Communism vs 22 Twos

[Drew Wonder]

what was the better song/had the better wordplay?

So check it out, yeah
Chick-a chick-a I'm
Chick-a chick-a on
Chick-a chick-a my
My, own shyt
Like an entrepreneur, that stepped in maneur
Man I'm newer than a Jack I went up the hill with Jill
And Jack chills big bootay
But then the booty up, I told the bytch she better have my money
Or step to the AMG
You know Com Sense, oh yeah him be
That nikka that be making all the bid-by-by-bye sounds
But since then, Common calm down!
I'm on some calm shyt watch Com get complicated
Simple motherfukkers say the way that Com communicated
Was too complex, I got a complex not to complain
On my brain no complain and so will my community
And I prefer compliments
So I complement at an angle, of ninety degrees

It's the nineties, and music got known for grease
I got a sense of direction and a compass
Come past MC's with compassion, though I heard the screams of
But I ain't shy, so why shall I comfort
Commiserate at the fort with Jeff I'm so ill
But I chilled in my compartment with no company and no meals
Now Com can get the panty, but I want my own company
And Com is on a mission not to work for commission
It's a common market and it's so much competition
But to me, competition is none
To my comp I'm a ton I get amped like Watts in a riot
My compact disc is a commodity, so buy it
Instead of competing with Pete
Com compromised, Com made a promise
Not to commercialize, but compound the soul
Without the elements, compelling sense into Communism

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Can I kick it? (Yes you can!) [repeat 3X]
Y'all motherfukkers musta hear that Tribe Called Quest, let's do it again
Can I kick it? (Yes you can!) [repeat 3X]
Well I'm gone... check this out
Too much West coast dikk-lickin, and too many nikkaz on a mission
Doin your best Jay-Z rendition
Too many rough motherfukkers, I got my suspicions
that you're just a fish in a pool of sharks nikka, listen
Too many bytches wanna be ladies, so if you a hoe
I'ma call you a hoe, too many bytches are shady
Too many ladies give these nikkaz too many chances
Too many brothers wannabe lovers don't know what romance is
Too many bytches stuck up from too many sexual advances
No question; Jay-Z got too many answers
I been around this block, too many times
Rocked, too many rhymes, cocked, too many nines, too
To all my brothers it ain't too late to come together
Cause too much black and too much love, equal forever
I don't follow any guidelines cause too many nikkaz ride mine
so I change styles every two rhymes, hah, what the fukk
That's 22 too's for y'all motherfukkers out there, yaknahmean?
Shall I continue? Check it out, what?

Can I kick it? (Yes you can!) [repeat 3X]
Well I'm gone... yo, yo, yo
Copped to reach my quota, push rock, roll up smooth like on ya
Whole groove like hold-up, swoll up
Too many fakkit nikkaz, clockin my spendin
Exercisin you're, gay like minds like Richard Simmons
If you could catch Jay right, on the late night
without the eight right, maybe you could test my weight, right
I dip, speak quicker than you ever seen
adminster pain, next the minister's screamin your name
At your wake as I peak in, look in your casket
feelin sarcastic, "Look at him, still sleepin"
You never ready, forever petty minds stay petty
Mines thinkin longevity until I'm seventy
Livin heavenly, fukk, felony after felony, what?
nikka ya broke, what the fukk you gon' tell me?