Hitman Holla vs. Arsonal [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Hitman Holla]

I’m a different type of drug homie, I’m wrapped up packing strife
What’s all the attitude for? Oh, cuz you ain’t half as nice?
Talking bout you ran blocks
Nigga in ya school bus you wouldn’t run traffic lights
Arsonal ain’t worth smacking
Yo Shotgun if I smack him, I still don’t get bragging rights
You around kids all day, how the fuck you live the savage life?
You got that full house, Bob Saget, Baptist life
Soft ass crip
He’ll probably bleed to death if I grazed him with a fabric wipe
Since he be around schools, cool I could calculate
Hop on his bus I’m yelling kids evacuate
Look at the camera like it’s Holla I’m a fry his face
Pick up the dessie, black board you get dry erased!
Don’t play me dumb my nigga I’m a scholar cat
You don’t really think that you better, I could honor that
I’m in Newark New Jersey they whispering that’s that Holla cat
They shoot I’m firing back yelling I roger that
In the east to where the rocking the Doger’s hat
Beyonce’s home town back up to where the pirates at
Fall back and take a L you ain’t got a choice hell
Leave his throat in an envelope then I send it to his folks
That’s a voicemail
On a scale of one to 10 your raps, about a zero
Y’all put the new villain against a guitar hero
Who you think you foolin’ Ars you bring cops thru
Gangstas, killas thugs I bring my crew
His homeboy keep talking while I’m rapping, not cool
The contract said I can’t hit this nigga, not you!
All that gangbanging lifting the 40 up, not true!
Here’s a list of some stupid shit you should not do
I come around, you around, do not move!
Don’t crack a smile, I’m not ya pal, we’re not cool
You gold fishes not allowed in the croc pool
And if they jump in understand that they croc food
With that being said that leave him with two options
First spit ya verse, keep it rap
We can put on a show you know for the folks watching
Or two, get stupid and instead of Youtube
Smack gon have to upload this footage and send it to most shocking
We can fight or shoot it out, it’s whatever let’s have a slug fest
At any minute I’ll drop him I’m like a drug test
Shout out to them 60 crips, where them bloods at?
GD’s, Vice Lords, Grape? You never was that
Be yourself that’s what you oughta do
You ain’t ever been in the field, show me a scar or two
Hitman I’m one human being but got the heart of two
If you don’t understand my warning I bet ya daughter do

[Round 1: Arsonal]

I’ll slap you so hard, ya baby mother other baby father gon hate me
Now say something bout grape street watch them niggas go crazy
I was born in the 80’s I was torn as a baby
Fuck you was on that made you think you was gon erase me
I spit you spit he relapses, you remy, verb next, 3 caskets
Someone please tell the dinininon I don’t do rematches
My name Arsonal don’t act like ya’ll don’t remember me
I’m the same nigga that tortured you right after flaming remedy
Now I’m supposed to show dude some sympathy
Cuz his first charge was wandering
And he just did 3 months for mistaken identity
I got that syrup fiend beggin me I got that metal thing next to me
Just seen verb play grand pops thru Gerald’s teen pregnancy
Ya son, he a nice kid and I know he like his pops
I’ll introduce him to that night stick cuz I know he watches cops
To prevent his ass from acting wild
I should’ve pistol whipped his baby mother in the bellybutton
While she was pregnant with ya faggot child
I’m disrespectful fuck it, whatever you wanna call it
Ya son should’ve been a miscarriage pool of blood floating in ya toilet
His father gon be pussy regardless, he ain’t gon grow up to be shit
Brenda should’ve threw yo baby in the garbage
But me ain’t no need for acting, nigga u see im cracking
You softer than that nigga that be barking when Conceited rapping
Like “eat em” and you know you can’t beat em!
You hold hostages you deprive little girls of they freedom
And you look like a Saudi Arabian Dominican
Ethiopian at lost so that Puerto Rican
Now when I get home and the bank don’t clear the check
I’m back in Newark airport I’m jumpin on the nearest jet
I come to St. Louis to clear your set
Beat everybody on his block to death with Squidwards clarinet
You got a swag like Mr. Krabs, just a fag
Waiting for Xzibit to knock on ya door and pimp ya cab
No racks, I’ma bang you with the left til
I see that small intestine start to dangle out ya chest
I’ma choke you til you claim you out of breathe
I’ma bang bang you with the tech on the roof
And then I’m a slang you down the steps
I’m a gangsta I bitch slap a bitch rapper
And I just made this Hitman Holla after that natural disaster
I car jack you, you will not get ya Honda back
Six hadouken then an open E. Honda slap
Two sonic booms and then show you where my Blanka at
Then switch cartridges slowly equip my (?) back
I come to ya breakfast shove ya head in the damn eggs
Rip ya torso watch ya blood pour slow on ya pancakes
Kick in the front door and shove ya face in the fan blade
Rampage, you gon need a life size band aid
One call will make the homies touch you
You’ll get punched in the face with a fist full of rings
And think Kobe snuck you
Ya bitch just a fiend that isn’t clean I made her suck ya dick
With a mouth full of peroxide and Listerine
Now ya shit burn cuz her lips burn
You sizzy slipping and twitching
Like Smokey when he was talking to Big Worm
Ya baby mother named Chippy D Fishburne
Ya big homie 36 with no side burns and a slick perm
You talk cash money you aint’ got no dough
No bread, no cheese you got a nacho flow
I rain on this nigga parade wear a poncho
Shut the fuck up nigga it’s not ya go
Ya name Hitman Holla

[Round 2: Hitman Holla]

I always knew you was a fraud Ars
You the type that ain’t never shot a shell
I mean you a cool dude, but let me let y’all in on a secret about Darrell
Y’all remember when he got on youtube bluffing?
Him and T-Rex going back and forth about a whole lot of nothing
Arsonal swore up and down he clap techs
I remember like it was yesterday
He said, “at the next URL event I’m a smack Rex”
I said “damn, dude might be gangsta” I miss that? You shittin’ me
Who was on that card smack? Ill, Surf, Ice, Tech, Hollow and Big T
For some strange reason I fucking believed him
Not all rappers lies, I mean well over most of ‘em
But make a long story short I spotted both of them
I said, “awwww shit any time now Arsonal should be approaching him!
He should take that angle and smack him that way”
In my head I started coaching him
He turned around and saw Rex and saw me and did this
Man I saw the ghost in him, his heart beating fast
He nervous I’m losing hope for him
I gave him the benefit of the doubt like maybe he too sober
He don’t wanna fuck up the battles he probably waiting til it’s over
We get outside, that’s on my mom’s children
Nigga waved bye to every rapper in the building
You fuckin disgrace you let ya whole block down
Cuz if a St. Louis nigga made a threat, what time is it?
A nigga would be getting shot now
I give a fuck about you poppin a bottle, I don’t drink hoe
I thought you was supposed to check me in person, I aint think so
Fake ass, mark ass, fraud ass nigga been lying longer than Kirilenko
Look me in my eyes I’ll punch you if you even blink slow
St. Louis Missouri yeah call us the battle state
Shots in that polo horse till that saddle break
His homie come around he fronting put on his battle face
See me and then get the shaking, you just a rattled snake
Who bang with him? Pull ya salary out
Pow pow that 50 cal knock some calories out
Grind time charged him, I take them batteries out
Since he think he so cold I knock ya allergies out
I’m a grown man’s man who chose to bring a child in
You had a better chance of winning throwing the towel in
My career running thousands after thousands
His career Darrell Jones clean up, where? aisle 10
You a herb that’ll squeal, a nerd with a deal
Ain’t worthy of my skills, just resemblance
Y’all rep the states, I ball, I put on them jersey’s for real

[Round 2: Arsonal]

First of all ya mother played professional rugby
She the goalie during soccer season
You wear the thongs and ya bitch do the boxer briefing
I’m in the south where all year round it’s chopper season
Give me a proper reason cop and squeezing Holla stop ya breathing
Where you wanna be? In front of me is the last place
Put a pump in ya mouth Holla and ask you how that gas taste
Make you kiss ya bitch now in her tongue, you got that
You staring at that bitch with that I ate ass face
Ewww that’s some nasty ass kinky shit
Bitch look like Rasheed Wallace with nappy ass kinky twist
Herpes on ya ding-a-ling and that’s why you think you sick
He fucking bitches raw with that lumped up stinky dick
You moving white for Eazy chip, easy bitch
I aim above ya brim I squeeze slow, leave you leaking quick
I knock them shits out that you eating with
You go above the rim I pull a birdy on any nigga that think he flip
Get it? I snatch ya ball cap fitted
I done travelled across the world, we use all that pivot
Ya bitch don’t sell the pussy we just call that rented
No walls somehow even my car crashed in it
You gangsta that don’t at all matter, to me you a fraud rapper
I car jack ya than pistol whip you til ya jaw shatter
Headbutt hard hat ya, reach into ya bitch pussy pull out ya daughter out
And feed ya new born ya gallbladder
I’ll pay a greedy bitch to squeeze ya dick until ya balls splatter
You wouldn’t be a big man if you was Shaq or Pau Gasol ladder
You lil dumb ass, under 21 ass, bum ass
Special ed only had one class, lil bitch, lil dick premature cum ass
Used to let the school bully shit in ya lunch bag
Nigga, little pussy ass pervert, Hitman Holla?
Ya name Gerald Dean Girbert
Ya bitch sucking spit til I ejaculate yogurt
You the type open the freezer and stick yo shit in the sherbet
Now I’m a dog no fraternity or gold boots
Ill name Marlon and don’t nobody really no Juice
See I’m crippin but I don’t know Snoop
I know Verb and he a bitch
He ain’t got shit but some kids and a gold tooth
Nothing to show for, no car, no chauffeur
No coupe, no four door, nigga that’s not couture
Holla you sure you want all of this? I advise you call it quits
Before the rebel start to ball his fist
Dash came to St. Louis and saw ya bitch
Acting wild blacking out acting wild
For a black and mild and a harbor mist, now that there dumb
Ill I dare yung to put his hands to me and shoot my black ass the fair one
You the type a nigga I pop with a flair gun straight disrespect you
Dig in my nose and put the snot in ya ear drum
I don’t wear mask I rob this nigga bare face, bare ass
Put ya full structure in a full body air cast
In a hospital fill his oxygen tank up filled with tear gas
Make sure his car in a deer crash, without the seat belts and airbags
That bitch ain’t yours nigga you share ass
You wondering why Grindtime ain’t call you?
Cuz you dirty niggas is pure ass
Look he sad with his head down, so I’m talking and walking with you
That target I’m gonna rip you with rocket launcher missiles
You gonna need bounty, the quilted picker up and lots of toilet tissues
Cuz when that glock and that 40 hit you from Marvin the Martians pistol
I’m bout my money I need more bread
And I be damned if I lose to a nigga that think he cornbread
I’m the nigga eating chicken wings, four legs
Why is your head shaped like a camel back on a horse head?
Go ahead and talk about the bol dreads
And how you gon’ pull em out one by one until I got a bald head
You’re and informant you call feds
You 28 years old at ya mommy house and you still sleep in ya car bed
You got a twin size Lamborghini ya pillow where ya trunk at
Ya father name Houdini and his widow is a hunch back
I fucked ya mother mouth I put my dick where her tongue at
She said “my throat kidnapped my seed and you not getting ya son back”

[Round 3: Hitman Holla]

In other words, 4th quarter, cool show me primetime
This nigga first down marker on the sideline
Yeah I’m from a dangerous city, so im bout mine
Arsonal I’m built for this game I made the guidelines
Uppercuts, hooks and jabs we don’t box shit
Glock clips you wouldn’t block these shots with Josh Smith
Su woop what’s poppin what that bread about?
Five point flag on the weapon show him what red about
One phone call and the whole mob is heading out
Snip him, stitch him doctors will have to thread him out
Fuck what you heard I’m that nigga you shoulda read about
Shells thru his living room window I really egg his house
Arsonal a loser he just spelling the cause
Don’t believe that bullshit that he selling to y’all
Pay close attention his name telling it all
Yeah he got an A-R… SO
Will he bust it? NA, he a fuckin fun boy and he devastating to AL(L)
I’m on a money route, my destination is ball
I took this battle in seconds no preparation at all
He on his high horse cuz he thinkin that his family royal
I’ll run thru ya family royal
You a prince? Well I’ll snatch ya princess, trigger fuck her with twin techs
And the queen where they fly by next
They ricocheted and hit the king mama like Delonte West
Bar for bar he was out matched, cookin this nigga
When I finish him the outback, four words when I’m in beef
Where his house at?
Boobies at his crib I put a bomb where his couch at
Shotgun reload, Arsonal got his spouse clapped
Everybody get it I’m sending shots where the mouse at
War time and you in the front? I doubt that?
All that super loud shit, rowdy rowdy wild shit
Just letting me know that you ain’t about that
This nigga can’t see me mentally physically or spiritually
Not this cock sucker, literally
I’m a real nigga, I really just wanna drop it
Cuz I don’t feel comfortable talking about the topic
But all that gangbanging you do, I saw that picture
You got some explaining to do
Who’s the he-she? Is it true? Was it photoshop? Is it you?
The camera don’t lie, if you watch and see
That one round he did with Dizaster what you do? Drop to his knees
I was nice at 14, back then I let them techs rattle
Nowadays I let that tech rattle
Fuck judging smack you better bring paramedics to my next battle
O-Red, Shotgun, Tsu Surf, Arsonal all lame
Two words after this, Ball game!

[Round 3: Arsonal]

Yo breath hot and stinky that’s a bad mix, you black bitch
Ya mouth smell like you just swallowed a big bag of ass chips
Ya tongue probably smell like a giant bass fish
Whiting, tuna, tilapia and catfish
Whoever booed will get beat and then stuck up
I’ll beat and then butt fuck ya mother then beat ya brothers the fuck up
Tough luck Hitman, I squeeze until the clip jam
You’ll have better luck next year every year like a Knicks fan
After the steal pass the roc to ya big man
So I can kill him, the scarecrow and the tin man
I show Gerald the dirt, grab metal then squirt
St. Louis y’all move regular work
Y’all bout to witness little Gerald get murked
Hitman gon follow in the same footsteps as Gerald Lavert
You’ll be another dead nigga missing
Ill looking at you like “do it baby you got it” go ahead Holla give him kiss
I’ll back hand him twice then give him fist
Three rounds of death nah fuck it probably give him six
I don’t play I cop blam blam
I love to watch ya baby mother pop that pretty pussy on a hand stand
How much you wanna bet everybody in jersey
That really like the nets will beat the shit out of the rams fans
I put the house on him, know that that house haunted
When he battled in Halloween this nigga mother had her mouth on it
That trick treated at her own fucking house warming
Ya father walked out and on his back he had ya couch on it
Now how I thought of that I see things clear
Think before you act, how many lost to me this year?
I pay a random bitch to leave this queer to the woods
Then give that bitch a new objective, Steve McNair
You need to stick to basketball cuz once you get the yapping off
I get the trap involved and dead niggas cannot rap at all
You coochie you just acting hard, fuckin bloody pussies
Running red lights, nigga directing traffic wrong
Lights camera action nigga we on, what type of shit he on
Let me let y’all in on a secret, he ain’t the shooter
He the shooting guard he get his 3 on
Ol booty ass nigga he brick and don’t get his D on
Ya brother is a peon and ya mother’s name is Leon
I unlock this nigga life I got my top of the key on
Then I pop this nigga wife in my block in a neon
Superman that hoe I did the dougie than a deon
That mean I touched her with my dick , she touched back got her meat on
Without the in zone I’m strong enough to bend chrome
My saliva stronger to ya face will break ya chin bone
Ya bitch blacker than me with that dark ass skin tone
Blacker the berry sweeter the juice, no sprint phone
I don’t fear you, the east don’t hear you
I’m so far ahead you I can’t spot you in my rearview
My shank slide down you like ya tears do
Tear you put the second knife in you to skin you and then I wear you
I’m holla now! I clap and make ya black blucka
You don’t wanna smash knuckles
I ambutate yo leg to beat yo face with yo calf muscles
You done let that grass bluff you, talking bout you better than Biggie
You aint better than Diggy, ask Russell
I shit, take a dookie on em, reach, pull the toolies on em,
Since I moved to new Orleans I’ma lean and get groovy on em
Beat the men behind him get six bodies, Lil Boosie on em
Hurricane or Wayne I get my liltunechi on him
I pick your girl up, I’m a drop her on my fuckin bed
Lift my dick up and let it drop on her fuckin’ head
Punch her in the ass til her booty cheek is fuckin’ red
Then make that bitch wash and retwist every motherfuckin’ dread

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