Op de Distip

Sucker, I'll drive you crazy and break your neck
You think you're winning but you're just wack
So bow down 'cause this style is rough
You'll be speechless as I beat your feet
You'll start running
I'll find you without any trouble
'cause you're not original to take a hike
Bitch! My fist is in your face, you surrender
'cause my shit is aimed at you.

F***ing f***ing f***ing f***ing f***ing Seda,
From above Amsterdam to below Breda.
I never diss someone without reason,
if you're dead, you'll be six feet under.
'Cause I don't just diss you, I diss you hard,
(and aim) beats at your head, I hit you straight through the heart.
'Cause I don't joke, I'm not a clown
(not full of) crap -- well, shut 'em down --

So get off your back punk and step the f*** back,
get your own style, don't use me as a ...
...
... you seem like ...
So lay down, duck away from the rhymes I say
for the suckers who feel targeted: (Go) away!

This is S.E.D.A. (Pop, go ahead), check out your s***ty stuff!

You can't mess with us, 'cause then you'll catch beatings,
'cause the so-called men who want to hang with us,
The King messes them up, Yo!, Osdorp on the move,
Yo King! I've had enough.
Of being stabbed in the back by suckers who talk
bad about me when I'm not around and
backstabbers, not fakers
No ... but the Osdorp Posse (back) intruders.

Damn, you think ...
and if you want to crush us, 'cause there's the line,
get in the back and make room for the suckers
who come from the front and have left.

You grab the mic over my dead body,
with stereotypical anti-white crap.
About what you're supposed to say as a rapper,
... problems you don't even know
Lay down for the rhymes I say,
for the suckers who feel targeted: (Tough luck)

This is S.E.D.A. (Pop, go ahead), check out your s***ty stuff!

I took your b**** on a picnic,
we ate fish sticks, I drank a cup of tea,
then my d*** got hard, I got a d***lick
and then I came all over her face.

- Yo Def P, stop what is this?

Let me go, I'm on the distip
I give every nitwit a pit dip
and in a snap I'll make your lip swell, d***!

My patience is gone, I kick and knock
that pop out of your head.
F*** everyone who gets in my way,
'cause I'm a tough nut with a rough edge.
I'm not saying I'm dope, I prove it, - yeah -
so I don't ask for respect, damn it I demand it! -- YEAH! --

Yeah, my lyrics are bold,
but no sucker in the world who lowers me,
or fades or attacks
'cause I know that fear gnaws at you,
that the G.G.D. will take you away soon
and Ijsblok will deflower your little sister!

Every sucker who never talked to me
is suddenly nice and asks for a free
CD and then says, "What's your name?"
You were never a friend, so get lost, you know.

And then something I always come across,
that talk behind my back about the color of my skin.
You think you're better than Def,
you don't know you're wack.
But by shouting out what color you are,
you still don't prove your rap talent to anyone.

You're so eager to make ??,
that you forget to make your beats dope.

And you don't interest me anymore,
because you don't play with words anymore.
And your weak lyrics don't flow as they should.
And then that crap about religion,
-- hey, you can't mess with that --,
if I do it, are you deaf?
'Cause if your f***ing gods really exist,
let them strike me with lightning now.

See, I already said it,
only rap, women, and beer are real.
And if these rhymes are too real for you,
just blame it on us being bad.

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