Текст Fred The Godson – You Played Yourself Freestyle

(Shawn Prez, what up?)
Huh, I’m the best line for line, bar for bar
I keep tellin y’all the same thing (Jerz what up?)
Mr. hip-hop quotable
Ahh, I’m ready

I could spit all day
I line ’em like a barber, these clippers is new, Chris Paul trey
Custies know this is forte
Have fiends comin’ out detox before Dre
I could, I could light a dove when it burst
It’ll look like four lightnin’ bugs on ya shirt
Fred, known to keep the gat by me
Bullets heat seekers, workin’ for Pat Riley
So many styles he get it in, then quote it
But after I write it, you can’t pin point it
Regular, Fred’s a competitor
Magazines quote me, I’m conversatin’ with editors
Flex the veteran
Show me his white Camero with the red stripe, I call it the peppermint
Huh, I’m just great
Might see me in ya hood autographin’ my City of God mixtape
It’s so easy, take a lot to please me
Black truck, system up, bumpin’ new Jeezy
Chick say she wanna pic, seen me on TV
Pinky ring glowin’, said I’m lookin’ like ET
Wow, they know I got mean dough

Might be the realest rapper that you ever seen flow
Clip for the black machine, look like a Evo
When it’s fourth quarter, I turn into Tim Tebow
And every Friday I turn into ten Deebos
Take the Fed footage of me and turn it to B-roll
Mama love the flow and his demeanor
Oatmeal colored Beamer, interior like Farina
Rims all black, I call it the Sarafina
Shoes tip toein through the streets, ballerina
Know Fred in two lines I make you a believer
Told Prez in due time I’ll fill up an arena
They can’t fade him
Rappers swear they gon’ kill me with the swiftness until I Kanye ’em
I bring it back to when Pun was on the block
Flex was in the Tunnel, Big was here with The LOX
OG in the hood say «You the man, B!»
Sippin’ cognac in a Pontiac Grand Prix
If I don’t blow with rap, back to shootin’
Wait ’til I drop like contact solution
Eye drops, Flex, I hope they get it
They admire my skill, no deal, but yet he did it
They can’t front on me
I’m like a giant helmet, your career finna end, why? ‘Cause of me
Ha, they can’t get what they can’t catch
I go over ya head dogs, here, fetch
They still talkin’
Dre Beats bumpin’ Watch the Throne, they takin’ me for Jay walkin’
I was nice since the cassette Walkmans
Pops was in Rikers callin’ collect often
We seen dough
They name my team the Goodie Mob, we was outside playin’ cee-lo
I rep New York and I rhyme so fly
I got lines for the Apple like the iPhone 5
I sell that white girl candy, Godivas
She don’t like M&M’s, Mariah
Flex, B-X still reppin’
Fred The God flow, very hot, 97, haha

Flex, I told you
It’s ya boy Fred The God a.k.a Gordo Frederico
They know I’m the best line for line, bar for bar
Rhyme for rhyme, it is what it is
Y’all go get that City of God mixtape
TBM, Blok Work, I’m gone, B-X
Whatever you need Flex