

(Eyuck) The nerve of you
He’ll sit and clip at your lines like he ain’t heard ‘a ya
I seen it happen before, that man’ll murder ya
The lowest form of a thief is a cat burglar
Tiptoein’, but the whole while clonin’
The elephant’s in the room, the bitch glowin’
Like a ghetto girl with the good weave sewn in
She walk like its hers, but the whole world knowin’
Told niggas it’s the new god flow
It’s that New Testament and the old god knows
And you new niggas don’t get to pass Go
I’ll monopolize, Boardwalk Empire flow
So don’t mention me in the same breath, I’m Genghis
Just ventin’, I never wished to be famous
Truth told, I’d much rather be strangers
Before it leads to me turnin’ niggas to angels
Local niggas hatin’, but I can’t blame ‘em
Cleared the road to the riches but I can’t pave ‘em
Put Trey up on your hook, still couldn’t save ‘em
Better chance with a snowball hittin’ Satan

Dreams money can buy, three racks just spent on my Marty McFlys
Now I’m back to the future, my career deja vu you
When you motherfuckers thought I would hardly survive

You see, it’s a lot of people out there to be fucked wit’
I am not one
Re-Up Gang
Don’t fuck wit’ me

Rappers on their sophomores, actin’ like they boss lords
Fame such a funny thing, for sure
When niggas start believing all them encores
I’m just the one to send you off, bonjour
See yourself as I pull up in that mirror tint
Skins vers’ blouses, you mirror Prince
Chappelle Show, all of you Neal Brennans
Sketch comedy, who is for real pennin’?
The talk don’t match the leather, the swag don’t match the sweaters
And wolves don’t walk with shepherds
These Margiela verses, all you mall-dwellers
Off-the-rack suits, lookin’ like pallbearers
Coffins for my old bitches’ orphans
Daddy’s M-I-A like a Dolphin
Play the Fendi bucket like a shark’s fin
Cool J-ing on you bitches but I’m dark-skinned
We walked in, seats courtside
Dap Diddy, Will Ferrell on my walk by
At the U.S. Open, there’s much more to Queens
Versace blue-blockers, row behind Oracene
(Oooh!)

Dreams money can buy, three racks just spent on my Marty McFlys
Now I’m back to the future, my career deja vu you
When you motherfuckers thought I would hardly survive

Play Cloths Holiday, in stores 10/15
G.O.O.D. Music Def Jam, Push
No shots (Hahahaha)
But nothing goes unseen

Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’…

Killa Kyleon makes rapping sound really cool, spits 16s that could really be eights (really, I don’t know if they’re 16s or eights), puts together one of the wordiest dope hooks I’ve ever heard, and gets an inspired verse out of Bun B. I don’t know if this Lex Luger production actually samples the Drowning Pool song that it’s inspired by, but both songs kind of make my chest tighten in all the good ways.

Download “Bodies Hit The Floor” at Hulkshare and be sure to pick up Candy Paint N Texas Plates 2 at Datpiff. “Bodies Hit The Floor” lyrics and video after the jump.

Lyrics

Killa Kyleon

(Yuh)
(Hey, run it)

Killa, I am it
187 when I write this shit
DOA, get a black bag and a toe-tag
‘Cause I’m finna good night this shit
Ignite this shit, set it on fire
My car like the bar, I’ma set it up high
Wet it up, why? ‘Cause I like that candy
Haters do, too, so I keep clips handy
Send ‘em to the ER, then to the morgue
Put ‘em in a box, then put ‘em in a car
Carry ’bout six, you can put ‘em in the dirt
RIP, you can put ‘em on a shirt
.223s, send ‘em through yo’ body
Send ‘em to the wake, they can view yo’ body
Dressed in all white, hey, you lookin’ Yo Gotti
I’m a real nigga, nigga you know ’bout it

Let the bodies hit the floor
I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab
I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate
‘Cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’
Got in that slab, you can see me crawl

Let the bodies hit the floor
I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab
I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate
‘Cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’
Got in that slab, you can see me crawl

Just like an infant, sittin’ on inches
Mario and Luigi, I keep me a princess
King of the slab, y’all niggas just princes
Gettin’ to the money like a nigga be printin’ it
M-o-e ’til a nigga need mo’
Rollin’ up kush, so I’m finna meet Dro
Keep lean on me, so I’m finna meet Joe
Headed to the bank, so I’m finna meet dough
Can’t be po’, so I gotta get paid
Need a brown bag just to hold my shit
Add a little mo’ to the dough I just made?
Need a rubber band just to fold my shit
That’s why ya hoe wanna hold my dick
No nuts to the fo’ when I pull my shit
M-O-M, y’all know my shit
Money on my mind, yeah, right, no shit, bitch!

Let the bodies hit the floor
I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab
I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate
‘Cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’
Got in that slab, you can see me crawl

Let the bodies hit the floor
I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab
I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate
‘Cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’
Got in that slab, you can see me crawl

Bun B

Well, it’s the Trill O.G., er’body know me in the hood as well as the burbs
Big-body slab fish-tailin’ the curb, so fresh, so clean, I’m smellin’ superb
And yellin’ the words (What’s that?) UGK for life, RIP P-i-m-p (M-p)
Disrespect that, boy, and I’ll fuck you up, just to put it plain and simply (Simply)
When you see me comin’ around the corner, sittin’ in a foreign that you never heard of
Leather seats so fresh that the cow just died and PETA want me for murder (Say WHAT?)
And the wood inside that bitch brand new ’cause we just killed a tree (A tree)
So you already know that the motherfuckin’ EPA ain’t feelin’ me (Me)
But I’m in the buildin’, G, matta fact, I’m on the lease (The lease)
And it’s already understood when I step the fuck out on them streets (Them streets)
Tough guys start tuckin’ they tail, and all that talkin’ cease (Cease)
‘Cause they know them gladiators comin’, so all they want is peace (Peace)
You don’t want it with B the nigga, so stop pretendin’
‘Cause B done robbed from the start of it ’til the fuckin’ endin’
I pull a pistol and pop it and leave ya stankin’
On the ground, face down, stiff, nigga, like you plankin’

Let the bodies hit the floor
I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab
I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate
‘Cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’
Got in that slab, you can see me crawl

Let the bodies hit the floor, I kill this shit like Drowning Pool
My paint so wet sittin’ in that slab, I make this drownin’ look so cool
Keep that K for the haters that hate, ’cause the haters that hate wanna see me fall
Never liked walkin’, so I quit walkin’, got in that slab, you can see me crawl

@KillaKyleon, @SmokedOutLuger, @BunBTrillOG
Big Dick Cheney, RIP to the Trill OG P-i-m-p C
Trill niggas don’t die, we get fly, get mo’ money
You get no money, you know what the fuck this is
Run it! (Run it, run it…)

Yeah, Cole was right to wait for that Hov verse.

Download “Mr. Nice Watch” in either clean MP3 or dirty MP3 version via D-Dot. “Mr. Nice Watch” lyrics after the jump.

Lyrics

J. Cole

(Hey)
(Cole World)
(Yeah)

Yeah
Er’rybody got a bad side, drop, lemme see that shit
What, you say “Cole ain’t hot,” boy? Where you read that shit?
You be’lee that shit? All ’cause some lame nigga tweet that shit?
Have you seen my shows? Have you seen my hoes? If I wan’t hot, would they be so thick?
Huh, guess not, got the game in a headlock
I’m blastin’ at, I’m laughin’ at you old niggas, Redd Foxx
Don’t mind me, boy, I’m red hot, huh, aw, nigga, they not
I’m over here, I’m over there, I’m everywhere they not
(I said) You’ll never play me, nice try, ballin’ in a nice spot
No more Mr. Nice Guy, hello, Mr. Nice Watch
You don’t want no problems, put yourself in a tight spot
So you could look, but don’t touch, I stay on my toes like them white socks

‘Cause it cost me a lot (Uh-huh), my chain and my watch (Uh-huh)
They say time is money, but really it’s not
If we ever go broke, girl, then time is all we got
And you can’t make that back (I said), no, you can’t make that back
So let’s ball while we here, let’s ball while we here (Ye-yeah)
Like ain’t no tomorrow, like ain’t no next year (Uh-huh)
Drink away all our problems, make it rain wit’ no care (Uh-huh)
Like I’ll make that back, fuck it, I’ll make that back
Go (Go, go, go…)

(Ugh, nice watch!) (Uh-huh)
(Ugh, nice watch!) (I know!)
(Ugh, nice watch!)
(No more Mr. Nice Guy, hello, Mr. Nice Watch)

Stack on black (Huh), I ain’t never been a high roller
Now it’s racks on racks (Uh), never thought that I would ride Rover
But I’m back on track, add to the fact that I never really drive sober
Cole World, but I’m hot as shit, do that mean that I’m bipolar?
Young, black and gifted, I rap like it’s Christmas Eve
Coach wouldn’t let a nigga off the bench, no wonder why they quit the team
But I’m cut from a different sleeve, Cole World so the wrist’ll freeze
Hurry up with your pictures, please, I gotta make history

It cost me a lot, my chain and my watch
They say time is money, but really it’s not
If we ever go broke, girl, then time is all we got
And you can’t make that back, no, you can’t make that back
So let’s ball while we here, let’s ball while we here
Like ain’t no tomorrow, like ain’t no next year
Drink away all our problems, make it rain wit’ no care
Like I’ll make that back, fuck it, I’ll make that back
Go (Go, go, go…)

(Ugh, nice watch!) (Uh-huh)
(Ugh, nice watch!) (I know!)
(Ugh, nice watch!)
(No more Mr. Nice Guy, hello, Mr. Nice Watch)

Jay-Z

(Yeah)
Got a Hublot, I call it Tebow, I strapped that bitch wit’ a gator band
Y’all niggas ball half-time, y’all niggas like the Gator band
Y’all niggas need a time out, who got these niggas all wound up?
Cocksucka, I’m 7:30, y’all know where y’all niggas gon’ wind up
No mo’ Mr. Nice Guy, hello, Mr. Nice Watch
Only but a matter ‘a time fo’ I hit y’all niggas wit’ a nice shot
Y’all niggas bet’ not call the law, get no blood on my Audemar
Meanin’ y’all bet’ not waste my time, when y’all ready, I’ll take the world to war
Meanwhile, I’m just choppin’ off doors, put the fronter on the back ’cause I’m back to form
Put the fronter on the back wit’ a back like a boss, so I’m frontin’ on niggas when I’m backin’ off
Uh, what up, Cole? It’s yo’ time, let this niggas know
Adjust your Rollies on these ma’fuckin’ hoes, whenever you ready, go

It cost me a lot (Oh, yeah), my chain and my watch (Oh, yeah)
(Oh, yeah) (Ugh, nice watch!)
If we ever go broke, girl (Oh, yeah), then time is all we got (Oh, yeah)
(Oh, yeah) (Ugh, nice watch!)

Lyrics

Tech N9ne

Heart’s what it is
Watch what the kid drops, I’ma get the prop if you’re not wit’ the biz
Not only other regions, I really popped at the crib
So hatin’ motherfuckers, you better stop with the jibs
All for the dibs, but I’m boss,
It’s don’t matter what the cost when I live right across from the Wiz
Killa City will have a nigga lost in the Mids
Doin’ nothin’ but mothers stackin’ pussy coffin again
What is happenin’ is a merger, different levels of murder
Lil Weezy cook it and I’ma serve her
Further, guess what I’ma go do wit’ this women when we’re eatin’ Gerber?
Mama said to kill ‘em all, and I heard her
Thank you, baby, for what became Lil Wayne
It’s good that all the people know when Strange in the game
I been really able to hang in the fame
But when he shouted my name was when it changed in my lane
I’m a clusterfuck and lovin’ nothin’ but to get your brain
And I be stuck in lust and quick to a bust a nut and take a nigga’s dame wit’ no shame
When they be bussin’ ‘nough, they thinkin’ they thuggin’ tough
But never do knuckle up, you in the game, you bang
You druggin’, touchin’ everything, you lame?
Sucka, you cannot sustain the rain
Tech N9ne is such a cuckoo in this
Balla nigga, Strange Music, coupe through swishas
I know a lot of you prolly never knew who this is
Well, you listenin’ to Tecca Nina, soo woo bidness

Andre 3000

Today, I feel electric gray, I hope tomorrow neon black
I tell a nigga all those flows are borrowed, it’s the phar-oh, Three Stacks
I woke up in Cai-ro, lookin’ at stars so bright in the sky I thought they were marbles
No car doors, whatcha call those? A whole carload of raw hoes
In a Jeep Defender, please remember, don’t feed the Simba
Three’s a symbol like nobody, he’s a symbol of what’s safari
Pulled her ponytail to my body, she’s the only girl that was smart e…
…nough to call me Mr. Benjamin in the middle of a wild party
Skin was cinnamon, I pound it harder, how come the only girls that are thought of
Are the light ones? Well, tonight, then, we gon’ do it, do it, do it for the dark ones
It’s important that you are more than welcome to the Carter IV and
Y’all enjoy it, I will go ‘head, and I’ll kiss y’all on y’all forehead
Out