Welcome to the winner’s table. The verses below were selected as the best of the bunch for the 5th Annual NoMaas Rap Contest. Now it’s up to the people to decide who wins the free NoMaas T-shirt. Voting will close on Wednesday, March 14th at 11:59 Eastern.

Many thanks to everyone who submitted verses, and if yours wasn’t selected, feel free to whine and complain.

Finalist # 1: Monteros non ability to catch is so overated

Budget cutting, we spending less percentage wise than the Tigers
Hal squeezing Cash’s nuts like he had some pliers
still charging ten bucks for some cheap lemonade
these dumb fans will still show up, we getting paid

Finalist #2: Nice (Ca$hmoney feat. the New York Yankees)

All you suckas got nothin on me,
Cause I’m muthafuckin Ca$hmoney
Traded Jesus and Hector Noesi
Now give it all up for Joey G!

[Hit it!]

JOE G: All my logic comes straight from the binder
Tell em to bunt if they need a reminder
RANDY LEVINE: I’m the reason we signed Soriano
DL: I’m currently home to Feliciano
WALLY MATTHEWS: I’m nothing but an ESPN minion
LUPICA: The Yankee payroll is 200 million
CERVELLI: I fistpump every time I get a hit
CC: I eat Cap’n Crunch to make me fit
CANO: I got with all the wimmin in Taiwan!
JETER: My interviews make y’all yawn
BMG: Runnin fast but hitting like a girl
IBANEZ: Got a face that makes you wanna hurl
GRANDY: I’ll make another run for MVP
AJ: No yanks fan is gonna miss me!
PINEDA: Throwin fastballs with some sliders in the mix
NUNEZ: Oops, I just made another E6
AROD: No denying I can still hit for power
MO: I take it, throw it then take a shower
SWISH: This is the best shape I’ve been in years!
BECKETT: Just shaddup and pass me some beers

Finalist #3: Mell Hall cellmate

If you got a thin system
I feel bad for you, son
I got 99 prospects, and a Bichette’s one

I got this Grand Street School six-foot-eight-inch dude
Betances throwin’ through steel–Kevlar, too

Heathcott’s heat cocked, scouts see him and go
Slobber like Joba when the firewater flows

No disrespect to Flanny, but it’s Manny’s time to shine
Sorry Nuney, Banuelos changeup f*ckin’ twistin’ your mind

On the farm, catcher stash: One ‘stache is brown
Dirty Sanchez and Romine f*ckin’ holding it down

Lil’ poke for your pu*sy from our big-ass sticks
Slick swings from Mason, Murphy, and the king of all picks:

Son of a Blake Street Bomber,
I’m real glad for you, son
I got 99 prospects, and a Bichette’s one

Fenway, I know this rhyme is gonna annoy ya
Cuz NoMaas pluggin’ these boys like we was Pedroia

Fried bird in his hand, and none in the bush
Josh Beckett lost his rings while he was fingering tush

With Lackey in backy, thumb in his ass
Call of Duty on screen, dying wife on blast

Anus mouth, heading south, yo brotherly love
Human Centipede, Pap’ll be the center one of

Who you got, Boston? Think Iglesias is sick?
He’s Jose with the glove but Enrique with the stick

Meet the home run king of 2021
I got 99 prospects, and a Bichette’s one

Our centaur loves gash, whether human or horse
That’s why A-Rod sticks it to Mrs. Cliff Lee, of course

If you got two in the pink, and one in the stink
Do it like DJ with nine inches in Mink

As sure as Jorge pees freely, and farts got lumps
The Minkman takes over when Francesa takes dumps.

This just in: Suzyn Waldman spotted on Park Ave
Holding her purse, her panties, and a Jeter autograph

Yo, we got a deep system
Pimpin’ Dante’s son
Cuz we got 99 prospects, and a Bichette’s one

Finalist #4: Hey Boston

Ya’ll yell “steroids” when Alex comes up;
When it’s Ortiz who needs a junior sized cup.

We gave you Aceves, Cashman what the f*ck;
So when Theo got one right, it was all about luck.

Ya’ll should take a look at Crawford in right;
It’s good that he’s fast, too bad he’s not white.

You ain’t won a playoff game since god knows when;
The Patriots lost to the Giants again.

Beckett hangs out in the clubhouse drinkin beer;
That fat boy’s a Texan, but he’s sure not a steer.

So what does that mean, are you saying he’s gay?
Who cares, he’s the new human rain delay.

You’ve sucked since your mouthpiece left ESPN;
Now he’s ripping Francona to please Cherington.

The Yankees, and Tampa, now Toronto’s in the race;
This could be your year to finish in 4th place.

Finalist #5: Stump Merrill

Boston’s recedin’ like Jeter’s hairline
Saw Arod with an American Gladiator doin 69
Don’t go smooth to the plate you’ll be balkin
Cashman bangs bitches and they get arrested for stalkin

Finalist #6: John Sterling

That ball is high, just like me
Unlike Jorge, my hands got no pee.
An A-Bomb from A-Rod, or maybe El Capitan
You’ll think that fly to second is really a gone.

Am I wailing Suzyn? The world may never know.
Everyone thinks I’m just another John Doe.
Here’s a secret: You can’t predict baseball
But Mark can send Tex Messages from here all the way to Saint Paul.

A Ribbie for Robbie makes everyone Swishalicious
I still think El Comedulce would be mighty delicious.
I’m not homeless, I’ve got the Lowe’s Broadcast Booth
And unlike Brett Pedroia, I don’t hang with the youth.

Russel has muscle, and so do I,
The Grandyman can, you may hear me cry
Signing off, it’s me, the Voice of the Yankees
One more thing: Suzyn and I do the Hanky Panky!

A special honorable mention goes to MC Brett Pedroia – while he didn’t reference anyone in the Yankees org, he was still gracious enough to contribute a submission

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
I’ve got what boys like

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I seen them looking

I make them want me
I like to tease them
they want to touch me
I never let them

I know what boys like
I know what guys want
I know what boys like
Boys like, boys like me