The Big Hash – Freestyle (J Molley Diss) + Lyrics



On this edition of Stogie T’s Freestyle Friday series, mounts the mic and things might have taken a twist with “Freestyle ( Diss).”

There’s a new beef brewing in the world of SA and it is one between leaders of the new school, and .

The former whose real name is Tshegetso Reabetswe Kungwane obviously packs the bars and lets rip of the entirety of his lyrical prowess and content on the latter on this venture.

Especially as he is still dominating the trends off the recent premiere of his “Life + Times 2 EP,” so you know he currently controls the buzz on the streets.

There would be holding nothing back though as threw the finest of the deft punches and slams. It is only left to be seen if would issue a response at this time.

Whichever way, you can already check out the lyrics of the scorching attack below while you stream and download. Also join the conversation with your thoughts in the comments section.


LOL you autotune sad boys coming after me,
Someone shoulda told Hash a synonym for GOD,
keep my name out your mouth,
nigga it’s blasphemy,
got plenty connects and goons ready to blast for me.
I’m white hot, you got hot coz you rap and you white,
I took a jab at you on a song, but out of respect,
I called you as a homie to tell you the other night,
Put out a response, two wrongs still don’t make a right.
You said it was cool, but clearly something got you tight.
Ignoring my texts and calls for catalogue fights,
I’ll eat you alive, you ain’t even top 5, not even Top 25, I can’t beef with no Rice,
Plus I got, better hooks no Ray Rice,
Your pen game pretty good but you ain’t that nice.
You ain’t even from the hood, if the rap game don’t work for you the other part of your handle is career advice. Aight?

Settle down. “Friendly competition”
I don’t need to bring you up to be in this position,
I don’t need to backpedal,
why you talking like you got medals,
you went triple copper on your last tape,
What’s your issue?
Don’t try to play foul nigga,
I put a nail in your coffin,
you play with nail files nigga,
Tell the world you been a wannabe 8 Mile nigga.
If anything sonically I’m like 8 miles ahead of you nigga,
Give a fuck about numbers,
Give a fuck bout my looks,
When I get into the booth, they be like “that nigga cook”
You the most overrated, I’m the most overlooked,
Coz I never bothered to play by the industry book.
I don’t go out to the clubs where they showing you love,
Getting a tat on your face don’t really make you a thug,
Don’t ever think you’ll go bar to bar with me nigga,
If you do, then your name says it all, boy you must be on drugs.

Then you must be on Cocaine,
Come for me again, my pen ink made of blood stains.

Lemme take the high road, onto a higher plane,
This should teach you to never ever speak of my name in vain.
Pray for your sins, bow to me to or disengage,
Or feel another 16 bars of my full rage.