What's good peoples? Haven't been rappin cuz I've been busy and it's none of your busyness. Anyways this is when Riley, Caesar, Cindy, and even Huey get a bit mad at the little kids makin beats. Inspired by Syllables by Em, Jay, Dre, 50, Ca$his, and Stat Quo.

(They start right after the other.)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Boondocks.

Reezy

Look at how the game is, it's all for the kids

What about us, what about the few who aren't afraid to cuss

These fake ass faggots makin a fuss, I'll pop all you, make you bleed out all of the puss

I've stayed the same but everyone else changed, all the ones with real talent have been caged

They haven't aged; what? They weren't paged?

They still can rap, they can still be tapped, they still got sap

Oh shit, ceez has been put in a permanent nap, aw crap

I knew that all this new shit was a trap, it's just me and hue

Phew, at least I got him, no homo so shut your faggot ass up tim

This aint a sim, this is real, this aint a course, this is the full meal

Ceez

What the fuck is the deal, this act needs a serious repeal

Don't ask don't tell, or you will go to hell

Oh, you fell, fuck you then, when I fell where the fuck we're my men

They left for some girl walkin around talking bout how she's a ten

You don't even gotta rap anymore, just make a beat and you automatically get a whore

Then you ask "What was that for?", that's for makin the real rappers sore

That's for restockin the pet store, cause all you posers are on your fours

Take a good look at the scores, I got four more

I mean albums cause I'm thundurin these rhymes like thor

Hue

Let me change up the flow once more, I won't stoop down to the levels of you little whores

Imma tell you what my life is like, I live in a crappy apartment with a 47 year old white landlord named mike

The thing keepin me alive is what I can do on the mic, me and my girl jazzy can't even buy our little kid a trike

While your kid got an escalade, and you got your own private maids

From your house you can get a good view of my life as it fades

With your brand new Gucci shades, you sit in the kitchen makin a beat

While I'm workin my ass off, surprised I can still stand on my feet

You take a seat as my face hits the concrete, your music is merely repeat

I say that's a cheat, but to the record labels it's pretty neat

C-Murph

Fuck that hue, we're here to accomplish another feat

And all you little kids makin your wack ass beats can go back to beatin your meat

Lookin at mah ass, your face, reezy's fist is gonna meet

Aww, aint that a treat, white girl wit a booty

That's what I call a whooty, but to you little boys I still got cuties

I aint moody, I aint a bitch, I aint with a truck driver named Mitch

I aint a witch, cut it before I cut you and you gotta get stitched

Up, to late to start over so stop hollerin name

Oh hue, your rhymes made me came, "Whoa babe, chill"

Nah, I won't be tamed, that's how I reached fame,

Together

We've stayed the same.

Watch yall think. Tell me please.