conversations.from: human
conversations.value: Write me a song called CivilTV Next Up Cypher with the following description: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5drcx1kSAc&t=794Expand Share Make sure the lyrics are different from the original song.
conversations.from: gpt
conversations.value: [Verse 1: Lil Twist]
  The South Side, the South Side, these bitches' mouth wide
  Can't trust a pig informant nigga, run the cop wired
  They set us up, then book me up, you crooked fuck
  Get to the jail, tell them bitches to look me up
  I'm on top of my shit, Red Bottoms like how my shoe tastes
  Standin' from where I'm at, the licro is my shoe lace
  I chunk a deuce, pour a four all inside an eight ounce
  I'm faded now, 
  finna cut a ho off like K Camp
  TMZ on my dick, they swear they can knock me off, shit
  Harvey better chill 'fore niggas run in his office
  Write our own article, tell the people who caused it
  Faggot tried to hide, first spot we shot is the closet
  Crazy mothafucka, Mossberg in the moshpit
  Ever since I hit L.A., I'm wildin' on my Pac shit
  B.I.G., "Who Shot" shit, or Jay on his Roc shit
  "Wop Wop," "Drop It Like It's Hot," "Block Is Hot" shit
  [Verse 2: HoodyBaby]
  Fat fly nigga landing on your runway
  Got the work coming, I'm the black Mickey Munday
  Snowflake fresher than the morning on a Sunday
  I ain't a killer but my homie with the gunplay
  He the type of kid go to school and kill the lunch La-dy
  Damn, crazy right?
  We the typa kids live a crazy life
  We get money, fuck bitches, rock crazy ice
  And it's Young Money Records, ho, I'm really with D'wayne
  In the club drunk trippin' yelling "Bitch, I'm Mack Maine!"
  Boy's insane, top down in the rain
  Holding up traffic, shootin' dice in your lane
  Niggas shot me in my back, but I'm back bro
  No we not a Jack boy, we done jacked bro
  Started sellin' crack, now a nigga sellin' crack flows
  Meet me in the trap, I'll be right by the back door
  You can get a Bow Wow, you can get a Fat Joe
  You can get finessed, I'm from Dallas, boy, it's natural
  You can get it all for a real pretty penny
  Niggas in the hood cookin' chickens, eatin' Denny's
  Hoody [Verse 3: Euro]
  Compare me to who? Compare me to what?
  Compare me to them, I'm 100, I'm not like them
  I'm talkin', been hustlin' before I seen her
  Rick Ross video in that off-white Beamer
  I'm at the bar taking shots of nightmares with dreamers
  Shoot for the stars, hope the moon ain't seen us
  Stepped in the game and I spit that ether
  And I ain't leaving 'til I blow, funny, these hoes ain't either
  Listen, it's February, leave enough time for me
  So by December, I should be a millionaire at least
  The least, take my word, this the year I beast
  And if not, y'all can kill me by New Years Eve, please
  [Verse 4: Flow]
  Rollin' blunts while I'm listening to my Jigga disc
  Smokin', flickin' ashes from the tip of the pyramid
  Dressed in black, throwing up horns for my membership
  White kid listened to my song then he slit his wrist
  I have a nightmare to stop you niggas from dreaming
  I never read the Bible but I watch angel and demons
  The devil after me? Well fuck it, I'm anxious to meet him
  But shh, shh, just keep it secret
  If I join this force, would people stop hatin'?
  Should I rap like this to join the Roc Nation?
  Flow cold like I'm rapping while I'm ice skating
  Somebody get me an apron, all of my time wasting
  I keep it dirty like Chucks plus I'm a little gothic
  I spit curses and spells and black nail polish
  I fuck gypsies and witches, all of my pals' monsters
  Smarter than twelve doctors, sharper than nail filers
  Call Satan like fuck it, show me how hell look
  I take a nun, then I fuck her like a werewolf
  I have no heart, no soul, only these spell books
  You niggas' bitches and hoes minus the girl looks
  I paint pictures with lyrics so y'all can see my thoughts
  Now follow me, in my evil voice
  Tweet, Young motherfuckin' Money
  These my motherfuckin' brothers, not my fuckin' hubbies [Verse 5: Cory Gunz]
  Militia nigga, you know the name
  Cory Gunz, 'member my pops era, the son of Dame
  The fuck is he supposed to call it
  The closer the call is, the closer you going
  I'm claustrophobic, your swagger is (?)
  Mine is poison, I cough a lotus
  Walk New York and show this off, awesome assault aerobics
  You could 80 billion chinups, billion dips and a zillion situps
  I stomp you where you at, til' you chameleon what it was
  Keep me from creeping down the strip bored
  Hit for it, jigsaw, clip board
  Then I rip your bungees at the zip cord
  Pardon my lip lord, can I get my (?)
  (?)
  Goons smoking wools, lining it raw
  Who want it with us
  Let me know if its beef nigga
  I hope you got the coco leaf or clover leaf
  Ain't no competing with these
  Niggas from boogie to bang bang boogie
  Ain't gangbang for chains, stings, cookies and brains hang
  Anythang
  Anybody looking to bring pain, maintain
  Anybody looking to say name, stay sane
  Anybody looking to play games ain't wild or worthwhile
  Nigga just stay tame [Verse 6: Gudda Gudda]
  Never thinking of losing
  Winning is the only option, there's no picking and choosing
  Tackling my obsticals, while I'm high as an [?]
  Made it through the storm, I see the rainbow and my pot of gold
  [?] bring it to my section, no exceptions [?] them bottles [?]
  [?] mixed with  pineapple [?]
  Plottin, so I only got my mind on a million
  I'm [?] about the billions , really I'm
  Passed overdo, so pass over my doos
  That's do to me, I'm  doing me, passing over these dudes
  I'm living, jack, but I love giving back to my fam
  And the fans that show  love and show [?]
  [?]
  I'm your idol, I'll murder any cypher
  My mind is a rifle, fuck your raps, go get a bible
  I'm god, I'm hard, I'm  large [?]
  [?] in the middle  of the garden
  I bet these niggas' pardin, I been killing 10 summers straight
  [?] whips and chains, [?] slave like a runaway
  [?] no E.I. C.I
  [?] these niggas like B.I.G.I.E
  Hitman with a scope, I can hit you from long range
  [?] small change, [?] ball game
  Blood on my cleets, straight out  the gudder, that's me
  My niggas named me Gudda Gudda, cause Gudda came straight from the streets
  I'm a real one, never shook, check my eyes if you ever look
  I'm [?] my soul cold enough to leave the devil shook
  Petal to the metal, got my foot on the gass
  Gassed up, get the pump or a foot in your ass
  [?] I'm too nice when I write these scriptures
  Cause all the fans transcribed them all
  [?] I'm spitting, my pen need penicillin
  I ain't in the right business, I should be writing books, or writing movies
  And turning scripts [?]
  Instead, I get perscriptions [?]
  A couple sips [?] in and out the booth like [?]
  [?] on a mission, I'm itching
  For a rapper to have my name [?] if he worth the attention
  And he's my next victom
  Parental advisory tatted on me, they can't break my thought process
  [?] on me, [?]
  One verse is worth [?]
  I could kill 3 rappers with 4 bars that [?]
  What's poppin [?]
  All my slimes getting to the money, it's 600 ways to die
  I'm giving you a hundred
  I'm Young Gudda, I'm Young Money
  Got old money, take your money
  Beat the fuck out of the rap game, till it ain't no money
  Fuck show money
  [?] I write for a living
  So it ain't nothing for me to write a rap and [?] kill you
  I'm Spielberg, writing a picture
  My mind captures red rum
  I can shoot my words backwards and splat you, that's murder, nigga
  [Verse 7: Lil Wayne]
  Smoke, sex, skate, shoot
  Boy we turnt up like breakin' news
  Let the kids live, baby too
  Blood all in the fuckin' baby food
  The cradle too, shoot the dog once
  Turn around, tell the kids, "Stay in school"
  Leave out the house, neighbors peekin' out the windows
  Show the pistol to the neighbors and the neighbors move
  I don't give a fuck about a nigga's caregiver
  I be with them niggas that'll fuck their stepsister
  I be with them niggas that'll kill your caregiver
  I'll do Brazilian wax on a hair trigger
  Lord I think I need a hitman
  Tell Biggie I'm a big fan
  My pockets on Biggie Smalls
  Your pockets on stickman
  I just came from the gun store
  I swear I spent about 10 grand
  Now the parents wearin' black clothes
  And got your homies wearin' shit bags
  Think I need a hitman
  'Bout to go kidnap a rich man
  If he don't give it up we chop him up
  And send his body parts to his house gift wrapped
  I think I need a hitman
  I can't trust the next man
  Thank Lord for my weedman
  But right now we're playin' phone tag
  I'm doin' 40 down the boulevard
  I told my homie he gon' take the charge
  He got the Tommy and I got the MAC
  And on your head they got a contract
  I thank you for my hitman
  And tell Pac I'm a big fan
  I sang "Dear Mama" to my dear mama
  And sang "Hit Em Up" to my daddy's bitch ass
  I thank you for my hitman
  'Bout to go kidnap the big man
  As you can see I got big plans
  Big plans to be the big man
  40 down the boulevard
  With my homies, they gon' take the charge
  Say, "It's nothin', boy I got your back"
  Because them other niggas copy cats
  I thank you for my hitman
  This for all my fans that been fans
  I'm so sorry, I'm so fuckin' sorry
  I'm so sorry for the weight like Slim-Fast
  Stick MDMA up a bitch ass
  AT&T, ass, tongue and tit man
  Oh, oh shit, man
  Your pockets on stickman
  [Verse 8: Lil Wayne]
  It talk like a killer, it walk like a killer
  It must be a killer, I must be a killer
  Hustlin' Priscilla straight out of the villa
  I got more customers shoppin' at Dillards
  Don't fuck with these niggas, I don't know their names
  Fuck these niggas, I don't give a damn
  Fuckin' with Wayne, Talkin' to Wayne
  You talkin' to Wayne is like talkin' to flame
  22 pop for a brick in the drought
  You can't buy the chicken then please chicken out
  Or if you snitchin' we will sniff it out
  You'll get found at your house, put your dick in your mouth
  Dope, skinny ass sweats
  Got a strap wear that bitch on my back
  I walk in the mall with that shit on my back
  With my bitch hollerin' 'bout, "I want this, I want that"
  Ooh, mulah
  Like la, la, la, la, la, la Too much Cubana up in me cabana
  Too much white china and Columbiana
  That Columbiana, Zoë Saldaña
  Fuck, hollup
  I'll be right back, keep the lights on, baby
  Leave the lights on, baby
  Them niggas play, they'll get wiped off, baby
  Like Lysol, baby
  I pull up on a bitch weighin 138
  Put a bitch nigga on First 48
  Fuck a bad bitch in the first 24
  She take off all her clothes, say she sorry for the wait
  Put her legs on a nigga like a hula hoop
  I go between her legs like we shootin' hoops
  I break a chicken down to some noodle soup
  I buy a Rolls Royce like a Subaru
  I buy a Rolls Royce like a Subaru, bitch
  [Verse 9: Lil Wayne]
  Wait bitch, I've been on
  Top of my shit, I've been thinkin' 'bout shit
  All this lean in my punch got me lickin' a mothafuckin' fist
  Lord please don't let my ice melt
  Muhfuck these dog hoes
  But this 9 on my right leg
  Times get hard, nigga I could sell crack to a white egg
  Sell wrong to a right aide
  Nigga it's Carter time and niggas horrified
  It's glorified in this bitch
  Prioritized and immortalized
  I'm on the borderline and it's thin
  Hold up I'm lightheaded like a kite, baby
  I might, maybe, get life, baby
  My light shady, my rice, gravy
  My nights daily, my life's crazy
  Lil Tunechi, bitch