Goodz vs. Tech 9 [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Goodz]
He questionin’ “Do I rep mine?”
Then when I put this punk in a trunk with his legs and his neck tied
Tech 9 clearly respects mine
Knew he was gon’ lose he just doin’ this for a check sign
Let me guess, I’m maybe a stack to spend
Only question is, is that money gon’ be worth this embarrassment?
You remind me of Rah Digga
A bitch rappin’ like a nigga
Or is it a nigga rappin’ like a bitch?
Whatever it is he’s rappin’ like he’s sick
The funniest thing I ever saw with this rappin’ shit is this
A fuckin’ midget wit’ a beard, rappin’ wit’ a lisp
This nigga be rappin’ like “disp”
Just say I’m the best hoe cause it’s clear you can’t say a “t” or an “s” word
Ya bitch don’t like you, you keep her locked
Soon as her stomach growl, I’ma feed her cock
Your kids ain’t even fresh on Easter Aak
And you buy all your clothes from the t-shirt spot
Damn!
Fuck it, let’s go to Philly, I’m in front of your house, wavin’ the heat
With a couple of butchers that don’t play with the beef
Knock you down, you get up, try to stay on your feet
You should’ve listened to your mother, don’t play in the streets
Now show me fear, I take so much shots y’all think Kobe here
Look at him, y’all know he scared
Of a grizzly, but I’m smoother than Yogi Bear
Ask ya Boo Boo, I’m all in her picnic basket
Judges, you can’t compare me
I’ll demolish these niggas, that’s the truth, dare me
Teacher time, you know who the tutor
Accapella I’m beatin’ this nigga, no producer
Yeah I know I’m better than niggas, show the loser
I’m so far ahead of this nigga I know his future

[Round 1: Tech 9]
Everything ain’t all good like this nigga said that it was
Niggas get shot everyday, bodies get put in the morgue
My man was sports bound, struck by a car where he stood
He used to run track now his legs is all wood
Like I said, everything ain’t all good
I seen some of ya battles, Loaded Lux tried to convince me
He said you was gettin’ money, you was stackin’ the Benji’s
And I thought to myself, “If he really stackin’ them Benji’s
How come every time I see him he got a $10 bottle of Henny?”
We drink Rosé, some shit you can’t do
You get ignorant, we get ignorant, we’ll pour that shit on you
I know ya history, I know the type of shit you do
Niggas fly from St. Louis and you make up all type of excuse
“I would battle, but my sister just got hit by a car.”
“My mom’s in cardiac arrest and she’s about to meet the Lord.”
“Plus my brother’s dead, I’m ’bout to have [?] y’all”
You might as well say your homework got ate by a dog
You soft, you let them niggas show you up
I thought you was a G, you let them niggas call your bluff
Lyin’ on your dick, talkin’ ’bout you got some pussy set up
Call some niggas from the Bronx and get this pussy set up
Where ya hoes? Where ya bitches? I’m pullin’ ya card
And I ain’t talkin’ ’bout that fat bitch you met at the bar
You paid strippers to fuck and you be hittin’ ’em raw
That’s why every week you got that discharge in ya drawers
You fuckin’ moolie, yellow ass Asian skin
Amistad on the boat, you a slave again
Your beard scruffy, tell you that you gotta shave again
Quit bitchin’, before I have to blaze ya limb
You deceivin’ the people, misleadin’ the people
When I give him a heads up the whole New York’ll leave you
Only person you have left is your mom cause she conceived you
Your freeloadin’ ass got two weeks to get a job cause she can’t feed you
I ain’t tell y’all ’bout that time he called my jack
Said he’s doin’ this rap battle and I was the only one left
I looked at the phone, I said, “How much?” He said, “It’s some free shit Tech” or some shit like that
I said, “Pussy! Nigga I’ma call you back!”


[Round 2: Goodz]
Okay then, you rhymin’ to get play, I’m tryin’ to get laid, that’s the comment your bitch made
So I told her to “come shine with a pimp, aye”
Now she stroke my head more than that nigga that’s tryin’ to get waves
I brush her off
Nigga them guns will clap
Whatever’s under “soft” my nigga you under that
So he wants to be me that tough
Watch me so much his DVD scratched up
Like, “Look at Goodz, he ain’t [?]”
Before Rex killed you, nigga we ain’t know who you was
Take it from Reed, take it from me
Ten $100 bills couldn’t make you a G
Shit I’m Rodman, [?], next battle I’m chargin’ cause these niggas hatin’ for free
Hold on, here’s a riddle fam’
Your baby mother was fuckin’ a Wayans brother cause she said you was a Little Man
I love Philly! And we hard around here!
Dingy, dirty, never got a cut, what? Ain’t no barbers down there?
My pounds speak, get found down deep
Meat balls get tomatoes I ground beef
Let the heat off with the potato so the sound leave
Leave y’all a bunch of bagels, fuck a round (around) B
With a knife, catch a slice, I’m Kimbo
Oh shit I’m Klitschko, sittin’ on that bench low
With the tints low, slightly down on that Benzo
I let a whip know, ain’t nothin’ sweet about this French toast
Don’t let your missus glimpse
You a nigga that can’t even assist the pimp
Pass my [?] I snatch feelings, I AM A BOY!, smoother than Katt Williams
I turn Jamaican when that burner flamin’
More fire [?] for hatin’
Slugs, we throw ’em like cabs, toe ’em with the tag
I show him like Fab’, throw him in a bag!
Bag with a zipper on it
For rats, snitches and informants
Gats start spittin’ all this
Fuck bullets with names, nigga my MAC got pictures on it

[Round 2: Tech 9]
You got some fuckin’ nerve or some type of audacity
Revolver classic, shootin’ like Butch Cassidy
Got a word from a source that Goodz wanted to battle me
But make sure he ain’t drunk cause I don’t wanna act embarrassingly
Niggas callin’ my jack, quit harassing me
If he ask me one more time I’ma end up smackin’ him
Guns on deck and when they pop out it’s so magically
Helicopters, news anchors, what a tragedy
Overkill, his face will spin rapidly
12 shots to the head I closed casketed him
I get up in that pussy like a [?]
Flag by your funeral…the gathering
The preacher sayin’ a few words, the music I start blastin’ him
“Turn that radio down”
“The fuck you say old man?” and start clappin’ him
You get booked, you start signin’ all types of shit
Ya man in handcuffs like, “I don’t believe this shit.”
From [?], Goodz that was some triflin’ shit
Make me wanna hurl, type nigga that beat on his girl
Cause she ain’t spend the night with him, he broke so she spent the weekend with Earl
Now you broke, cock blockin’, hatin’ on Earl
What for? He ain’t the only one bangin’ ya girl
She fast, and you emotional, caught in a [?]
She drinkin’ and drivin’ drunk ready to bang out and crash
Suicidal, poppin’ pills, punchin’ the glass
And this the motherfucker y’all want reppin’ ya ass?
I’m comfortable
Livin’ life; Huxtable
Heard through the grapevine these niggas don’t fuck witchu
Oh you mad, you fuck around and can’t stand me, right?
Well let’s see if you can stand this right!
One hitter quitter, Riddick Bowe, Tyson nigga
Window shoppin’, quit with all the pricin’ nigga
I go shoppin’, I see it, I like it nigga
The receipts pop up after I swipe it nigga
When you swipe it, they tell you to re-enter ya code
You come up with excuses, say they got your account on hold
Broke nigga! I’m behind you with loads of clothes
I’ll pay for it, all he had was a Polo shirt
That’s where I met your ex, she had on that Manolo skirt
Slid her number when you weren’t lookin’, I gave her photo work
So your crib, yeah, I been there before
I’m a nasty bastard, I even peed on the bathroom floor


[Round 3: Goodz]
Believe I’m raw, you never seen a war
You should mean it more
You came out too quick baby, you’re premature
Lil’ Tech, watch him crack, throw the time on him, or throw them lines on him
Fuck it I throw them rhymes on him
Quote K-Shine on him
Rap about me? Don’t ask the outcome
Ratchets I’m a beast, blast and pop somethin’
I’m ’bout guns, earn soon as I catch him wet
Tools in your mouth like you ain’t had breakfast yet
I’m a boss and what the fuck have you done?
{put the mic to Tech 9}
That’s what I thought
Hold on, in Philly he an animal and I ain’t mad at that
But tell me, what happens when you take an animal out his habitat?
Little dirty nigga, lyin’ to broads
“I give you cash for some ass” dyin’ for drawers
Me? I’ma man, I’ma die in a war
You ain’t even got four quarters and you tryin’ to ball
Name Tech but he ain’t lettin’ 50 spit
How much slugs’ll fly? He ain’t that curious
Try to go off but he ain’t that serious
I think he freestylin’, soundin’ like Serius
Well, if that’s the case and you wanna rhyme like duke
Let’s take it back to SMACK, I’ma rhyme like Mook
Dot on your head, dot on your neck, dot on your back
We can play Connect The Dots with all the shots I done left
Get you when that .9 buck, rookie ya times up
Start to flippin’ I’ll chocolate chip cookie ya eyes up
Yeah [?] silly thinkin’ he rhyme tough
You’re right, I would stay here and chew you but I got some pussy locked up

[Round 3: Tech 9]
Niggas wanna go toe to toe with the beanstalk
Hollow tips, dum dums, steam spark
Crime scene chalk, dead bodies everywhere
Come to Philly, Tech 9, I’m heavy there
I shoot a nigga’s legs, confine him to wheelchair
Paralyzed from the waist down make him feel weird
And I don’t care, I’ll knock him out the picture
I’m ‘Young & I’m Restless, gettin’ money like Victor
With ‘All My Children’ I supply [?]
These are the ‘Days Of Our Lives’ you broke nigga
I choke niggas, catch bodies at funerals
Brand new .9, ‘Bold & The Beautiful’
‘One Life To Live’, ‘As The World Turn’, set a flame to your casket
Get ya ashes urned
Niggas wanna battle, but niggas wanna fight
Niggas want the first round I’m fuckin’ Mike
I’m like Lebron in Cleveland and I’m takin’ flight
You the six man, you ’bout to get in the game but not quite
I’m so nice
Hydro, crack vials, I box with rockets
You say I “pack yaow” (Pacquiao)
Goodz shootin’, nobody dyin’, what a waste
He must like the sound of car windows when they break
I done been in the gym right now I’m in shape
I walk around like I got a homi on my plate
Fucka

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