Frida Kahlo (beats by Weight)

Hop hip

Frida Kahlo has a hell of a unibrow,
How she grew that I don’t know how.
But that caterpillar is fatter than my fattie.
I know yo mamma like it, but who’s yo daddy?

From bad to worse, I rehearse these verses.
Code blue, stat, call up the nurses.
Hearses idle, some dead men walking.
But I’m a Pac Man, keep a waka-waka-wakking.

Hawking my wares, wherever they buyin’.
Made a killing on the Elders of Zion.
Frypan beatdown, got killt with a skillet.
Crashed the kosher code, some goy asked will it
Be the death of you, home? Well, nobody knows,
But these Old Testament testicles can take a few blows.

Foes fall back, weebles start to wobble.
People keep talking, all I hear’s turkeys gobbling.
Some start to sobbing, speaking in tongues,
Saw Jesus in a nacho; at the top of my lungs
I keep preaching these heretical gospel.
Reaching y’all heathens with boy band apostles.

Sight for sore eyes, this vision is sordid.
Zap pests like Orkin, rhymes never aborted.
Sorted out friends from foes with a flourish.
Put rap on a seafood diet, nourished.

Sure as shooting this ain’t the most
elevated discourse ever – so why don’t you shoot me?
Never before have I heard such stupidity.
But it don’t matter, I’m all about liquidity.

Rid of me? Not yet—I last like a head cold.
If this were poker you’d be fixin’ to fold.
Hold my drink, lemme take care of this one.
One more run-and-gun youngblood’s one and done.

Fun! I’m a 4-ring circus.
Got one extra for Angela Merkus.
Lurk late, strike straight, thin gin, I sin,
Got so many rhymes don’t know where to begin

Or end—but friend, I never do,
This brain is wired with a never-ending loop.
Ingrain the sounds I’m throwing at you.
Insane the clown possibility, chew on this,

Don’t choke, best chomp thoroughly.
Don’t wolf your food or this face most assuredly
Will be the last thing you’ll ever see.
Face worth than death, fate you don’t want to be.

Yo B, I got D like Urlacher.
Get hit with this, got lots the matter.
I lick batter from lyrical beaters
Bake cakes with fakers’ Apollo Creeds

Or Pontius Pilates, I do pilates,
With thesaurus and dictionary, karate.
Verbal judo, Ju know what I’m sayin’?
Eat broccoli crudo, smoke cruciferous, slayin’

The wolves that’s bayin’ with ridiculousness,
Proud to say that I’m known as a hot mess.
Loch Ness monsters seek anonymity,
I seek the white-hot spotlight, B are you feelin’ me?

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Swatch

Hop hip

 

I’ve already arrived, but I keep on moving
The sound of my own wheels turning is soothing.

Grooving my mind along to this smooth vibe.
If you’re feeling it the way I am, then gimme five.
Or gimme a Jackson or a Hamilton or a Grant.
The flow I got makes ladies lose their pan-ties
I make it rain underwear.
Angel don’t know and the Devil don’t care.
Fair enough, yeah, I’ve probably fouled out.
I come north but my brain went south.
Mouth that roared, mouse that soared.
Riding my bike I’m getting windowed and doored.
Sword swallower couldn’t stomach what I got
There ain’t no point, Sir Lance-a-Lot.
I eat Lance crackers from vending machines
It’s a Southern thing, y’all know what I mean?

Mason-Dixon, I’m fixin’ to cross it.
I reckon I’ll get my some Spanish moss, it
Grows on trees, down Florida way.
I come to Chicago, seeking a smarter way of living
Now I got four seasons worth.
Went to shoveling snow from riding surf.
Dearth of intelligence, that’s what some a y’all ‘d call it.
But life’s like a two-by-four, you got to saw it.
Some got a hatchet, some use floss.
Me I’m gnawing my way through like a buck-toothed moth
Ain’t too pretty but I gon’ get her did.
Mouth full of sawdust, you can’t rid of me so easy,
I’m an obstinate insect.
So damn smart I’m might be defective.
Say “Time flys” I get me a stopwatch
Clock ‘em in the 100 meter, believe it and watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
Don’t believe me just watch.
I got a pink and green Swatch.
Don’t believe me just watch.

I knit swatches of words into quilts.
Throw cover throwdown, stitch and bitch with MILFs
Bills getting bigger and so is my crib.
I’m so damn old I remember women’s lib.
I’m so glib I got my own language,
Used Adam’s rib to make me a sammich.
Famished? Then get a taste of prime prosciutto.
I’m filet mignon of tube steak, you know
You can’t find better than this cut of meat.
Best believe it, I’m beyond belief.
King of the organ meat, Schenectady butcher,
Demi Moore didn’t ride on Ashton Kutcher
As hard as I push it when I get the flow goin’
If I’m a Girl Scout cookie, I’m an angry Samoan.

Dizzy (beats by The GeekSquad)

Hop hip

You got dizzy, I got busy with your girlfriend
Circular logic, I whirl peas without end.
Metta World Peace changed his name back to Artest
Just to get with this goodness, y’all must confess
Don’t know what I’m sayin’, but it’s got that certain,
How do the French say, “behind the curtain”?
Door number 1, I mean, “Menage a trios,”
Door number 3 and whore number 3 got me so hard
I’m bout to break, bout to blow the scene up
The next backpack rapper that say, “Yo, ‘s’up?”
Is fixing to get an earful of fredlicious flow.
It’s nothing you’ve heard before, nothing you could know
About—about time, time flies, flies die.
I smote insects got a bug-zapper eye
Ball—I’m ballin’ here, I’m a menace to tennis.
Ping pong quick wit, so far from senescence,
Evanescence, I make fools disappear.
Pull a rabbit out your ass and dead presidents from my ear.
Making money, they call me The Treasury.
My 3-pointers fly so smooth, so feathery.
Leather never felt so good in the net.
Never touch iron, do it clean, that’s what she said.

Freddy Flow flows, that much is certain
Pay not attention to that man behind the curtain.
Alertin’ y’all to a new way of thinking
Sinkin’ Battleships, G-5 like Lincolns.
Winkin’ at pirates, the parrot got nasty,
Mother buccaneer, birdbrain, avast ye
Sea dogs, seamen, I’m flush with C-notes,
So well-tailored even my briefs are bespoke.
Already spoken for, I’m booked for years
I’ve got more green than Iowa’s got ears of corn,
Just informing you, an FYI
Future porn star, girls got an eye for this straight guy.
Don’t sleep on this, ain’t no Posturpedic.
I got what you want but you might not need it.
I’m so gratuitous, like a gratuity
Keep these rhymes flowin’ in perpetuity.
The hip-hop game is somewhat new to me
But you’d never know by this flow, I’m Mookie B.
B for Blaylock, I’m an old-school baller,
On the come-up, comin’ out the holler.
Into the light, out the redneck backwoods.
Don’t pack heat pack lunch split wood
With one mighty blow, but never split an infinitive.
Flow like Flomax, I spit it infinite.

Keep it rolled underneath me

Hop hip

 

Girls are burning with optimism’s flame.
Gamed the system, Miss Pessimism’s claim to fame is:
That she knew me back when.
Trees fall in the forest, I’m all about the zen.
Got a yen for y’all and a lust for life.
Took two in the morning, took a third for a wife.
Third time’s the charm, got a four-alarm fire.
Plead the fifth, get my drift, arouse ire.
Aspire to greater heights, where mighty mites tremble,
Can’t nip these ankles, I never dissemble.
That means “lie,” some-a y’all better look it up.
Tectonic plates about to subduct
got nothing on me, I’m deep like Dante.
Open more doors than Monty.

Get caught in this maze, I ate all your cheese,
Set phasers on “stun,” catch this disease.
Can’t match my release, I never get sacked,
Unfair like the 12th man, that’s just the facts, Jack.
Maximum wage for the minimum work,
Never choke my chicken, I put on the jerk sauce,
get tossed like a Caesar salad,
Like a one-hit wonder gonna sing this ballad
Over and over till the hooks get pallid,
Foul is fair and fair is fouled.
Just fouled out but I don’t play Hack-a-Shaq,
Ref blew the whistle, illegal crackback.
Stack up my sins till they reach sky-high,
Anointed with ointment, I am the fly.
Sigh—not another plain white rapper;
But me, I’m eponymous, like Charles R. Crapper!
He invented the toilet, I reinvented myself,
Flush with success, I reinvent wealth.
It ain’t about Kristal and finger sandwiches,
More PBR and sloppy joe manwiches.

Damn, got switched, separated at birth,
Fell from Graceland back to earth.
Surfed a tsunami, got me some yoni,
But stuck with tuna, ‘cuz the phony baloney went bad
right about when I got good.
Wood in the morning never misunderstood.
Foot on the table, nine inches underneath it.
Got good genes that my daddy bequeathed me.
Y’all can’t see it, keep it rolled up beneath me,
Made all the girls swear they’d never leave me.

Constantinople (beats by blestbeatz, https://soundcloud.com/blest79)

Ever'thing, Hop hip

I don’t spit like those other rappers, just let my freak Freddy flow.
All it takes to make it’s 4 strings and a bow.
My violin’s never violent, rarely rocked ponticello,
Strings never burning, never, What’s that smell, yo?
Hell no and heaven yes, I’m gon Biblically do this,
One man’s Jesus is another man’s Judas.
Like the Old Testament I bring it Hebraic,
Lies get circumcised as quick as they say it.
Decimate the dudes who decide to sow violence,
Finger to my lips . . . silence.
Incense and peppermint, I’m a cool breath of freshness.
Windy City stiff breeze, look up this reference.
Deference is due me, like an overdue library book
dime a day adds up, better take a look.
I’m not a bestseller, more like a dusty,
Old wine in new skins, only liquor stores trust me.
Crusty layers of exoskeleton get crunched,
tasty beetles got fried and got munched.
Bunched-up drawers getting up in some butt cracks,
Not to be forward but don’t worry, I got your back.
Lackadaisical musical interlude,
Cue the dude with the ziplocked quaaludes.

Back to the flow, I’m never fronting,
Rock the mic like a sump pump, I’m really sumpthing.
Lumpenproletariat, go tell the bourgeoisie,
Even the one percent’s getting hip to me, G.
They’re skiing at Aspen on six inches of fresh coke
while I’m getting et by the skeeters in Okeefeenoke.
Ain’t no joke but they call me The Riddler,
I’m up on my lines like gay men on Bette Midler.
Fiddler on the make, got 4 on the floor,
Five-finger Mary, 6-6-6 on the door.
Whore of Babylon couldn’t get with this,
It’s a foregone conclusion, I babble on witless.
Sit less, stand more, I’m wired like a telco,
Strung out on Strunk and White, shave with Norelco.
“Omit needless words,” but I need ‘em all.
Prelapsarian even after the fall.
Y’all can’t google this quick as I bust it.
If I say “perspicacious” you’ll just have to trust it.
Rust belt-and-suspenders, I keep myself covered,
Sans-a-Belt leisure suit, I’m getting discovered.
I’m a terra nova and feeling del fuego,
Not Chevy No-va or sin los juevos.

Mi llamo Freddy Flow, got 1,000 languages,
I’ve blown more minds than noses hankerchiefs.
Got a hankering to yank y’all Fred-ward,
Up in the rankings like a rap Robert Redford
a river runs through it, and I swim upstream,
This backwards flow is not what it might seem.
I scheme to sell ice cream to Eskimos,
Got a posse of polar bears floating on ice floes.