Conceited vs. T-Rex [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Conceited]
It’s about fucking time!
I been told Smack set it up on the next list
Nigga you already lost your necklace but now I’ma leave ‘em neckless
We were supposed to battle after that Midwest shit
But this corn flaked cuz he knew he was breakfast
But now here’s the thing, I’m done joking
He ain’t accept it cuz he knew I would rip T in that ring, I’m Hulk Hogan
Y’all remember Randy, always rapping like “keep that 40 cal gun tucked
‘Case a nigga run up, leave a nigga done but”
Lil nigga… shutup
I’ve always hated that shit and that frail flow
“I keep a 357 mac 11 and I let the shells blow” nigga… hell no!
When you rhyme like that with no punchlines
And just spit bout throwing them flames out
That style’s like Benjamin Button, that shit was old when it came out
So in this battle shit how the fuck are you named a vet?
In order for you to be shooting you gotta be more creative Rex
That’s why your careers on standstill
You’re waste when it comes to trash, cuz nobody on the land-fill/feel
Goodz said “I’m a son/sun like Steve Nash” man chill
Cuz this nigga’s 33 and still a sun, he’s Grant Hill
Ayo Smack nigga, it’s all cuz of you why we all wanna smack niggas
Cuz on that trailer you put that
“I’m back packing a mac in the back of ac’”
Nigga it’s 2011 who the fuck is still driving an Ac nigga?
Why would I pack the mac in the back of the Ac? Or ya lap?
Y’all some bimbos
When in beef you supposed to ride with it out that window
But it’s funny Rex
Cuz I mean, you ain’t even gotta a chain or a whip with yo slaving ass
You homeless, so how the fuck you in a car Rex/wrecks
When you ain’t even got a place to crash?
I can show you everything from A to B
You can’t even show me nothing from A to Z
And I know my ABC’s so I know that U ain’t a G
I’m the type that’ll spray the heat, start jogging
I start poppin’ like bacon grease
Then buck at/bucket ya legs and thighs like KFC
Ain’t it funny how all this shit get prepared in life?
Arsonal the bus driver got all in my face when he was in fear for life
Then sweaty stinky smelly ass Goodz did it
But he brought his sweat stain to fight, now fuck it, it’s my turn
I gotta bring up the heat cuz this battle is fair in heights/Fahrenheit’s
You a bitch, you pussy, you faggot! I ain’t even gotta let the ratchet cook
He’ll be scared from just hearing the clicking like Captain Hook
He knew I’d get him read/red so he had to book
He the type to help the badges catch a crook
Go to the precinct and flat out tell/tail, he a platypus
Now Rex, now you know you done fucked up right?
You said “the 40 so big when I snap it could pull a hamstring”
What the fuck does that mean? Then you said
“Dizaster be slappin Okwerdz on the ass and they ain’t playing nothing”
Now that is homo, the shit that got me so damn steamed
Is when Shine battled Suge
Mook slapped him on his ass and they wasn’t playing a damn thing
The Dot Mob out here lookin’ shakyyyy babyyyyy!
I mean y’all slap each other on the ass, Mook get ran out of Detroit
He gets stapled, you get beat up at battles, you stay getting robbed
Your hype man is a retard! But you stay yelling out “DOT MOB, BITCH!”
The only thing y’all showing me is that Dot Mob bitch!
Any single one y’all say Dot Mob street
I run up and cause Havoc on this Prodigy and leave this Dot Mobb Deep
You lil fucking jerk, timeout, y’all got me battling a fucking nurse!
That’s not a punchline, that’s real facts!
But don’t count him out yet saying that this kid is twat
Remember he’s a nurse, so he really do be giving shots
The difference is, I give out shots when them blickers in
Nigga, you give out shots of insulin
Nigga you don’t give out shots when them techs are firing
Randy, you give out shots for hepatitis
Nigga be like “Yo Con, my name ringing bells now, I’m worth grands”
Only time ya name buzzin on that intercom “*click* paging Nurse Randy”
I think there’s some senior citizens that need their pampers fixed
That’s why I hate this liar, changing diapers the only time he handle shit
Do y’all believe anything gangsta from this nigga?
Do you? Or is it anything you believe on YouTube?
I swear for this nurse I have no patience/patients, but you do

[Round 1: T-Rex]

Real niggas do real nigga shit like all the time
Which means you gotta live 99.9% of ya rhymes
Like for instance me and Head Ice had an altercation
I told the nigga “I’ll see you outside, no crew, no bets, no guns, no knives
Through all the bullshit, there was a nigga whole flip over my size
That had to sneak me from the side
Now how’s that pussy when Conceited wouldn’t survive
Aight then, I had enough with all that Ice shit
Cuz in Harlem niggas fight all the time, so that’s lite shit
It’s just the fact that I was getting it on
And Conceited can’t think of a nigga
In this whole world he had a fight with
Not in Kindergarten, not in 2nd Grade, not last year, not yesterday
But in his rhymes he always talking how his weapons spray
How the fuck he supposed to put in work with no resume?!
Nigga, on Math’s top 10 worst lines, he shitted on you
And you be holding his nuts
I heard y’all go to the clubs together and you be holding his cups
You even got a bong and you don’t smoke and you rollin his blunts?!
Well I’m that sour, you smoke me then I’m choking you up
Hollow like to rebuttal, I do it too, cuz I’m a leader
How can I lose to a nigga wearing ultimate warrior sneakers?
When you think of Rex, you think of hammers and picking shells up
Big guns, whatever’s down getting nailed up
You think of Conceited you think of women wearing Chanel pumps
Panty lines and (?), bitches getting they nails done
Fuck this supposed to be? Ya comeback Con?
Know that I’m the wrong dude for you to comeback on
If you ain’t heard I got a gun that’s long
Fuck flat, I’ll have it to where his respirator won’t come back on
Dot Mob the baddest crew out, fuck what the rest say
Next nigga play with Murda Mook he gon see them tech’s spray
That 40 will have his bones showing like an X-Ray
I’ll have his brains all over the place like a sex tape
You probably lookin like you two short niggas
No, the difference is I’m hard and you soft nigga
Ain’t nothing to get ya crew off nigga
Ain’t no joking, when you see that cig smoking, it ain’t no Newport nigga
For ya G shock I show up with that G-lock
I will put that pump on his tongue, Reebok
The impact will blow Conceited body parts 3 blocks
Y’all niggas be on that pussy shit and we not
And this the nigga we supposed to give respect
Who battled Arsonal and had his legs around another nigga’s neck?
Now that’s some shit I can’t respect
How you talking bout some guns
Cuz on the shoulders is the way a nigga father hold his son
Is that the name of his crew? S.O.N.S.? Sucking on other niggas sex
Cuz it Sound Over Noise when I hit ‘em with that Scat
Or since he on URL he Should Of kNown he getting Smacked
Now you fucking with a vet, not one of these niggas that slack
Now you always talking guns, but do you got one?
Have you ever seen one? Have you ever shot one?
He remind me of a fake bag at a Gucci store
He surrounded by real G’s but he not one
Ayo Lux I heard he signed to Soulja Boy
Is he signed? I’m thinking, what the fuck they got in common?
It ain’t they rhymes, I know what it is, they both fuckin with them lines
Tell Soulja Boy holla at me I got dimes
He come at the right time, he get 5 for $49
He seem like one of them type of niggas that have mood swings
Well I’m built for that, you feel you in that mood, swing
I’ll have you lookin like DNA with that missing tooth thing
I’ll beat you til yo ass more colors than a mood ring
Heartless, Cocky, Conceited, them names is gay bro
But Heartless gotta explain how he was on the internet with a pink toe
What happened? Was it true? Was that photoshop? Was it you?
And them was the nigga’s that you got in ya crew
Which means that we gotta take a closer look at you
Smack put that bread up it’s money on ya head
K-Shine say Zip Em Up, but yo THIS NIGGA’S DEAD!

[Round 2: Conceited]

Y’all got me battling a fucking nurse, Smack you got some fucking nerve
What’s with this competition that you giving me?
A nigga who work in the hospital but still need help with delivery
That’s cuz you just an internet web star
Said ya video on BET but that’s Webstar’s
Jim Jones in it, now he claiming Dipset, you would never sell
If ya label was Titanic they wouldn’t ship Rex/wrecks
Maybe it’s ya image, but I think it’s that fucking rhyming
I mean not even the Lakers would sign you
That label would never feel/Phil Jackson if you just owed ‘em (Odom)
Cuz you not a real artist (Artest) that’s why nobody’s buying ‘em (Bynum)
But when I’m rapping the crowd making all the noise
You make ‘em standby cuz the rhyme you put in the air plain/plane
That’s why they all are board (aboard)
That punchline shit is a parent, I fathered it
The battle game is what I’m married to so they know I had to alter it
Punch every line, name flips, y’all see the facts I prove
That’s why you don’t actually lose, it ain’t hard to spell
I beat ‘em no matter which craft (witchcraft) I use
I ain’t kidding, I ain’t no type of puss, champion sweater
Only way you’re inside the hood
I’ll grab the 9 and put T in the dirt like Tiger Woods
And he’ll get a lot of iron if his diet’s good
I said you get a lot of iron, if you die, it’s good
I don’t give a fuck, he going in, no bongo, I’m going in full throttle
He try to do everything I do but put a twist on it like a bottle
He even went to GrindTime, my home to get some condo (Con, dough)
Came back and said
He a gorilla cuz he go everywhere that Con go (Congo)
Nigga you couldn’t keep from getting wet with a poncho
When that long nose blew/blue like Gonzo
I keep the 9 tucked like Rondo, he’ll start bucking like a Bronco
Nigga I pop chrome, he going to sleep
You couldn’t get thru this nap with a hot comb
I can see thru you with my eyes closed
You only get that work-out doing Tae Bo
And giving up the chains the only time you let the 9 go
What the fuck you expect Rex? (?) crib tickets, you really gon take it
Cuz they doubt you, that’s why they house you like Real Estate Agents
I heard it was only 1 nigga, plus those 5 figures
Minus those 3 9’s that was pulled in (?), now what does that equal to?
I don’t expect you to get it, we all saw you ain’t good with Math
Cuz lunch tale bitches never add up, that’s why you could never get some
In a Catholic church with a sister, you still couldn’t get none/nun
Everybody here except for you know ya bitch giving that mean dome
We all know how she moan
Even with y’all relationship backstage she gon let T bone
Usually when niggas talk that shoot ‘em up shit, I be like mmm so what
But the reason I’ll never believe you let that 4 tuck
Cuz when you saw Head Ice on the block
You let him back you down like a post up
You was shook, horrified, showing no gut
It’s ironic his name’s Ice, but he the one that froze up
I roll up quick fast, quick jab like it’s Zab and scrape his chin
This nigga went home and had flashbacks
He had to put Ice on his face again
So fuck it Rex, whatup nigga, I’ll box you
You in crew shape you let big bodies drop you
So I ain’t even gotta get the steel to blaze it
We do that knuckle thing and I let a couple swing like Will & Jada
Nigga you weak, you sweet, you Nantucket
A right hook will have his face on my fist like a hand puppet
Nigga, you won’t blam nothing
How you say you gripping and spray the lead
When ya toy ain’t got a body on it, it’s Mr. Potato Head?
So do y’all really believe he gets involved
That would squeeze weapons off to harm me?
Nope he’s Barney, this T-Rex is soft
And for that one nigga that’s backing ‘em like,
“I got bread on Rex, I’m even willing to put up dubs”
He even willing to put up thugs, must work right in the hospital with you
The way you like putting on scrubs

[Round 2: T-Rex]

I run with niggas that shoot off impulse
We ain’t gotta be beefing, but we squeezing if you get close
So Con all that talking reckless will get ya shit broke
I’ll have a hollow sitting on ya tongue like a mentos
What you know about holding that fif’ until ya hip hurt?
Or every time you breath you bleed that’s cuz ya ribs broke
Everybody ready to die, you better live first
Cuz it ain’t no Life After Death unless it’s a BIG verse
Hold on, let me ask y’all a question, is it anyway we can help Con out?
Any suggestions? He don’t rap with no energy, no aggression
He don’t sound like a MAN cuz he ain’t got the METHOD
And this the nigga that’s supposed to beat the legend?
The veteran, whenever it storms I bring the Deserts
Weapons letting niggas running thru ya section
When you see the magazines it ain’t the Vibe or the Essence
He might as well rap with a jewish hat and a shirt on
Cuz when you rhyme we don’t feel it, you ain’t got no stove Con
Is that why you duckin’ Soul Khan?
I ain’t gon stop there, I’ma give ‘em some more cons
Niggas been asking me CON this and CON that
Ask me questions, is CON good or CON wack?
I said fucking with Rex he must be drunk off some Cognac
If he get a record deal I wouldn’t wanna hear a CON track (Contract)
I show up where CON at ready for combat
Couple of these will change his eye colors like CONtacts
Fuck it, I’ll have killers where CON stay, long K
All my niggas would do it in broad day
Get his mom’s casket closed for cheap, CON-way
Niggas act different when mommy dead, CON, Ye / Kanye
Niggas told me that Con the greatest
That I shouldn’t rap with speed I should be CON-centrated
It’s just his death that I’m CON-templating
But if he live he ain’t gon do shit, he CON-stipated
I bomb first, put this little nigga in a long hearse
When I rap it’s a Louie sneaker, when he spit it’s just a CON-verse
Long heaters, long nina’s
Show up to that game shoot wherever that CON seated
He don’t get no pussy so when CON beat it
He nut in ‘em, you know how many bitches that CON seeded?
Why he talking all CON-descending?
I’ll have bullets put in everyone of Con’s descendants
Niggas talking that Con’s was snitching, you CON-vincing
He talk to the DEA and get niggas CON-victed
It ain’t nobody that spray guns round him
CON wouldn’t be a KON-vict if A-KON signed him
Large fours, I could press a button and lift ‘em, garage door
It cost 5 stacks to hear a Rex rap, you’d think he from the Bronx
Cuz it’s only a Grand that CON cost (Grand Concourse)
I told the last Brooklyn nigga I was Baghdad
And I’m trigger happy, I’m putting niggas in Glad bags
Ain’t no way a Brooklyn bitch gon beat a vet from Harlem
Only the dickheads think he on top cuz he Conned ‘em (Condom)
All these niggas can suck a dick for hating on Rex
Cuz I just killed CON with all CON-cepts

[Round 3: Conceited]

Y’all see this big belly ass nigga? This nigga on blogs saying he 25
You trying to stay young forever? What’s that? 30’s the new 20 ass nigga
But y’all keep treating him like he the chosen one
That’s why he named himself T-Rex cuz he just bout as old as one
Smoking gun, AK, AR, techs probably
Nigga I bring the big can to ya crib like a Keg party
That shit’ll bust off, you’ll get the skull on ya shirt like Ed Hardy
I don’t wanna hear nothing outta you cats round me, you dumb sweet
Front seat the only way you catch (?)
What? Rex you a mortician, you just make up those dead bodies
Do y’all ever believe Randy was up north behind bars in prison?
The closest you ever been to a cell block was dialing *67
Nigga you couldn’t do a bid behind bars if it was liquor you pouring
You couldn’t Face-Time with an iPhone
You wouldn’t do a bid at an auction
I’m the kid with the glitter, the lips off the ripper, it’s bigger than Jigga’s
I been flossin, I been itching to hit ya, I’m ripping this nigga
I’m licking my lips like damn I’m really starving
I been pissed for a minute like rip out rip
And then the bullshit acquitted, I’m Ben Gordon
Go to his crib with the blicker, go blickity
Deadly with triggers I’m kicking that door in!
Let the Ruger cock for the whole crew with Dots
Hit K with the K, ricochets, make sure Mook gets shot
Louie V and Show will be a free throw, I’m a give you two shots
Get to the Eagles to make them birds pop out like a coo-coo clock
I’m trigger happy, I’m hitting everybody when I’m using glocks
Nigga my guns belong on the Maury show
Cuz they don’t know who to/the pop
Cop a top, got me loading up the cannon like it’s a photo op
That 40 is all chrome like Robocop
I’ll shoot, make this nigga look like a bitch, photoshop
Nigga the only thing you have in your can is soda pop
So if he say he got bullets coming out of the long nose, no it’s not
If he say he got bullets coming out that long nose, no, it’s snot!
Nigga you have to have the nappiest hair in battle rap history
And you decide to go get them gumby cuts
Nigga it looks like you go to the barber and be like
“You know… let me get the ‘fuck me up’”
I never seen a nigga in need of a tummy tuck act fucking tough
Knowing damn well I draw 4’s, he’ll go for the deck, uno
You the smallest one in ya circle and ain’t even playing it/planet, Pluto
The Dot Mob don’t fuck with this nigga
They wouldn’t let him kick it if this was Judo
Cuz number one, you mad Bruno, you be lying how you let ya tool go
You wimpy how you say ya big arms pop I (popeye)
But ya guns never blew tho
You never everybody want me to bring ya hype man up
Why the fuck should I? His hype man sucks!
I should get on the phone with “EAT EMMMM!”
Cuz I put my right hand up
That my hype man would fuck your hype man up!
I light cans up, when I’m in the broad daylight, that’s a sunshower
Bullets take his baby breath
Now they gotta bring the son flowers/SUNFLOWERS
If ya bitch get violent (VIOLET) I fuck around and shoot strays
The gun ROSE, I points at her (POINSETTA)
And he got his boo K’d (BOUQUETED)
If you think this Dan be lying (DANDELION)
When I say he get that loot up
You’ll sleep on a bed of flowers after I put two in ya
Once I let that tool up (TULIP)
Rex I promise you, I will squeeze the hammers
You better have some life savers ‘round and I don’t mean the candy
I pop, you’ll watch ya dear/deer mommy die without seeing Bambi
Cuz I’m fire and nicer than when the beach is sandy
I’m no joke rapping, I’m Joe Jackson how I’m beating Randy
But would you let the Desert spark, Kevin Hart’s?
Are you gonna pop the glock, Chocolate Drop?
Yo nigga on Smack you was lying how you ate (8) Mile
Nigga you Poppa Doc
I swear this Dinosaur shit has gotta stop
You taking this T-Rex shit so far nigga you even got a fossil watch

[Round 3: T-Rex]

Saying my name in vein/vain will have an I.V. in yours
Or give you that “I hope you walk again” from ya in-laws
I’ll make his body splatter like a four from the 10th floor
Or have it where his Blood’s everywhere, Crenshaw
I’m sick of this lil nigga talking bout these long weapons
That he too little to shoot, who this boy tricking?
Yo Mook, it don’t take a man to squeeze the can
Even the nigga with no balls can shoot
St. Tom Shepard? Now flip in front of these birdies and get nut so
That nina off the roof I got bullets by the truck load
Da, da, dadada.. it’ll sound like a drum roll
More ratchets than a Call Of Duty gun code
Let me ask you the difference with you and me
Nigga you ain’t ever had to grind or hustle on the street
When ya life is on the line and you duckin’ from the D’s
Next week ya man gon kill himself with your piece
What you know about winter time, no heat?
It’s so cold in ya house, you wear ya jacket to go to sleep
I ain’t rappin’ to be rappin’ I’m rappin’ about me
You ain’t ever sinned before, you live the life of a Priest
What this nigga know about packaging grams?
When the (?) keep fucking up ya hands?
And ya (?) got no more wet, it’s just tan
And you knocked and try to stash that pack in the back seat of ya van
See what I mean? He ain’t ever had a fight before
And he big on that computer cuz he micro-soft
You can talk that gangsta shit when these mic’s go off
I’ll give em a jab, he gon need an iPad (eye pad), no Apple store
I can have a nigga harm y’all fast
Get his windows wiped out like his hard drive crashed
Then this four gon blast, I get it all like that
For them chips I put niggas in Wonton bags
I heard his girl is a crazy woman
She always acting out and he say she buggin
She told me to get my bitch if you think she want it
Well I got a bitch to kill (Tequila) for 1800
She treat this dick well, Nelly called her a Tip Drill
Cuz she was musty, like (?) shower how her piss smelled
I’m outside with the ratchet, the whole clip fell
It’s ya Training Day and I’ma do you like the Russians did Denzel
That 80 or that mac will erase him off the map
I’ll have him in a casket lookin’ like he planking on his back
Tell Conceited don’t play with me, he might get me mad
Stop lookin at me like that cuz I’ll kick yo ass
Ya man with that pink toe, I’ll get it tagged
He’ll see his life go by like he was in a cab
I gotta (?) Dot Mob (?) have ‘em operating on him
Like a frog in a science class
This shit starting to be a nuisance
It’s crazy how these niggas took me and Mook shit
Then they do these blogs all on me and Mook’s dick
Til they ass naked getting fucked with a pool stick
Cuz you In Too Deep and I’ll show you how God do shit
I’ll even let make his niggas in the crew finish
Ruthless, you’ll never find his body it’s where DNA tooth is
This barrel keep this bullet in her mouth, it’s a cue stick
Every time she leaving she lead ‘em to go smooches
Not just me, she top my team, no hands, both arms to the sides like 9:15
She used to let me bang her for awhile, she’ll eat a nigga up
She’ll drink a nigga child, she’ll play like Chris Brown
She’ll take a nigga down, she be sucking with two hands
It looking like she raging out a towel
Even when the odds against me, if I’m falling
I’ma shoot off balance, Dirk Nowitski
You gotta pay, not even Oprah get a win free (Winfrey)
These X rated bars this nigga Disney
Yo Smack you know I was hot for a century
Respect you gotta give me, fuck all that give me the Benji’s
That was the Dot Mob coach, tell ‘em to bench me
I bet 100 that Mook and K both can put up 50
I came a long way from being Dingy
Now I ball at ya mall (Jamal), no Tinsley
Broads open the door like Mr. Bentley
I’m in a Porsche now I’m starting to miss the Bentley

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