Conceited vs. Jesse James [Lyrics]

[Jesse James]
Listen, you the best in the what?
Then why smack ain’t give you a slap
I started diggin the plot, he was feelin’ a spot
East rappers travel west and keep gettin’ em shot
Died at a light like biggie or Pac
So I pretend to loot Cali and you can’t
I catch em in traffic with the .45 in clip
Put six in his chest and let his ghost ride the whip
Yeah, welcome to the murder capitol
But don’t get too relaxed cause we don’t fuck with rappers thats wack
The wrong punchline get you smacked, robbed for them stacks
You’ll never be able to travel this part of the map
And the worlds lot bigger than a apple, trust me
We got a app for that
I’m like nah he 4’3 what the fuck he gone do to me
Trey say jay what up trey you check your card?
Yeah he nice, when he gon be a beast? bout time that he hit puberty
I don’t be killin’ em I’m usually laid back wasted
No license movin’ these cars
Usually raw watch em get cooked infront of yall like a Japanese sushi bar
[?] when I drive the shoes be off
I hop out lookin’ like a young [?] roscoe
I copped those from my mexican vatos
Guns blazin’, no hesitation, laughin’ as I grope the trigger
To roast this nigga while the barrels is evelvatin’
Now thats what I call fund raisin’
Fuck famous, you a broke bum ass nigga
Your whole entourage consist of a gay group of groupies who got hives and 40 year old women working the window at Popeyes, who get pissed when you ask if you got hot fries
Listen, listen all jokes aside see
I’m thinkin’ that was you talkin’ that smack bout my raps and gunplay
But I don’t need that strap to drag you cross the tracks
Second he touch the runway
They find his body floating in front of that
Picture above a article next to the fun facts
When that St. Louis post dispatch, congrats
You’ll finally make front page
So don’t get it twisted, I am what I seem
I handle the beam, dismantle your spleen til your bottom burst
Shatter your vocal cords, leave you conceited, low self esteem
Its no question, when it comes to survivin’ for cheese
Why is it I see, quick to switch em up and hit em up
I let the shotty body his body and lift him up
? like a weight liftin’ class shape shift his ass
EMT don’t know if they need a trash bag or a bus
A bad bitch with a fat ass is a must
My last bitch was Brazilian before that the twins was Albanian
Six back, sip wine watch ’em strip in the club
So get lost, I’m on my Rick Ross boss shit
Talk shit, they find his body with Lil Jon [?] Ramsey
Blood on my hands like a actor from saw six
Aw shit, I get on my uncut raw shit
Shots’ll get fired, not from his time
Land on em and transform em like Optimus prime
I’m from a city where niggas’ll snatch your chain and argue about who’s the best rapper Drake, Jesse or wayne

Aight look, he said he wanted a big battle
Comin’ at conceited is somethin’ you shouldn’t go to
Its ironic you say people in the Lou smell you
And nobody here knows you
He’s only known for chokin’ in his raps and throwin’ away a stack
Not for no aggression or no skill you just a no namer
They just refer to you as the last nigga that went against ill
See this is a favor, letting you hear these nice raps
If you so hot, how come you couldn’t melt down a ice pack
I mean you couldn’t be forreal with that babble
This match up is a back paddle
And from the looks from things you still look a little ill from that battle
I forgot my damn lines
Sike, you must be out yo damn mind
Imagine me freeze, thats not cool
Gettin’ in a battle and say ah shit, I’m not you
You probably don’t know what I’m talkin’ bout
Cause that battle don’t got views
And see I know when I remind you of that, it bring you a whole lot of pain though
But what really hurt this lame fuck
Your niggas keep sayin’ my name before sayin’ your name once
And thats the truth straight up
This square better shape up
You think I believe you conceal a mac cause everything you say make up? the rest of yall will get that in the morning when you wake up
Battling me you stepped way out of your comfort zone
Nigga you ain’t dumpin’ chrome
You like Mark McGwire someone in Saint Louis we always see runnin’ home
The shotgun will strip him like skull and bones
Once I blocka, I’ll get rid of the chopper like Puffy Combs
See this sucker known to be a liar, a faker, stop with the yappin’
You frontin’, he thinks I’m gonna give him props cause he’s actin’
In that case I’ll make you sitcom when I snipe your ribs

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s