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Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef | 3 |
| What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother | 2 |
| Ne-gro please | 2 |
| You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic? | 2 |
| Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas | 2 |
| Dick suckin lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live | 1 |
| With Hawaiin Sophie fame, kept my name in his music | 1 |
| You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat | 1 |
| What you think, you gettin girls now 'cause of your looks? | 1 |
| I embrace y'all with napalm | 1 |
| You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention | 1 |
| Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons | 1 |
| Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly? | 1 |
| You, what? | 1 |
| How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips? | 1 |
| Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me | 1 |
| Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh) | 1 |
| In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas | 1 |
| I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class | 0 |
| Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge | 0 |
| You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan | 0 |
| Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin with little Chase | 0 |
| Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly | 0 |
| In '88 you was gettin chased through your buildin | 0 |
| Callin my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers | 0 |
| All I did was gave you a style for you to run with | 0 |
| Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god | 0 |
| Wearin Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars | 0 |
| No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case | 0 |
| You seem to be only concerned with dissin women | 0 |
| Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though | 0 |
| That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow | 0 |
| Wanted to be on every last one of my classics | 0 |
| So little shorty's gettin gunned up and clapped quick | 0 |
| Shaun Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick | 0 |
| Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick | 0 |
| J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick | 0 |
| Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick | 0 |
| And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit | 0 |
| You ass, went from Jaz to hangin with Caine, to Herb, to Big | 0 |
| And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame | 0 |
| Compared to Beans you wack | 0 |
| Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss | 0 |
| Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas | 0 |
| And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas? | 0 |
| And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after? | 0 |
| Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter | 0 |
| Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy | 0 |
| Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy? | 0 |
| You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss | 0 |
| ("Fuck Jay-Z") | 0 |
| Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big | 0 |
| Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy | 0 |
| Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone | 0 |
| How could Nas be garbage? | 0 |
| Semi-autos at your cartilege | 0 |
| Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne | 0 |
| I got this, locked since '9-1 | 0 |
| I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced | 0 |
| It's like an AIDS test, what's the results? | 0 |
| Y'all impatiently waitin | 0 |
| Brace yourself for the main event | 0 |
| What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talkin 'bout me dog | 0 |
| ("Fuck Jay-Z") | 0 |
| You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga | 0 |
| ("Fuck Jay-Z") | 0 |
| (I) Fuck with your soul like ether | 0 |
| (Will) Teach you the king you know you | 0 |
| (Not) "God's son" across the belly | 0 |
| (Lose) I prove you lost already | 0 |
| Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas | 0 |
| Check it | 0 |
| Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) | 0 |
| (I...will...not...lose) | 0 |
| "God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already | 0 |
| The king is back, where my crown at? | 0 |
| (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas | 0 |
| Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches | 0 |
| Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo | 0 |
| You traded your soul for riches | 0 |
| My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous | 0 |
| First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big | 0 |
| When KRS already made an album called Blueprint | 0 |
| This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid | 0 |
| Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fuckin ring | 0 |
| I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten | 0 |
| Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten | 0 |
| Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face | 0 |
| Y'all some "well wishers," friendly actin, envy hidin snakes | 0 |
| With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take? | 0 |
| When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep | 0 |
| To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle | 0 |
| And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it | 0 |
― am0n, Wednesday, 2 July 2008 19:53 (seventeen years ago)
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