I’ve been wanting to post this verse for a while now. I don’t even know if people even remember Oschino from State Property but I do and he spit this verse during that Rocafella/Hot 97 takeover that was sooo real. His flow ain’t the best and that Oochie Wallie Beat don’t help it either but if you listen to the words they are so real. The imagery and the reality of his story is crazy. When I heard this I was like damn. Peep

Flip, bounce, re-up and move it again
Last seconds of the game and I’m shootin to win
look at the arc, the form, and the way it release
it’s all butter like them seats up in them Jeeps
I’m a Rocafella dude, too proud to beg
buy trucks and get rid of weight like Jenny Craig
buy glocks, take shots, never the leg
trying to put me on deathrow like the Lady of Rage
stay strong, but I couldn’t sleep at night
I was, praying to God they ain’t give me life
life is life you there to the day that you die
you ain’t leaving on your feet you leaving up in the sky
mean time back at home, back the streets
like “when I get out how the f%^k I’ma eat?”
get a job? a 9 to 5?
or get 9 for 55 and get on your grind
it’s like 2 thousand inmates, 200 guards
so you know it ain’t safe when you out in the yard
and you there all year from summer to fall
winter and spring
the n^$%a still stuck in the bing
he fightin his case
commissary, suits with case
everytime you go to court they postpone the dates
they say when you die, you might go to hell
nah you hell when you stuck in the cell
everyday you wake up you still stuck in the jail
more time go past and you get less mail
I wasn’t trying to go back, I wouldn’t take the chance
to get that orange jumpsuit and that new wrist band
like Oscar The Grouch, they got you locked in the can
some F they man, some F they hand
and you can tell the thorough n%^$as cause they all got heart
and you can tell the mook mean by the —– mark
Tims scuffed so bad you would never know
having 10 years in and forever to go
ain’t ish to do in jail but look at the wall
art screen turn so what’s up with my car
you stuck on the block
you watchin the clock
when you came you was young and wild, now ya a%$ startin to rott
3 nasty a$# and a beat up cot
you on deathrow without Suge, Snoop, or Pac
your name ya number
days is numbered, pain and suffer
streets done changed a lot since the ’68 summer
I can’t give em advise what F i’m tell em
he been down for more years than Mandela
he bout to lose his Cerebellum
he tired and sick
a tall wall, barbwire, gates, and bricks
he’d give his right arm to get back to the streets
cause his Cellie feet stank and he smack when he eat
even though he got life, he still look brave
he tired of checkers and chest, the n^$#a cheatin in spades

The audio is posted below, pardon my back for the other verses, holla at me for the other freestyles ! HOLLA!