Yung Ill vs. T-Rex [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Yung Ill]They say Ill just as nice as Holla and Verb
But he don’t get the prime props he probably deserve
And that’s highly absurd
Boy that wouldn’t make sense/cents if I had a dollar
For every time somebody holla’d those words
Word, that’s why I’m upset, boy this battle gon be an upset
Before you flew to the Lou I briefed my crew like don’t touch Rex
But they said, “fuck that he getting pile driven
Body slammed and gut checked cuz we buck techs”
So you don’t gotta be in a precinct to get ya mug-shot for acting suspect
Boy what next? You gon get snuffed and ruff necked
For claiming to be a tough vet, you? A rookie bitch
Mook write for you, you write for Shine
Y’all be on that rookie shit
Boy I will show your rap crew what this mac do
I’ll let a shot sneeze at you
And them pussies cuz sick is something that you not
But I flew/flu shots since y’all was playing Ill on some hookie shit
But keep quiet, riot? Rex, don’t you think that’s kind dumb (condom)
To get on some pussy shit? Dear Rex, (Durex)
My lifestyles raw dog, one magnum will put a dick head in a hole
Now what’s coming/cuming out of them pussy lips?
But see I did a background check
You known for getting ya background checked
Be upfront and don’t front
You ain’t checked a nigga in my background yet
When the pressure’s on is he gon back down? Yes
I will close fist back hand ya biggest rap fan
But I ain’t selfish nigga, you gon get smacked round next
You hear that click clack, get used to that sound Rex
I’m like a procrastinating pimp ever since I picked up this pistol
I ain’t put my mac down yet
But besides them over the head bars I just told this nigga
Here go some real nigga bars that should expose this nigga
You see I usually cross my T’s, make sure I dotted my eyes
But in this case all I gotta do is cross T
Cuz Head Ice already dotted his eyes
See I was thinking
How can I bring the bitch ass nigga out of Rex in the best way
Then I saw you versus Conceited
You explained the Head Ice altercation, but that was just gay
Cuz I logged on to
Pulled up a Rex blog and pressed play
When I was battling DNA, Head Ice was knocking you out
And you was on Youtube shouting him out the next day
So look… I ain’t buying none of that gangsta shit he sell y’all
Ice threw a drink on you and told you pop off, he yelled “naw”
That was right in front of Dot Mob or should I say Twat Mob
The clique full of female frauds
And I ain’t saying you a bitch, but you be acting like a female, dog
Math Hoffa pistol whipped ya partner, but ya gang get goons involved
How? When y’all laugh, joke and smile
And Math be in the same fucking room as y’all
See that’s the difference between me and those thugs
I gotta childhood friend named Odell that was murdered in cold blood
My nigga Lil Rez got hit in the head with a chopper
I cried tears at the wake like why they had to knock him
My point, let either one of they killers be in the room
I’m giving something proper for thinking it’s all Gucci
I’m letting that thing Flocka
But them bars might offend you, see you the type to snitch
Still get locked behind bars and let ‘em pimp you
Be a flunky for ya bunky, iron drawls in a tank top resembled bra
That’s what you into
You a pussy, period, a broad on her menstrual
A right fist to jaw is how I send you
Should I chill? Probably, nah the shotty soft
It buck shots, ricocheted off walls hit body parts
Knock a limb loose, invest in a bodyguard for your bodyguard
Cuz your bodyguard cannot defend you
Nigga look into my eyes, see the pain that I been thru
My uncle got murdered now murder is what I send you
For bill money, lay ‘em down flat when that rent due
That lead clap, get yo head wrapped like a Hindu
Word to Allah, turn Muslim when shots from that thing fly
I’m on the corner on the last call
I blast off and turn ya brains into bean pie
So you can rap and play mad, boy I’ma let that black K blast
And put ya soul right next to the stars like a backstage pass
Boy you couldn’t stand the heat but put ya feet on the kitchen floor
Now I’m shitting on you
Ezel outside the liquor store from the front porch to the kitchen door
Fuck rap we can scrap, but I got them superhero powers, listen boy
I got a Superman, Spiderman, Batman back hand
And it’s worse than getting hit by Thor
You gon need 100 gats, the Power Rangers, the Thunder Cats
That Tomb Raider bitch and more
When I get the clickin more til my wrist is sore
You hit the floor with every ligament tore
You ain’t ever seen no shit like this before
Boy you been battle rapping since February of 1992
What the fuck are you still spitting for?
Mook probably tell you to stay retired
Your raps gone you should listen more
Cuz now you reminding us of hat zone
Trying to snap back to a new era that you not fitted for
But let me guess, you not a rapper, you a trapper
Well somebody better help ya boy
Break rule number one
And keep the work in ya house like you self-employed
Boy, is dope at ya crib? It’s coke that you slanging-
Boom, I’m thru the front door aiming the Wesson
I know you got stripes like a referee, but this pistol ain’t a whistle
I get the banging, you flexing I tell em take me to his stash
His coke, his cash, fuck what gang that you repping
I hit the baseline and take the rock out like a change of possessions
But I’ma do me in my 2 3, hit some pointers boss
You ain’t used to the full court trap or D
That’s why you been getting pressed since the coin got tossed
You rap bar after bar after bar after bar
I’m like what’s your point? I’m lost
You should get an 8 second violation
For taking too long to get ya point across
That old Ill, niggas asked for that old Ill, well it’s him again
Renegade, Eminem, 45th in a tinted Benz, got more clips for him and him
So you could put a price on my head, that’s cool, then again…
You only paying butter to get ya mans toasted, send ‘em in (cinnamon)
Think that breakfast a joke? Well all you funny guys fucked
So you better scramble before I yolk the mac until ya egg shell cracked
Or get to bacon/baking at ya ribs and turn sunny side up
The reason why the street niggas feeling every line
That’s cuz I’m 1300 military time, you get it?
That’s the one hoe, why let a gun blow?
When I could play a center with a hawk like Mutumbo
I would pan fry noodle this- Nah, let’s make gumbo
A couple classics up under my belt, just had one more
I’m at yo baby momma front door, knock knock
Rex, Dot Mob, dumb hoe, I walk up on her like
I know he got a daughter but
Rex don’t give two donkey dicks or a goats ass about that dumb hoe
Where ya son go?
She say, “go down past the restroom and one door”
I say, “bitch you can walk fast or run slow”
I walk up on the lil nigga, he say,
“I know I ain’t supposed to talk to strangers, but I ain’t dumb tho
My daddy said you wouldn’t blast”
I said, “little nigga you got me gassed what do you think this pump’s for?”
Mossberg, *ch-ch* dump four, before sunset ya son dies
And ya family gon be mourning/morning
When they see the soul of ya son/sun rise
Rex gon say something about Ill being gay
A lie that we all know was fucking wrong, chill
But I’ma tell the truth about two bitches I fucked from New York
That you got crushes on
You be sending perverted text messages, pause
Unsolicited dick pics to they fucking phone
I promised I wouldn’t say they names, but get ya phones ready
Her number is 718-265- pause I’ma leave that the fuck alone
But you got money for this battle didn’t you?
Yeah so let’s make a bet, make a threat
Say you gon get the chrome and handle me? That’s what I thought
I bang shots ya sister, mother, brother, dang pops
In the same box like a homeless family
Boy you in the Lou, so I can show you how to get work in the slum
Cuz my hustle game sicker than Eazy-E on the 1st of the month
I tell ‘em that my Thugz in harmony
He acting like he still needing the proof
Well he gon wish these shells ain’t hit his flesh
When I go crazy and throw 3 from the coupe
But I’m lazy so I’m thinking why raise up chrome?
When these can break up Bones like Bizzy leaving the group
In this battle I don’t wanna hear nothing bout how you bang gats
Cuz you ain’t click clack bang back when you got yo chain snatched
I heard the nigga that robbed you got a Jesus Piece too
But he thought that he was two lame
And softer than a Tity Boy now he got 2 Chainz
But you can say all them rhymes about how you got techs and bangers
But you flew to the Lou and met this World Series flow
Now you going home with an L like the Texas Rangers
Fly Fam… bang.

[Round 1: T-Rex]

Grown man bars is something Ill gon have to deal with
Cuz no matter all them fabricated bum ass lines he said
It ain’t gon equal up to this real shit
That gangsta shit he shouldn’t try here
Cuz I’m keeping it real… a nigga could die here
We brung them 9’s here, you know them hammers is on deck
When them plane tickets was paid for and we ain’t fly here
So don’t act like them 9’s won’t pow pack
And I’ll leave them bitches on the crime scene and I’ll fly back
Ill ain’t on my level this just a money move
And from the outside lookin in you can tell Hitman don’t fuck with you
And Verb cuz y’all some funny dudes
Cuz every battle that y’all had in New York City
Hitman was right there backing you hoes up
And at the biggest battle of his career against Arsonal
You faggots don’t show up
And that’s supposed to be his fucking dude
Yeah well that proves he funny dude, well I ain’t with the laughing
Let this nigga make a funny move
And I’m shooting more times than Kobe do when he don’t wanna lose
Yo Ill best line wasn’t a punchline, it was “who is this nigga?”
Honestly you don’t know what I’ll do to this nigga
Put em in a pine box have the Fly Fam viewing this nigga
They call him Pat
Cuz they don’t know the shit that you in (Ewing) my nigga
So don’t Ayeverb around and get killed
I get a W on ILL, I beat niggas at WILL
This nigga is a fucking fraud, biggest thing in his career being a undercard
Shit I’m tucking large, got a lot of heaters in the trunk of cars
It’s construction, that hammer on belt is just my fucking job
These battles done changed they made it personal
Ill wanna get personal, say it in person now
Hit his block, murk around, what comes around goes around
Every time I come around I’m letting go a round
He ain’t never had a fight in his life Calicoe
Unless it was domestic so that’s gay violence
And Ill ain’t got no pride in his lyrics cuz he gay priding
Beat this homo nigga to death, I hate crime him
You’ll think I’m trying to spell Knife the way that K silent
As a kid Ill grew up dancing making his body twerk
Wearing his moms lipstick wearing her bath and body works
Me, I was raised by the gangsta’s I let the shotty squirt
Before we prayed to god we looked up to John Gotti first
In his blog he said don’t call him a bitch or a bitch ass nigga
You a fag, you’s a fag wear a bag and a switch ass nigga
Go to jail and probably suck a nigga dick ass nigga
I’m a hungry pitbull on a leash, I’m bout to chew off
Thang on my waist I’m ready to let a few off
Ambulance will carry Marlon away with his shoe off
I make rain there (reindeer)
When I’m trying to knock ya root off (Rudolph)
I couldn’t fly to St. Louis cuz I ain’t wanna leave my vest and my 3 gats
But they respect me in the Lou, I’m like (?) and D. Mack
I’ll get my hands together, get ya team clapped
I smoke so many niggas I gotta wear a nicotine patch
I’m about it for real, no talking
When Hitman called me and told me it was you
I skipped to the Lou (?)
Have him wearing RIP shirts with his face on it
Now his body in the same church Mase talking
Ill talk that monkey business the apes on him
Got ‘em jumping over the cars like Blake Dodger
Shooting like I’m the point guard from Blake Forest
Before I give ‘em the bullet I tell em to wait for it
Then shoot at this nigga cuz that fif is the best I ever had, Drake chorus
I’m on it, I ain’t with the acting like I’m trying to steal a beer
How that 40 in my jacket, I’m the truth
When I shoot I ain’t talking bout a basket
When I shoot, fuck a hoop, you’ll lay up in a casket
I pull up real smooth, I’m like, “what happened?
Whatever you got to say, say it to the ratchet”
I ain’t with the flashing, if I pull it I’ma clap it
I’ma have bullets in his tissues like boogers in a napkin
I’m a gangsta, the wrong nigga to go after
Hollow tips is like wind I let ‘em blow at him
Whether he survive or die, ehhhh it don’t matter
He can’t shoot a MC when his Hammer is broke like that old rapper
I’ll go gatter, send my goons to go catch ‘em
Have his blood all on the Crys bottle, gold rapper
I’m no rapper, get ya jaw and ya nose fractured
For playing a bold rapper I’ll go toe tag ya
See this is what I’m motherfucking talking bout
A nigga that get too much liquor in they system
And they wanna brawl it out
Whatever Ill got in that cup he better put it down or pour it out
‘For the coroners have to come pick him up and sort him out
So please don’t try to get fake wild
Dot Mob ain’t into talking we let that Fif say “BOW!”
Whatever he got in his mind he get that shit sprayed out
He gon need tubes to breathe, fish tank style
So St. Louis don’t cheat me and say y’all man won
Cuz that’s exactly what the judge gon give me, man one
Murder in the first degree with a handgun
Y’all just now saw me
In the middle of the crowd taking pictures with niggas in the Lou
In New York he act nervous
I power bomb you on ya neck until ya back broken
Fuck who you on the phone with
When that mac squirting I’ll have everybody he called drop, bad service
I’ll! I’ll give him a shell in his face
I’ll give him a shot that he never could drink
I’ll put him in a box and send him away
The reason I keep saying “I’ll” I’m saying his name
This nigga soft he got a gelatin frame
I’ll shoot everybody I can find with his relatives name
Big fif extend clip
I’ll put ya mans in a box with a mailing address, I get ya friend-shipped
I got the same guns as TIP, but they ain’t find mine
Ill cross these guidelines all he hearing his “BLOW! BLOW!”
I’m from the hood where niggas stab you in ya front
One of ya best friends go and stash you in the trunk
You could play like it won’t happen if you want
And be one of them niggas found slain with the maggots in ya guts
Chump, when the beef is on
I’m outside barefooted with the Tommy no time to put my sneakers on
I seen the toughest niggas go and make precinct calls
My team you don’t know what’s behind us like when a preacher walks
For that money we’ll tear up niggas
Ill will die on his toes, he a stand up nigga
Drama I’m riding, they right there with me
Silencer on the front, you never hear that spitting
Please don’t say our name out there
We’ll bring out them 2 K’s to show you it ain’t a game out here
With that tech I got aim out hurr
I don’t care if there’s a combination on you, you ain’t safe our hurr
You think you Superthug well I’ll knock the S off you
One in his head and thank you to whoever brought the vest for you
It’s no respect for you, I treat you like raw coke
Before I knock you off the boat, I’ll step on you
My killers hungry we ain’t never had a thousand cash
For 5 of those they’ll body Ill without a mask
Go to his car, spark him out his glass
When they find him he look like a crash dummy but without the bag
Ill could rap but why he gotta be thug with it?
Tell him to watch ya mouth or wash ya mouth I’ll put blood in it
You love gimmicks you always fooling niggas
I’m the camera man, I’m always shooting niggas
Flawless with the Taurus, K told me I’m a Ruger nigga
AR with the scope, I’m a off the roof the nigga, I bring it to the nigga
This is what you oughta go look at the microwave
And go see the face of ya daughter to save the case for the porters
Money can’t get her back unless that cat got 9 lives
And if so, she’ll be back
Ill rap! I live what I’m writing
I done escaped 4 raids and 3 indictments, I’m exciting
Did y’all see me at the Conceited battle
When I said them 12×12 skinny’s keep fucking up my hands
But my work is great
So imagine how I feel trying to open up them 38×38’s?
He want protection now, chopper knock his section down
Grab him by his neck and ahhh you lucky it ain’t a 2nd round
That nigga dead! That nigga dead!

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