The Wolf Magazine: Issue 1: Volume 68: Fall 2009

Article: "Album Reviews" by Raven Crane (with contributions by Jessica Williams & Briana Prevost)

Top Billion,
Off the Top: Volume Two

The album art on the cover of Top Billion's newest mixtape, Off the Top: Volume 2, boasts that he is the heavy weight champion of the world. However, this boxer has a few pounds to gain before he can make it to the big match.

Top Billion, also known as music industry studies freshman and Monroe, LA native Simon Hill, recently released his second mixtape that features a mix of his own beats and that of other artists' to compile his most testing rhymes. But the grueling 20-track album must have been a strenuous recording session, as reflected in the shoddy sounds entering the listener's ears. The record is far too long and the average listener may not finish it in one sitting. Had Top Billion taken 10 to 13 of his best tracks and polished those up a bit, the album may have had more substance than this lengthy, messily strung together production.

There are some tracks on this album that fans of artists like Bow Wow will appreciate. With boisterous statements praising money, parties, and girls found in "Off the Top" and "Make Her Dance," Top Billion caters to his audience.

In addition to these three topics that seem to be staples in the rap game, the album boats quite a few lines and tracks dedicated to all of the rapper's haters, particularly on "Louisiana's Best," that do a blunt job of getting the message out. Rap fans who love hater-bashing tracks will find enjoyment in this.

But many of the album's other sloppy tracks fail Top Billion's audience. The lack of lyrical variety in many songs won't make much of an impact on his listener. Lines like "I got game like the sports teams" in the track "Cool Kids," will make listeners move on to albums with better lyrics. And in "The Kid the Truth," the beat is clouded by weirdly placed gunshot sounds, and at times Top Billion's rap isn't even on time with the music.

While Top Billion does a good job of collecting sampled beats from radio hits that are sure to gain him a few head bobs of recognition, the idea of the mix tape is to sample the beat, but surpass the original artist in lyricism. Though he does achieve this concept in his version of "Turn My Swag On," by Soulja Boy (Turn My Swag On, featuring Wil), and "Swag and Surf" by Fast Life Youngstaz, both of which are badly-versed songs to begin with, the album's version of "Maybach Music" by Rick Ross featuring T-Pain (Maybach Music, featuring Will) just doesn't match the quality of lyrics on the original. Top Billion should have eliminated this track from the album altogether, or created an original beat to back up the lyrics. Once again, listeners are stuck with a song that could have been better if more thought was added to the process.

The most pivotal track on the album is "I Got 5 on it Freestyle" which actually incorporates some clever rhymes in it: "N----- lie and banter/ Numbers do not/ Women gossip chatter/ Numbers truth drop/ I'm the truth pop/ Nothing like a Tupac/ Won't take seven days for me to die from two shots."

But on a mixtape full of 20 songs. this gem gets lost in all the rubble.
--------------------------


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Lyrics: Great Expectations Freestyle

Intro:
I've been in this game for awhile. From what I know, it's not for the weak-hearted. It's not for those that's just trying to hit that lick. It's not for those who say "I'm tired of doing one negative thing, so let me try and turn this into a positive." 'Cause this could easily be a negative for you, as well. The name's Top Billion. And what I gotta say is when you step in this game you got great things expected of you. And you got to live up to those expectations. And that's the scariest thing in the world... living up to the greatest expectations.

Verse 1:
Yea, pitted against the greats and all types of pressures, my nigga//
Got to be better forever. Hot// Yea, non-stop//
Feel like I'm close to the top I taste pop//
As if they made Coke drop. Are you crazy, nigga?//
It's not gravy, nigga, making this gravy, nigga//
'Specially lately in this recession it's crazy//
The days of caking are waning. The times are changing//
And now they're saying "Top, no time for the playing"//
"Ain't no time for delaying. You got the world here laying..."//
"In front of you. So what you gonna do?"//
"Seize time or let it run from you? Punish you if you let it, dude"//
"Much as we expect from you... Much as we accepted you"//
"And you can't neglect it." Yea//
To be respected... respect the game//
"See, fuck these lames, ya'll ain't even the same"// Yea
"You got a city to rep. They want to holla your name."//
"You make 'em proud at the end of the day."//
So it's like...// Yep

Chorus: 2x
So much that I expect//
So much that they expect//
So much that I expect//
So much that they expect//
So much that I expect//
So much that they expect//
We get... (Great Expectations)// Yea

Verse 2:
Yea, expected to rise, expected to rise//
And take everybody on for the ride// Uhh
Expected to fly, expected to fly//
And let everybody sit up high// Problem starts here//
I'm scared of fallin' short of what's there//
Got goals that'll burn like coals... that's if I grab 'em//
I'm never slackin'. I'm goin' ham with this rappin'//
As if I put the bacon over the track and got to cookin'//
From how it's lookin'... this game's gon' be done in ten years//
And in that time, I'm expected to buy ten cribs//
And let my friends in and get 'em all the new Benz//
And stay up in that studio from ten to ten//
Makin' ten out of ten gems//
The watch lens gotta make 'em noxious when they see it//
Yuck. Be who ya chick really wanna be with//
And who ya niggas wan' be seen with// Yea
Make my parents proud poverty I never see it//
And my bro glad his bro ain't be defeated//
Help my sister up and give her whatever she needin'//
And steet clear of the fuckers who near// Yea
Build my career through the years// Never fallin' off//
Make "comeback" a cuss word// I never say at all//
Great things expected of me - can't list 'em all//
'Cause it seems to go on and on and on and on

Chorus

Lyrics: I Ain't Had Sex in a Minute (Bizzy Body Freestyle)

Intro:
Yea. Top Bill. Post-Valentines Day. You can tell what type I had 'cause of this song, huh. Look, play this song if that girl ever stuntin' on you, man. I know a lot of people can relate to this one. Huh. Yea. Let's go.

Chorus: 2x
Say, I ain't had sex in a minute//
'Cause girls act confused or they just be timid//
So let me know if there's a bad chick in this//
Place that's in need of some good dickin'//
Aye, holla at me

Verse 1:
Aye, she stuntin' on a nigga//
Steady frontin' on a nigga//
Actin' like she Ms. Somethin'//
Can't do nothin' for a nigga//
Bluffin' to a nigga like she down to cut//
But ends up... she a tease from the jump// Yup//
Be up front, if you waitin' to be wifed, aight//
But let your boy know that on sight// Yea
And if you like "Top it's ten months before you get to pipe"//
Obviously you is not Top's type... get it right//
Girl, we all grown... hey, yea, we all grown//
Ain't no reason to even stunt we all know//
You givin' signs you don't want it all wrong, yo//
'Cause I deciphered it and saw it's mis-info//
But I ain't gon' plex up on it//
I know the next gon' want it//
And the next gon' want it/
Now, a menage is spawin'// Ha
But right now I'm yearnin' to get in somethin' tight//
That smell right and look nice// I'm like

Chorus

Verse 2:
Pass the Trojans. Magnums open//
Leavin' packets on the floors and//
Bad chickens pop it open. Leave a nigga's rocket soakin'//
And I'm slopin'. Goin' down in it//
I'm tryna get the most in//
She so damn wet a brother could bring a boat in//
I'm closin' all the doors in//
'Cause she could start get to runnin'//
The dick keep goin'... and she keep cummin'//
I tell her talk to me. Say she "feel it in her stomach"//
Then looked down and say the print through her belly button//
Hey, I'm fuckin' when I can//
Top Billion goin' ham//
Makin' Christian girls say curse words- damn//
I'm usin' both hands. I'm goin' with no plan//
I just cup her booty if her butt can hold a cup// Yup
I do it rough. I do it soft.//
I do whatever 'cept trick at any cost//
And I go at it 'til them street lights off//
But first, I need to know where bad ones are//
So I'm like

Chorus: 4x

Outro:
No stuntin' allowed. Be straight up and front with me. You know, 'cause I don't like playin' them games. Aye, all the bad chicks know how to holla at me. And they know the boy can get up in there, ya know. Aye, we gon' let it play the fade out while I talk my shit. Top Billion. 318

Lyrics: Whip it Real Hard (Freestyle)

Chorus: 8x
Whip it real hard

Verse 1:
Ha! If this is off-season I'm still in the gym keeping it trim//
Gettin' it in just like ya sis' came here again//
I'm skippin' the pen like missin' court dates on the tenth//
Huh. I don't write... like doin' wrong when I can//
I'm always here when you ain't//
I only know one break//
When I gotta skip a take//
To loop the beat for more space//
Huh. Sixteens just ain't enough//
That's light work to heavyweights//
See, I'm a Shannon Briggs//
You's a Juan Marquez//
So don't be hard-heads and get ya hide tarned red//
'Cause we got paddles with the holes and the long edge//
I rock... I roll//
No pots... no stove//
But, my straight drop be that audio snow//
It go

Chorus

Verse 2:
Yea, the track's crackin'//
I'm trappin' in fashion//
No LV's or GG's//
Just a lot of damn rappin'//
You ain't seen no one lately put this much back in the action//
'Cause you ain't seen none you naming with no labels raping their back-end//
I'm back in...//
Back with some raps in the packin' you sneek over waters//
Fly 'bove borders//
And hope co-pilots no informer//
I warned ya'... Top better than any rapper you honor//
And now you argue to yourself that _______ is still hotter//
What part of the game this?//
Man, that's some lame shit//
Ya'll ride the same dick//
Like chick's who monogamous//
But, Top is stoppin' this preposterousness//
After I cook and I drop it//
Chop it, bag it, and zip//
I...

Chorus

Lyrics: I Don't Believe (Gossip Freestyle)

Introduction:
Then why don't you try provin' it? Huh, you don't know how to prove it? Well what you just do is... stop!

Verse 1:
Yea. Uh. Yea.//
Look, I don't believe in no God in the sky//
Why? 'Cause that's a lie like sayin' you'll fly//
Like... sayin' I'll die and if I act right//
Then its... livin' up high//
If I don't... I fry// Nigga//
Type of game is you runnin'?//
You frontin'. You tell me "He" come in//
And do my own bodily function?//
But, I wake myself up//
I got my health up//
'Cause I choose to do//
What I know will keep me cool//
My dude, you really can't expect me to//
Believe that there's something bigger than you//
Greater than you. The maker of you is who?//
Can't be some guy 'bove the sky blue//
Not proved as true//
Nigga, think it through and question for a minute//
Don't accept out just what's given//
Put your mind out to your limits//
And your thoughts on existence//
...How the mystery god might tie in it//
... And after that...//

Interlude:
Think it over. (Think it over)
Think it over. (Think it over, baby baby)

Verse 2:
Yea, I don't believe in no book of prophets//
'Cause every one I spotted had the plot up in concotted//
From start to stoppin' each page in its meant to blotten//
The people from wan' knockin' their oppressors on top 'em//
Yea, Problem: people that taught 'em are the people that got 'em//
Livin' at the bottem... not wantin' to rise up//
'Cause the rulers wised up and learn to divide us//
Quick... by slick shit we wouldn't notice inside us//
So they strike up the party lines and religions//
Sections and divisions// Culture and tradition//
Mens from the women//
But, when in proper vision//
It's property owners against all who work with them//
Not who work with them//
They're all slave victims//
'Cause they're made and forced into the wage system//
Paid the bare minimum//
For the labor they're in//
When workers take the power back... they'll say then...//

Interlude:
Hey, haven't I been good to you? (Think it over)//
Tell me, haven't I been sweat to you?

Verse 3:
Nigga. Yea//
I don't believe in ever havin' faith//
Don't believe in ever savin' face//
Don't never ever ever say my grace//
Never played it safe//
Never baked a cake that I ain't ate//
'Cause, fuck nigga, I'mma take a plate//
Don't believe in brakes//
'Cept in the car or whip//
Don't believe in culture//
Ever solvin' hardships//
Keep my raw shit//
Only in a .rar zip//
'Cause don't believe in shippin out//
On CDR disc//
Utilitarianism is not my style. No//
I'm socialist before it'll ever be up in vogue//
Ten fold times better than your favorite//
Don't believe in bein' "Top Ten"//
'Cause that ain't why I make it//
My aim is to change it if ya mind's done makin' up//
How you feel 'bout this stuff we been facin'//
Capitalisms erasin' and religions fadin'//
What i hope to do through song-makin'//
...And that's what I believe

Lyrics: Money, Means, Happiness (Don't Die Freestyle)

Verse 1:
Markets closed//
Women and children in the cold//
Huh, men asleep on floors//
This how the system goes//
Implodes once the funds go//
Not to rich folk...//
In their privates jets//
Yep, Lears//
Crash time near...//
The "golden parachute" there// Here
This "Free Enterprise 101"//
We recognize economic slump before the hump//
'Cause we been down on ground//
Seein' shit fucked up//
Guess what, not a dime of bailout money on us// What?
You gon' be givin' it corporations?//
You gon' borrow money from 20 other nations?//
You gon' lower interest rates causin' more inflation?//
And people can't get a cent for their mortgage payments//
Fucker, I been hollerin' for this system to go under//
Since I read Marx and it changed this brother//
But, to jolt on revolts of course//
Gotta have a currensy source...//
So I'm like

Chorus:
It's like money, means, happiness//
I put the fact in the rap like I'm packagin'//
Frown count goin' down//
When I'm stackin' in//
'Specially when I'm cashin' in//Yea
It's like money, means, happiness//
I put the fact in the rap like I'm packagin'//
Never lackin' in when it comes to stackin' in//
'Cause you know what the action is//

Verse 2:
Uhh, My chick say I'm materialist//
I say I'm realistic//
I keep my eye on them digits//
Like Neo seein' in code//
Ones and O's// You know//
I want commas in between those, nigga//
Yea the big figures in my picture//
No finger-paint//
I'm on some tapestries//
What you fuck-niggas ain't//
If happiness can't derive from bank//
Tell that to folk with no gas in their tank//
No food in the fridge//
No place to live//
No funds they have to buy pills for their kids//
Kid, I'ont wanna live like that//
And from where I'm at//
The way to stop that's//
To get the top scratch//
So ion't only ride with tops back//
But I provide for the people where my hearts at//
So now I start at this//
Heartfelt-ness//
The law is this...//
"money means happiness in this, bitch"

Chorus

Verse 3:
Yea, nice clothes, nice kicks, and nice cars//
Nights kicked with nice chicks and nice broads//
Nice rings, ice gleam off my bod'//
No shirt, the nice tats on my arm//
Fine things, fine jewels, fines due//
Paid 'em all... buy the beats and I slay 'em all//
Paid 'em off... no stashspot raid at all//
I make the cash dissolve quick like a rophenyol//
Yea, but I still keep the shoebox stash//
In the two pads near the old shop bags// Ha
Gots laugh when I think 'bout that//
Future... let's turn the present to that//
Let's go

(Chorus)

Lyrics: Upside Down

Intro: You know, 'Pac said that bitch niggas make the world go 'round and real niggas gotta do what they do. To me though, that seems kind of upside down. Should be the other way around.

Verse1:
Yea, see why the fake live real die?//
Why do talent flop and wack fly?//
Man, why you niggas alive?//
I'm burnin' inside think about lies supplied//
Limits the sky, huh?//
Upside down... I'm ground-bound//
That's why I'm now found being realistic//
No thoughts the glass half empty or full//
... I'm try'n drink it//
Without no thinkin'..//
I take my swig and I live//
The kid, drinkin' from any//
Of life's cups that you give// Yea
So pass the shots down//
I'm turnin' em upside//
And gettin' a pissed buzz//
From what this world does// Yea
Shows no love to no one//
... Or no one with no funds//
Huh, when death come//
I'm leavin' with a cash sum//
And you can ask 'em//
Top be the last one//
To give cakin' up such a high rankin' up// Look
But, this world's upside down//
And it's enough right now//
To make me upset//
And give up right now

Yea
(Chorus) 2x
I got hopes. I got dreams//
I got hope that they'll be//
But when I note things when it seems//
Damn, that the game's upside down//
Things upside down//
Try to see the picture//
But, the frame upside down

Interlude: Yea, all it takes is one tragedy to change your life, though. One minute you up, the next minute you down. You always got to be prepared. 'Cause you know they say "your darkest moments when the true you comes out." You got to be prepared, man. You know, for them (what they call 'em?)... dark days and bright nights.

Yea
Verse 2:
Dark days, bright nights//
More strife than stair flights//
Sun shrouded in clouds//
Or moonlight strike down// Uh
I'm learnin' right now some real lessons//
That when your fortune lessens//
That's when you know yourself then// Look
You can be stressin' what you preach when eat//
But take away your plate and see what you speak//
Nigga, it's easy to be//
The apathetic when not placed in drama settings// Uh
But put you in that hurricane and that'll change//
Plus all these rapper's main//
Track'll claim they splatter brains//
But when they boy's popped//
They want a dedication spot// Nigga stop
You got to have somethin' flop//
To ever appreciate bein' on top//
That's why I'm Billion//
'Cause I failed times a million//
Fell times a million//
And I dust myself off//
And went hard times a trillion//
Average that out//
And that's... bout a billion//
... But, I ain't puttin' that on the billin'// Haha

Yea
(Chorus) 3x

Lyrics: Goin' In (Put On Freestyle)

Intro: What does it mean to go in? Is it simply entering the door? Is it just coming with a hot flow? Is it just a bunch of nice little punchlines? Or is really getting into that beat? Is it really making a statement? Is it really putting your bars up, nigga? Aye, I'mma let you tell it. Peep.

Verse 1:
Yea, I be that southern nigga blacking out on beats//
And blessing 'em like a miracle//
Keeping it steady lyrical//
Beating them niggas pitiful// Yea
While ya'll pretended like some criminals//
I was gettin' real critical//
On my wordplay and syllables// Nigga
Uhh... Bars had my peer 'ppearin' minimal//
When provin' they're killable//
With 16s if willable//
I used to drill into//
Making these others miserable//
Breakin' these brothers physicals//
Shakin' these suckers mental pools//
Unhospitable on tracks skill is used//
On track to turn this land a desert when my stint is through//
But while I'm here I'm goin' hard as if the rent's due//
...This month two...//
And payin' lint won't due

(Uhh)
Chorus
If that's the beat I'm goin' in//
If that's the theme I'm goin' in//
Can't pull me out or show no doubt//
'Cause I'm in this to win//
If that's the beat I'm goin' in//
If that's the theme I'm goin' in//
Can't pull me out or show no doubt//
'Cause I'm in this to win//
I go hard (I go hard)//
I go hard (I go hard)//
I go hard (I go hard)//
I go hard (Yea)//
If that's the beat I'm goin' in//
If that's the theme I'm goin' in//
Can't pull me out or show no doubt//
'Cause I'm in this to win// (Yew!)

Verse 2:
It's like a dive when I rhyme//
'Cause I'm goin' headfirst 'til my head head burst//
'Cause my head hurt//
Tryna be dead first//
'Fore I'm outshined, rhymed, or timed//
By a nigga who think his style knocked mine//
Not on my grind//
Inclined to constantly incline//
Not to see in time//
Hotness be declined//
Slopin' not my kind//
Unless it's up//
So I get down to lift the game up//
Then what?//
Got a lot of silly mini-me's//
Think they real as me.... trill as me... killin' me //
But they murdered by the similies superficially//
Or I let the millis free literally, nigga//
Top Billi be really G//
Followed by the O-D//
Niggas wanna O.D. every time I'm flowing// Yea
Not a dopeman OG//
...But can tell me dope potent//
It's smokin', chokin' competition holed in//
Foldin' most men that used to be loccin'//
Pokin' holes in frauds thats posin'//
Holdin' folks in lies they throwin'//
Most unknowin... that God been chosen//
Put burner to hoes and...//
Be the reason ya gutta bitch//
Gotta bring the black dress and the rose in, fucker

Chorus

Verse 3:
Yea, Top Billion the future//
Past was my tutor/
Crashin' to schoolin'//
How cash is the ruler// Bitch,
You know I'm cooler//
Don't let the Coke on ice fool ya//
... Colder than seven shooters//
Hittin' day-cares with rugers (sp?)// Bitch,
Top Billion truer than the fact shits manure//
Rap in its (ahh) pure form//
Keepin' all but lukewarm// (Ha)
... A billion swarm// Who//
Billion scorns// You've//
Been forewarned... like square stop signs//
I'm 'head of my time//
But ya'll can rest on shoulders//
Fine... don't think you're supposed to//
To my feet you're moved closer//
Little nigga, I'll roast ya//
Like tryna get tans in toasters//
Don't know how in it you'd slide//
But I could slice you up fine// Word//
And that's my bond (No bail)//
Allah is strong (No frail)//
Go in on it like there's one way there// Yea
The extra effort make a better expert//
So what I exert meant first//
To let me Cornel West ya network, nigga//
I'm comin' at your neck first//
'Cause if I stop ya breath//
I can block plex from goin' in excess//
May not punchline the best//
But blacksout nonetheless//
No light needed when I beat it//
Like Earths I sex// Yep
No type of stress//
I flex relaxed set//
Oxymoronic yet honest//
...The best description you'll get//
These other brothers sweat//
My style naturally set//
I don't believe in being blessed//
I'm the God like Amen-Ra//
Who raw? You see 'em, par//
In aww you stand afar//
Deserve more praise from ya'll//
Than any cure for AIDS//
Just for how I raised the bar//
Like reverse limbo// From//
Keepin' it simple//
To bein' lyrically nimble, nigga

(Chorus)

Lyrics: Return of the Real (I'm Me Freestyle)

Verse 1:
Ha... yea//
Over with for alot of ya'll//
You would be thinkin' I was why the had them towers fall//
Me goin' in is like a crash settin' fire off//
And Alex Jones is conspiracy prone//
But he'll say there no more truth to be known// And it's..
Provin' and shown when a nigga move in the zone//
I'm true to the bone//
Like I made marrow in the flow// Yup
Two time prone to catch you in that two tone//
...Startin' sprayin' like we're tryna put some candy on// Yea
You pack that jammy on//
Somethin' like it's a carry on//
But get that dick in the dirt//
You can even have it buried on//
G may be strong but it won't carry on very long//
...Find your moms more shot up than arms of Barry Bonds//
Girls tell me I should bare it all on every song//
So I make sure I show my ass like when 8 mile is on//
I parry off and on the rhythm like I'm boxin' par//
So haters know I'm not a fuckboy//
... Wanna spar?//
Fuck who you are and you with//
That's your set or your clique?//
We make 'em do like Cam from the Dip//
Yup... split//
And ain't no leadtips in use when I made the best hits//
I leave it all up to brain strength//
And if niggas take it... Pause//
Gods on the ball... swooshin' 'em when you pass it off//
You got to laugh it off//
'Cause you brickin' 'em off the wall//
Yea, bitchassness never what I'm rollin' off//
That's why the flow never soft here//
It reveals the real

Thought I was finished?

Verse 2:
Huh, thought I was finished?//
Well I'm back to come kill it//
Rap as a menace//
Tracks say my name Dennis// Though I
'Ttack with a vengeance//
And don't back up a minute//
I'll have it suspended//
For any last diss... dish it// Ha
Ain't nothin' new with?//
Let's get to it and do it//
The goonies hop on this nuisance//
With nooses and they got plans to use it//
That's who you cool with?//
We catch ya'll while ya'll out movin'//
And pop at you in one movement//
You would swear we's military units//
Ain't no buffoonin' or coonin'//
We 'bout that spittin'- you croonin'//
You auto-tunin'. What the fuck you been doin'?//
Ahin' and Oohin' soundin like a voicemail lampoonin'//
But I ain't sweatin' though...//
I'm check collectin' when this time's ruined//
'Cause now who's rulin' then?//
Mens that steady spittin' tens//
Kickin' gems, whippin' pens//
And on the trends it all depends//
I'm the type to expend a life to bring a cause on//
...Point the worst rapper out//
Watch him get drawn on//
I put the pause on these homo-actors//
Robo-rappers//
Doin' what they're supposed to after//
A&Rs chose their masters//
I'm tryna close the chapter on this era faster//
Than me ever tryna read//
Old Man and the Sea// I'm battin' to see//
Homeruns attributed to he who hittin' it//
So when I start missin' this//
When you won't be ass-kissin' this//
Limitless rippin' in on this beat...//
I could get it in// I won't//
But just to dig it in// Ha//
It's the return of the real

Verse 3:
They say I'm lyrical 'bove reason for good 'reason//
I'm stuck breathin'...//
Still up on the same plane these fuck-niggas be in//
But fuck leavin'. I'mma keep on sneakin' Gs in//
Like I stuck the keys in the plane when it's screamin'//
(Yewww!)... Sound of a lyricist mind speedin'// Ha
You at a screechin halt 'fore your key in//
How you say you got me beatin' or we matchin' up even?//
I catch passes on these grasses//
You bench seatin// Fuckin' faggot//
I was built for this work like a ratchet//
Ya style is all ratchet//
My niggas with ratchets put you in caskets// Uh
And symphathy for bastards ain't the M.O.//
We're like their fathers...//
Pop 'em out//
After that then we then go//
Top Billi really been pro//
You silly willies been hoes// Huh
When you spit flows?//
Thought you flick them pornos, nigga//
Well, if that's the picture//
I got the steel like Lexington//
Cocked for ya man's man next to him//
I'm next akin to the best who did it//
Fuck who in it for this minute//
In a hour they'll all be diminished//
Meanwhile I sit suspended like I acted bad at school//
Send me on a sabbatical//
Because I rap too radical//
Laugh and clap at you//
At the same time the click-and-clack is through//
Dudes'll call you Chris Rock//
After all the latter through// Yea/
Fuck what a nigga feel like condoms//
I bomb 'em... Osam'em//
Smoke clears and it reveals the real//
Top Billion, bitch.

Lyrics: What You Doin' (Shoppin' Spree Freestyle)

Intro: Top Billion in the bitch. Got my nigga Will in this bitch, huh. Fuck ya'll niggas wanna do? Aye. Aye. Aye.

Chorus:
Hoes- I done fucked 'em all//
Flows- I done done 'em all//
You niggas tryna ball//
We niggas ain't like ya'll//
Hoes- I done fucked 'em all//
Flows- I done done 'em all//
We shuttin' down the mall for any cause// Aye...
Nigga, what you doin'?// (What you doin)
Aye, what you doin'?// (What you doin)
Say, what you doin'?// (What you doin)
Aye, what you doin'?// (Man, what you doin)
Aye, what you doin'?// (What you doin')
Say, what you doin'?// (Man, what you doin')
Man, what you doin'?// (Man, what you doin)
Man, what you doin'?

Verse 1:
CMG in this bitch// Yea//
Top Billion the future, you niggas is losers//
Past tense- while -ing always stay 'ttached to the shooter//
Niggas, I'll do ya//
Not the type reserved for cuties with hooters//
But type do ya that puts you below the roses and petunias// Fucker/
A-likes'll buck ya...//
Chew you up and spit you out like they done snuff'd ya// Yea
No homophobia... my money's faggots//
See George attracted to Lincoln//
Lincoln attracted to Jackson//
And Franklin always keep me lavish// Ha
You niggas feel it?// (Yea)
I thought so. You ought so//
My music so fresh niggas think I'm part soap//
Aye, Will, them bitches fuckin' love us//
If they don't love us they fuck us//
If they don't fuck us they love us//
Is we on or under covers?// Hello, hello//
Hello, Mr. Undercover//
When you tired of tapping brothers//
Holla at that CMG// See we be//
Will and me// That's T-O-P on the M-I-C//
True Wise in the back with the G-O-Ds//
Putting money on the table like S-O-D// Please

(Chorus)

Verse 2:
Nigga, I do me so much they say that I'm a chronic masturbator//
I don't pay attention to em//
Just know that I'll gat a hater//
Bust on ya for no reason like premature ejaculators//
I'll have you runnin' for no reason//
Like fuckin' Ralph Nader// (Ha ha ha ha)
Cause... Cause... No matter what you do//
Shots will hit//
Will will empty a mothafuckin' clip//
Wanna trip on me, nigga, see a four fifth//
I ain't even got no fuckin' motive//
Not on your occupation//
Makin' false accusations//
Be off the air like Rap City//
Locked off in the fuckin' basement//
Leave me in a amazement//
When I see just what the fuck I do to ya//
Pass ya ass straight up//
When you think that I'm pursuin' ya//
Scholarship, nigga, it's like ya payin' me for school ya//
Your notice it//
She say she need a priver tutor-a//
So aye, baybay, aye, baybay//
Come on outside and play, baybay//
I bought my shit in full//
He still got in on layaway, baybay//
And maybe you can bring ya friends too//
But I ain't even frontin'//
First I got to get the ends, beau. The rent due

(Chorus)