The Diplomats

The Best Out

The Diplomats


[Hell Rell]
Okay,okay,okay 
Yes sir 
Hell Fuckin Rell, 
J.R. Writer, Forty 
This is how we do it 
I am one of a kind(yeah) 
Its now or never nigga 
Times up muthafucka 
Lets do this 

[Hell Rell] 
Aiyo, I stop paying for coke, get bricks on the muscle 
Gorillas on they bullshit, Welcome to the jungle 
Fiends get served in the hallway, welcome to the hustle 
Where bitches do anything for a hit of that glass dick, 
When Im outta town, nothing less than a half brick, 
One-Sixty on the dash nothing less than a fast whip, 
I floss when its sunny, got money for a rainy day, 
In the dope spot a few blocks from where the Yankees play, 
Man Im heavy in that BX borough, We aint gotta front for nobody, 
We just thorough, and Im sittin' on an arsenal, rockets and the missiles, 
Took my advance and got my strip poppin with them nickels. 
And when Im in ya neighborhood, you gotta go hide, 
Deliver bullets to ya door like them Domino pies nigga, 
say hello to my little friend like scarface, 
I pull that fuckin rifle right out the guitar case

[Chorus: Bezel]
Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he fresh out 
Jones the kuffe smacker, He bringing them techs out 
Sporty-style, Forty Cal, He bringing corvettes out 
Bezel the Beast but I still show you what fresh bout 
You know who shavin the grams, 40k on the hand 
Killa Nigga, what more can I say about Cam, 
J.R. the Writer of writers and Santana, 
Back like cooked crack 
He even supplying suppliers 

[J.R. Writer]

Dipset, lets do it man 

The type that im tighter, tight cause im writer 
write cause im nicer, site for the lifers 
knifes in the cipher, writers a viper, 
listen this is butter, 
even ringling brothers see i got the eye of the tiger 
before i met killa cam, i was dealing killa grams 
i mean killer grams, throws a tan, fill a pan 
recorded in the hole, where you couldn't chill or stand 
no booth, microphone hangin off the ceiling fan 
mass million fan sittin in the belly hilton 
watch how i heavy kills him, bessey,chevy,desi fill em 
but i still aint break a sweat, yes Im chillin, 
Veet wong, seat wrong, tito gonna bet the building 
I been grind to lean, sniff lines for fiends, 
grams chopped, tan rock, I pitch lima beans 
Piff grind was mean, had em dumb stuck, 
so when i say uncut, i dont mean behind the scenes 

[Chorus] 

[40 Cal] 
40
Yo Im a NY G like Jeremy Shockey, 
come through drop my coupe like i meant to be sloppy 
I got DJ's kickin karate, 
cause they throw my wax on and take your wax off like Mr. Myagi 
Pimpin, Im cocky, I slap your broad on the cheek 
and send her home barefooted, you massaging her feet 
you probably go down on a freak, youre hardly a meat 
but we aint mad cause your proving, you are what you eat 
your squadron is weak, speak and get a broken something 
need a plate in ya grill like a toaster oven 
fuck it, they even got dojas frontin
shakin your cola, only time your coke was bubbling cousin 
Cal get weight wit no problemo 
ride around ya block, sell it out the car window 
and ya moms been know, that I chop rocks 
that make your father cop like Carl Winslow 

[Chorus]