Beats Like This

(album: The Layover Mixtape - 2008)

[Montage One:]
Beats like this bring sets together
Leather coats and calicoes, Crips, Bloods and afro picks
Taking money out gangster flicks
Projects worldwide two-step to this
I'ma rep what this is: straight nigga shit
Like a Benz on an AMG kit, with a fitted on the cell
Two feet is one step from jail
Pushing weight through Nevada, God bless the scale
This kinda song, calibration, my digital matrix
Expose y'all niggas like the wig on a fake bitch
It takes this kinda beat to bring it out
And single out the mark niggas, scared of dark niggas
Find me in the park, nigga, with the dark niggas
I'll pull that kinda rank
I'm all L.A. like copping bean pies in front of Lincoln Bank
And getting chicken from Louisiana, think I ain't?

[Evidence:]
Real gangstas can't rap, real rappers ain't gangstas
In most cases, backwards ain't it
My girl argue, she said, "This one's tight"
I'm like, "He's real, but he's alright"
E-V that deal, 'til he old and I'll
'Til he over the hill, won't quit 'til it's over a mil
Shoulda been last year, still
Hit your goal, start another one, I'll
Quantize got my drum all lined up
Some rhymers ain't concerned with timing
I don't ask for reminders
And never ever did well in silence
I couldn't sleep two hours to get to rest
I heard the voice in my head too loud, I guess
Nothing proud of laying in bed
Waiting for sun up over your head

[Mitchy Slick:]
Ev, who gon' stop me? I shot up at his corner
While the rest of the homies switched, I went to mail in Arizona
I'm in the set, hanging out with baseheads, getting it
Sparked up the fumes, addicted from whipping it
This summer, on me, big homie got smashed
Federalis trip, got his kids and they kicked out his pad
No talking on the phone 'bout what I do
'Cause conspiracy's the easiest crime to prove
On juice and a blunt 'fore I make my first thou-wow
Authentic kicks, yeah, the hard-to-see reptile
Hood fabulous, grow house in the backyard
All the little homies want a sack from the trap star
Couple grams over, give a fuck, 'cause a homie love
Put it on the plate, hard or soft, they gon' buy it up
Front it to the homies when they fresh out needing it
No rap success yet, all I got for 'em is weed and fences

[Big Twin:]
People always saying, "Why is Twin so mad?" (Why?)
His daughter just died and his brothers got bagged (Fuck)
Economy is down, and the rich is getting richer
Four corner war, dunn, you get the big picture?
Now I'm on some shit, strap up the AK
See me on the block, I got an ounce of that purple haze
Throw it down heavy, IM3 deadly
The heat that I hold, them shit's be heavy
Shit so big they'll crack your skull piece
There's no peace, that's how it is in my hood
And, niggas wanna give me what they wish they could
It's all good, pop off, nigga, you should

[Diz Gibran:]
My only competition is time
Tired of them weak raps, ease back and listen to mine
What you hearing now is Diz in his prime, the perfect prototype
Model to follow, no glitch in design
Dangled a little payout, got the fish on the line
No intention to phase out why I stick to my grind
It's just a mission of mine, it's well within reach
Substance in the city where beauty is only skin deep
I dig deep, lay you shallow niggas six feet
Very little means still on how to make the ends meet
I speak what I live, reap what I give out
Bodybag beats, it's nothing to put a hit out
Rhyme like I've been out and ride 'til I spin out
Life behind bars, no chance that I'll ever get out
The kid's about honor and love
Women and dollars, parties and pub, all the above

[Styliztik Jones:]
From embryo to O.G., it's the same function
Jumped in the life full of gang injunctions
No fame for the bang that's bumping
Watch out for the strangers dumping, this is angle lumping
All up in your head when the danger's coming
Squeeze the trigger so hard, feel the pain in your stomach
And I can't blame y'all for my own survival
So I stay with my homies like the 12 disciples
Knowing one day, haters might test my righteous
And I don't wanna check my rifle
Knowing that everybody die, that's the cycle that life go
I recycle the blunt, keep my eye on my life goals
My brother got life in Pelican Bay
So I'm looking at the pelicans, inhaling my haze
This is Styliztik Jones, all the monsters know me
And my brother Saint Eagle next to Monster Cody, nigga

[Krondon:]
Mind boggling, the effort a man put forth when he has no options
To my fans on the 'net, blogging
Beware of the fake, take creed, caution
Pre-destined for pure stardom
It's a pre-requisite to be Marvin, huh
Mr. Slow Flow's style I'm borrowing
No dough, then don't call him
Weatherman forecast, rainstorm, cats and dogs
Either a couple or a patch of fog
What he deeds past back or fall
The truth only hurts to those who work and ain't sure
Of the roots planted deeply, roots don't get nervous
Get ready for the devil, settle in for the service
Krondizzle don't have to pack pistols
But still keep a chrome Mac full of instrumentals

[Rakaa Iriscience:]
I knew brown Crips and Bloods and Black sureños
Trini gangs in a tapered khakis but they still would bang, though
Punks with stolen gigs, hard enough to hang, though
Asian gangs with straight A's but they worked the angles
Born in the '70s, the '80s raised me
Reaganomics made 'em richer, almost made me crazy
Desensitized, numb, what it takes to phase me
Nothing less than my fam beneath daisies
Pure wilderness, try not to get killed in this
When hard times spread, it's easy to feel villainous
They think bullets are fly, 'til bullets fly
Never learned to fist-fight, quick to pull that fire
But young man, understand, you're just a pawn
Ocean, seven seas in the world, this just a pond
Your leadership started alright but led you wrong
Pride and power without heat, that's what I'm on

[Crooked I:]
Crooked, I ain't tough, I ain't hard
I'm just hanging out of my car shooting your front yard up
Play the cards I was dealt, we call it hard luck
Play with my change and I'm lifting your boulevard up
Now tell the cops that I chopped up your residence
If they ain't from Dilated, they ain't got Evidence
You know what I represent, Long Beach
If I don't say it in every verse, then that's negligence
I shit on mics, I fertilize the booth, I verbalize the truth
Just to convertible-ize the coupe
I circumcise the roof, a certified murder rider
I murdalize you goofs, yeah
My big balls help me earn cash
I sit in coach while my nuts fly first class, yeah
And all you hoes that'll learn fast
I never trust a nice perm and a firm ass