K-Shine vs. Tay Roc [Lyrics]

[Round 1: K-Shine]
Yo, I told my niggas I got a new vic’
They said, “Kick his ass”
I said, “The lil’ dusty nigga that battled Clips.”
They said, “That nigga trash.”
I said, “I know, I just hope my P.O. don’t get my ass
Cause I’ma chop Roc(k) in so many pieces she gon’ think I’m tryin’ to sell nickle bags.”
My fifth’ll grab, any nigga life, put a Hawk to it
He leakin’ information out ya mouth ’til I cork screw it
Yeah he live in B-More, but he ain’t never walk through it
Cause he ain’t livin’ in ‘The Wire’ he just talk through it
I said I’d have been Marlo. He’d have been Omar
I’d have gave blue out, you would’ve gave blow jobs
I would’ve been stretchin’, that white tan, tryin’ to make that flow spark
You would’ve been naked with a white man, soon as the show start
Tay, what’d I start? I should buy him a robe
But he got this little image that he tryin’ to uphold
Well you better be swift on your feet before you die on your toes
And yo’ bitch on one knee lookin’ at her Roc(k) in a box like he tryin’ to propose
You was a weirdo, fake glasses, nose full of snot
The nigga the bitches laughed at, gettin’ curved on the block
So all that talk about how you superb with your Glock
Make me feel like Willy Wonka, I gotta put another Nerd in the box
They got lil’ Tay Roc stealin’ radios, tryin’ to dick hop
The game gassin’ him like, “Go ‘head. Be like yo’ damn pops.”
But he ain’t see you peakin’ out the window with that gauge cocked
It’ll leave a nigga South Central like he Jay Rock
His team like, “Tay stop.”
You ain’t got asthma, why you wheezing and sweatin’ homie?
He like, “I was mindin’ my own business ’til them niggas pull they weapons on me
Next thing I know there’s a thousand niggas steppin’ on me
I squeeze and hop in the truck. Thought you niggas was never gon’ find me.”
Now he performin’ the next show through a tube like he Teddy [?]
Everybody think this a nigga that I’ll plainly kill
He just had one foot in the casket, the other one on the banana peel
New screw, had to show him how the hammer feel
So he might love New York but he ain’t never had a chance for real
When it’s time to blam the steel, that TT rowdy, he hesitatin’ to do it
That TT cowardly, but we squeeze proudly
When I shoot like a Coupe, it be off with his roof had that TT outty (Audi)

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
K-Shine…this is play time
You like a pet dog, and you sound like Rex’s dog, I’ma call you “K-9”
Open my ears, let me hear all them Tay lines
About how you gon’ chop Roc(k) up in eight dimes
I heard I lost to Charlie Clips about eight times
He gon’ say it in one of his verses so that’s gon’ make nine
Try and take mine, I’m like a director
I’ma cut, then let him take five like it’s break time
I ain’t lyin’, money climbin’ and the checks be nice
My big loc got coke for the Pepsi price
You was actin’ before you went in the can
You came home still actin’, I swear you gotta be Wesley Snipes
And I ain’t shook for real
I grab my Blade and was Passenger 57 on that Money Train to Sugar Hill
When a nigga say he looked out, look for real
Cause like we fightin’ at a cookout, I’ll push ya grill
When I go to pull out, don’t try to jooks the steel
You’ll get yourself shot in the eye, just like you Bushwick Bill
I don’t know if y’all seen him battle Millennium L’s but
He recycled one of them verses to battle Goodz for real
I did my homework, if not I wouldn’t have known that
You the type to recycle writtens, we don’t condone that
How you battle me with a style and you don’t own that?
Rex need to take time out to tell his clone that
See takin’ this battle gonna cost you one
You got your whole swag from Rex, nigga you his foster son
Let’s talk about your battle with Goodz
You really did the best that you could
And you lost that one
Use your brain, you should be real ashamed
You gon’ get the Kaboom treatment playin’ me for a Philly Swain
Why you think this shit a game?
My niggas bored, used to pistol whippin’ a nigga is somethin’ to keepin’ ’em entertained
I’m like an 18 wheeler doin’ 85 and you like that hooptie that’s doin’ 30, don’t get in my lane
When that Smith And bang
It’s a wrap when you in that box, these niggas gon’ swear Christmas came
It’s the Gang, Cave man clique all authentic
You niggas get shit twisted than you all can get it
I’m that nigga you gotta show that you palm your biscuit
Only don (Dawn) you know is dish washin’ liquid
You know I get it and when it come to a dividend
If Slim actin’ Shady then I’ma crack his M&M (Eminem)
With these I put the beats on a nigga better than Timbaland
I’m the type to give a nigga toast with no cinnamon
Why they call you “K”? You don’t own one chopper
Why they call you “Shine”? You ain’t shoot one Llama
If niggas make me get reckless like a drunk driver
TEC without that silencer, spit louder than Un Kasa
Bet one dollar, that I can have ya bitch whenever
Kick the heffer out the crib, leave her with one slipper like Cinderella
And you ain’t gettin’ cheddar
Give him a brick, this nigga like a paralyzed gymnast, he ain’t flippin’ never
I’m feelin’ better, fuck whoever can’t stand me
That Caveman Gang is one helluva family
You swing on me, I’ma put you in an L ’til this man sleep
Then niggas gon’ stomp you out like an elephant stampede
Now I know you felt that elephant punchline
I got more, you want war? That’s shotgun elephant trunk size
You ain’t on my level, I’m only tellin’ you one time
Like broad daylight, niggas can tell I’ma son Shine (sunshine)
Easy!
Light bars nigga

[Round 2: K-Shine]
You about 10 pounds soakin’ wet
No wonder you get no respect
I should let these golf balls stretch through that cardboard chest
Cheerleader actin’ wild, get his pom pom’s wet
Tryin’ to come through with a crowd, were we all armed? Yes
It’ll be a man down once that four arm stretch him
A Rocky knockin’ out his crowd I’m the wrong (Ron) Artest
You the nigga all the girls used to kick in the balls
Nigga slapped ya face and [?] by ya drawers
You was 23 still gettin’ sent to the store
Now you on ‘Maury’, another son tryin’ to fit in New York
I’m pissed off
Lord knows when I’m so pissed, it could turn into a card game when tote fifths
Slowly let my .9 aim then I go spit
Throw his body in the water, tell the cops to Go Fish
Go crazy with this .8 or I could draw .4’s, cut him like a spade when he go board
Leave him with a scar or I can get ’em all when I pull a nigga card, I declare War!
Now everybody from New York that scraped you intensely
We defuse you like a bomb then skate with ya pennies
You only beat Kaboom to go play out in Philly
Cause you Lebron, you’ll never get a chip if you play in the city
But ain’t [?] that I didn’t been in, I handle my biz
GC said, “Get in there and let ya spirit show.” I said, “No go. I’m ’bout to show his.”
ACS when that drama’s on, snatchin’ on kids
Get ‘Ready To Die’, Notorious, you actin’ all BIG
I’m clappin’ on wigs, leave ’em traumatized
Homicide, that chicken with that biscuit, I’ll leave this nigga mama fried
You lookin’ like you tryna die, ya conscious off balance
They just got me standin’ here exposin’ this cat
Talkin’ that he let off, we know he ain’t wildin’ Tay wouldn’t let it ring if his phone was off silence
Cause you ain’t nothin’ like a G, you just act wild
And you don’t really want this beef, this is mad cow
And you delicate, mad frail
Make sure the coroner put you a box that say “fragile”
You don’t wanna get clapped down you should chill faggot
Soon as the target go bananas I peel at it
‘Takeover’, I leave his grill splattered
Or I give him ‘Ether’ I be feelin’ like Nas with that steel ‘matic (‘Stillmatic’)
Mook what he sayin’?
I should run up on his lame ass, aim blast, let his brain crash
Start shootin’ like Rip with the same mask
Or run up on his whip leave a stained dash
Change mask cause I’m overloaded like a Aaliyah in the plane crash
Bring a chopper through, pop a shot at dude, skate past to a hospital
I split this Roc in two, I got Dame Dash
It be Pac Man with all them Dots but his game frozen
MAC-10 like Photoshop, move his frame over
Wish he would come through icey without that thing on ya
Pull after pull, make his Jesus take it into that head I’m a chain smoker
Zip ‘Em Up!

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Niggas said I should’ve have tooken this battle cause he was sittin’ on buzz
But he’s sittin’ on Earth and I’m sittin’ on Mars
Ya punches ain’t hittin’ hard
Them Similac infant raps, bar for bar bein’ Kodak couldn’t picture that
Wouldn’t happen right?
So why he actin’ like he eatin’ Tay Rocodile when you ain’t got that appetite?
By the way K you couldn’t fuck wit’ K if you was havin’ ya best day and I was baddest night
And nah nigga, I ain’t stingy when it come to beef I’m givin’ out hollow tip treats, you can have a bite
Don’t be slippin’ cause I’m slicker than a patch of ice
The Smith And will take you off this Earth it’s like a NASA flight
My shooters on top of the roof like a satellite
So come to my hood, you’ll get left if you ain’t actin’ right
Niggas got license to kill, no Gladys Knight and before I heard Lil’ Webby I was livin’ a ‘Savage Life’
You the average type so niggas don’t notice him
I know a snake when I see one, you got cobra skin
I don’t care if he 30 deep with his soldier men
I’ll roll up on him and sit him right next to Soulja Slim
R.I.P., forgive me cause I’m goin’ in
I’ma do more than beat him, I’ma over win
And it’s over when your girl see you lost to Roc nigga you gon’ be ‘Living Single’ like Overton
You a fuckin’ bowlin’ pin, easy to neutralize
Since they treat you like you God now you gettin’ crucified
Niggas ain’t mindin’ they business gator suit and tie
In the casket lookin’ like Jimmy Snuka; Superfly
I would ask you a question like, “Do you ride?”
But you gotta be specific ’bout that cause you don’t drive
I hate you, hurry up and die
You a thief, you get followed around in every store like, “Hurry up and buy.”
This fuckin’ guy get me pissed, I’m gettin’ psychotic
I’ma start throwin’ these fists
Mook gon’ try and stop it, Bucks gon’ suplex Mook, Rex get blindsided, I get that whole Mobb Dot-ted
Listen, I been the shit, after I start it I finish it
Erase your squad, only nigga I’m sparin’ is Nemesis
You must wanna have your name on that injured list
It’s my time and y’all played out as Sega Genesis
My flow is sick this nigga ain’t hot he cold as brick, we know you bitch
So why you pose like a G when that photo flick?
After you I’m ‘On To The Next’ one like Hov and Swizz
You wouldn’t be fuckin’ with us if you was a bowl of chips
And I hear you ain’t so legit on the grapevine
I bang out like a car with cut break lines
Don’t tell me you bust .8’s and spray .9’s
Everything you say is make up (makeup), you Mary Kay (K)-Shine
Come to my hood, Edgewood, Aberdeen, I’m really fire; kerosene
Gasoline, where niggas will do you greasy; Vaseline
Give you enough bucks to make the Forbes magazine

[Round 3: K-Shine]
This the type of shit that be killin’ me the most
When these frail, bitch niggas believe the fake shit they wrote
Talkin’ ’bout how he blast off, semi’s with the toast
You Casper when it’s beef, you Friendly and you Ghost
You don’t bust no guns, you don’t cut no throats
When niggas bust you run, fall and fuck up ya clothes
I wish you would pull ya little switchblade I’ll take it and pose
Like Rottermans, flick that shit right in ya nose
His mother’s a crackhead, her sister’s her clone
I said, “I gotta Roc(k) left” and them bitches explode
She’ll shoot her in the chest, she’ll shoot her in the dome
You get served, that’s how I killed two birds with one stone
Motherfuckin’ gun buster, nigga I be that
Had this nigga lung gushin’ where the lye be at
Chest out, arms in, where the IV at
And the doctor gettin’ stressed out, “Where his ID at?!”
Believe that, it ain’t up for discussion you get your whole egg cracked if you come with a dozen
Now you got your shit patched, he can’t even function
He gotta wear a hat that say “under construction”
I’m like Cingular, I’m raisin’ the bar
Your career wouldn’t take off on a mission to Mars
It be like a dealership, when this nigga get robbed
He get stuck with that Mag, now he can’t get outta Dodge
Niggas get cut in jail and figure they hard
When if ya type depend then get swiped again it’s like a benefit card
You a used car, niggas gas you up to ride out wit’ when them guns clap
But your motor clickin’ cause you don’t really want that
Or your seat belt’s broke, you only got one strap
And the battery died and doc can’t get him to jump back
[?] rhymin’ impressions ’bout how he pull his Glock out
At a free bar this nigga wouldn’t give a shout out
Have his head like a sun visor, with his whole top out
Cruise through like on a Rubix Cube I twist his whole block out
You flowin’…down shit’s creek without a paddle
Catch a few slugs in that hat in the hoodie in this battle
You better break fast (breakfast) or be bakin’ (bacon) from the barrel
On the sunny side up, with your whole eggs scrambled
Computer thug, Tay be pushin’ keys
In a chat box
Scroll like a mouse, click on him, make my MAC hot
[?] to the burner, eject out the last shot
Put this nigga head on his legs, he a laptop
I said, “TT it’s time” and he said, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout it’s time?”
I said, “TT I got my .9”, he said, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout ya .9?”
I said, “TT say ‘goodbye’.” He said, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout goodbye?”
He like Gary Coleman, he gon’ say, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout?” then die!
All these chicken heads around me, got it lookin’ like I voodoo
Had the top of this nigga head lookin’ like a poodle
I put that work around you, but don’t let it soup you
Cause if you roamin’ (Ramen) in them packs, I’ma microwave ya noodle
I make his bitch lick her lips, give me good top
Treat ’em like DNA’s and let the hood pop
Fuck findin’ a telly, we roof her like a good rock
Have his bird on dawg (dog) house, she like Woodstock
Easy!
Zip ‘Em Up!

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You ain’t heard me? Then you ain’t heard the greatest
He remind me of them niggas that did they thing but didn’t get that ring
Boston vs The Lakers, I’ll hurt you haters
Or like the Brave when you niggas jump me now and I survive to murk ’em later
Do me a favor, stop actin’ like you guys is rich
I ain’t talkin’ wealthy when I say you guys is Rich
Cause if Rich Porter only knew you was doin’ what you do
He’d put his soul inside Alpo and go upside ya shit
He like, “Roc switched it up.” He’s surprised as shit
This nigga lookin’ heated, well nigga try some shit
It’s Cave Gang, respect and recognize the shit
Or get stomped out like R. Kelly when he was fuckin’ Ron Isley bitch
I’ll murder you lyrically, so how you fuckin’ wit’ this?
Ya sparrin’ partners ain’t even got more punches than this
Kill yourself after this battle, start cuttin’ ya wrists
Cuz you a bitch, fam’ you better off suckin’ a dick
Pause, if it’s drama time I’ma settle it
Let’s talk about how I’m killin’ niggas now and that one loss is irrelevant
Cuz I’m on my shit, better than I ever been
I’ll whip a nigga ’til the bone and show his fuckin’ skeleton
See he gelatin, this nigga wouldn’t break a rule
I never paid attention in class, I sold haze in school
I change ya mind, if you think playin’ Tay is cool
I’ll clap, we turn this nigga to a statue he won’t make a move
I got plenty shooters
Niggas will chase him down, tie him up, toss him in the trunk of a Mini Cooper
So tell him settle down

He tryin’ to test K I got an SK that’ll bulldoze and level clowns
Spin his head around ’til he got back pains
I’ll leave this nigga wheezy (Weezy) when he see this MAC (Mack) Maine
When I clap thangs I be on that cold shit
Bitch I leave you with no sense (cents) like exact change
I let that bat swang and make a nigga cap crack
So play ya cards right like it’s Blackjack
And once I back smack you, you won’t get a smack back
I’ll slap this bitch up on camera you Kat Stacks
And that’s that, I’ll eat you and eat the rest
In this ring, you’ll lyrically get beat to death
I don’t trip if a nigga think he’s the best
I’ll give him the crown and shoot it off him, I’m DMX
It’s killin’ season and I ain’t the one to even test
You geekin’, I’ll leave this pussy leakin’; PMS
I be snappin’ out, niggas calm Roc
One of my verses is similar to a bomb drop
Everything you spit is like a half court jumper cause your verses ain’t fuckin’ wit’ mine by a long shot
I’m the don Roc
As far as hard rock I buy for cheap, sell it for more; pawn shop
You niggas sleepin’ on me, where’s the alarm clock
I keep a shooter for all that Jazz, I call ’em John Stock’
Catch him on the wrong block, then that cannon blammin’
And it’ll take his ribs out like Marilyn Manson
I’m in the hood, I don’t live in no Maryland mansion
Hazard County king, I got the whole Maryland chantin’
When I’m in the ring they like, “Get him Roc”
I go hard, they should call me “Tay Cinderblock”
Damn right this nigga’s hot and watch ya temper Aak
Cause when the pistols pop you’ll get more than your pimple’s popped
Get ya dental’s rocked, catch a fuckin’ temple shot
Watch him curl up like the hair Shirley Temple got
Fuck outta here

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