Aye Verb vs. Arsonal [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Arsonal]
Once again I’m here in another niggas state
I’m on another niggas stage, up in another nigga face
But I came to the Lou to disrespect you and that ugly nigga Chase
To act funny nigga and y’all face will sit chunky on my waist
Now when I got to the Lou I felt like Hurricane Chris
Somebody please ask me why
Cause the first bitch I hit was Aye Bay Bay
You Kanye, I fucked your bitch first, I’m Ray-J Aye
This dread head will post on your block the Nay Nay way
And you’ll get more than a nickname from that AK, (A)ye
Now every battle they ask who’s the battle rapper that I actually hate
And that I don’t respect
Ask me what I said
(What you said?)
I said Chaz Duncan a.k.a. Aye Verb
That’s just the answer that I won’t regret
I came to the Lou to expose you and your homie’s set
You’ll have all these St. Louis home games to earn a check
All these New York away games to earn respect
But Smack, it’s like St. Louis red shirted they whole battle rap career
Ask me why
Cause ain’t none of y’all been in Jersey yet
What’s this the practice squad?
These bitches get you horny that’s why you acting hard?
We at the top of the food chain nigga, you lames is actually frauds
Verb, I’m who you wanna be, you wanna be in front of Ars
But that’s why you lacking bars, hold up y’all put that “B” in front of Ars
That’s BARS an that was actually hard
Now every time I come out of state niggas question me Niggas act like I’m on weed, smoke, pills, ecstasy
You know what, fuck that, that was actually hard
Hold up… let me get it together, let me get it together


Sike! Fuck that!
Y’all thought I was fucked up Y’all thought I was suped up wasn’t you?
You thought I loss words cause I crossed words It was that easy to puzzle you
You ain’t ’bout that action Verb, so get rid of that name Before I click a mag, aim at your fitted hat, BANG!
I hit your ceiling/brain looking fucked up with caps everywhere
Just like the mouth on Trinidad James
But this all black everything, two heaters on my waist line
I pull Wade on that fast break and then Lebron from the bass line
BANG! On the cop and his canine
His partner walk by I stay calm
I flash the tea and the skittles and said “I’m doing this for Trayvon”
Than leave his face gone
Big cam, black hoody then steal for Trayvon
Four shooters, guns in both hands, octo-pop, eight arms
Say it with your chest, I’m a squeeze it til your waist gone
This hole from that Shotty and Verb body
Gon look like he swallowed a Molly full of Napalm
You gon’ die behind these bars, you John Gotti, get your face torn
Once I pop, I can’t stop, I go Pringles when the eighth drawn
With this Eagle, I’ll beat you and your bab’ mom
You gon wish you I could huddle up and disappear
While singing a jingle off of State Farm
But you ain’t good in All States nigga, you ain’t good in all states nigga
You ain’t get the message?
You crash battling Rex I guess your pen wasn’t Progressive
Losing is cool, but the 10k was the Objective
You did all that rapping about testing a nigga gangsta
So why the fuck didn’t you test it?
Smack, let a nigga offer me 10 now
I’m talking this round I got a bomb under my shirt, I’m tellin’ everybody to get down!
That clock start to tick down
Only may for y’all to live now is if he beat me
And that’ll happen the same day we see a fish drown
My magnum barrel spin round, hollow tips, six rounds
I violate him in 5 seconds like he the nigga that’s trying to inbound
It take a stand up nigga to tell another stand up nigga to sit down
Let me see that bottle, you Drake after that cake
And right now I’m feeling like Chris Brown
I’m still trying to figure out how to market you captain marketable
You 32, you battle rapping your record isn’t remarkable
I’m Arsenal, I could teach you to be a winner, I’ll Coach Carter you
Let a shotgun rearrange your eye, formation without an audible
Chase gon promote you Verb, I’m gon provoke you Verb
I got a cancerous Desert Eagle, meaning damn that’s one smoking bird
You must be smoking herb I’m ready to poke a nerve
I’m on probation, he phone home to my PO like “You know the Loc from Jars
Arsenal Da Rebel, yeah, he’s in St. Louis
That’s no absurd, bitch do you understand English?
He’s hurt now, but he’s hurting, Verb
So you phone home to my PO like you ET
I should’ve broke his nose but then I realized
When It’s music related, most P.O.E.T.’s express themselves through spoken word
So you a paid snitch? That’s what you do?
You sketch they pictures?
Or you write up the report?
Nah, you the essay nigga
Well me? I’m the “Let the Tec spray nigga”
Til it jams and is no longer active and stop banging like gang members
Verb I’m here to snatch every bit of confidence from your conscience
Since you trying to convince the world yo accomplishments I’m your consequence
We in a four door Caddy, four shooters all sit behind the tints
Latex cover my fingers, they wouldn’t find the prints
That’s a real rubber grip, my gun handle, it got a condom stench
My magnum smell like a Mag so when I’m busting pussy, you not (?)
Old school, he can’t come off his porch, you trapped behind a fence
Put a scope on your rifle, become a sniper use common sense Why?
Cause you don’t wanna match these mittens
I love pussy, one clap, clap these kittens
Y’all 100 deep?
Well my strap mean business
I grab a 40 and insert a clip longer then Max B sentence
You hustling backwards, fronting hundred packs
That’s coming back even, while my gun or mac squeezing
You under that ce-ment, have your mother ass screaming over a coffin
Cause you dressed like Danny Granger and Derrick Rose from all of last season
You a student for your death date, you lack even/thing except hate
I took your queen 42 bars ago, first round was motherfucking checkmate
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell “bars” without putting that “Ars” in it

[Round 1: Aye Verb]
Remember you said fuck my whole city?
And everybody round here was clowns, and we don’t really down
Well say all of that gangsta shit now, you in front of a St. Louis crowd
Nah, nah, nah… that’s Rex move, I don’t do that clown ass shit He bout to see all bars like what’s in an alcoholics phone contact list
They call me captain, I don’t like to lose
He the type like to feud
My attitude, “What’s poppin? Let’s get it popping nigga, light the fuse!”
Smack sent me how he wanted you dead I read, but I ain’t like them rules
So let’s revise a little
First round: lighter fluid, ignite the fool
Second round: ice his wounds, unzip, embalm, restitch
Third round: decapitate this bitch
I wasn’t gonna even write a third round
I was just gon smack the shit out you just to spike the views
But no need, I’m sick at home he ain’t gon’ pass around
I run through everybody, I’m like the flu, wait…
Sick at home, pass a round, I run through every body, I’m like the flu
Let’s get it on, I make it rain on ’em, no slight shower, what I play bang on ’em
First scene of Dark Knight, they expecting a body on your flight coward
You soft, white powder, I’ll get your Klan covered in sheets, white power
I’ll hire a nigga just to fire, Mike Brown ’em
You a street nigga in Jersey? Y’all hoods ain’t like ours
Cause our trips really be gripping and full clipping, he different
He make that purple look bad, “cuz” you playing
You soft inside, Dwight Howard
I can crush any bitch you got a crush on
So you are sour
So U R sour, S.O.U.R. Sour
Approach his bitch, unbutton my trousers
Try to get some head out her, she front til she hit that E
Than open up; no web browser
Afterwards I read flowers her, buh-lowz her
Head explodes, this ain’t even my showtime
This just a scary opening scene before the credit roll
Dead cactus, bed mattress, I never fold
Four Vic you, forgive you
How I let it go
Every battle from Ars’ is a rerun, same episode
Except his clothes
I’m giving out Hell, Heaven knows
I’m cracking skulls, snatching souls, who Baptist old?
Head for ‘quo average rapping hoe, this is a certain win
This shirts verse skins, I’m shirt, you skin
Nigga you ain’t putting Jersey on
Hell you can’t even practice in my practice clothes
No, y’all know that Magic show?
Y’all done waited in that long line
Strap on your 3D glasses so you can see this casket
I ride up, nah I’m walking
No pretty shit, no perm and wave up, black face nappy dread with it
Swag of a Jersey native, copped my Mossberg from the pawn shop
You could tell it’s used, the pumps loose
I can cock it doing the Elvis move
Arsenal get the running but if Arsenal get to dumping
I hold it steady and double down before I blow out his stomach
Last time I had to double back like a camel, I ain’t’ know nothing
I’m a professional now, I bust one time, like a old nigga fucking
That’s me, that’s how you rap fool
Your acrobatic axle of a pterodactyl land or in Shaq food, nigga that’s you
St. Lou, every nigga that come to this bitch, I’m boxing and sending back
Nah, Cinemax, you not into that, you internet
You and the streets don’t interact, you got intellect
This Crip shit is just your inner act, I get to that in a sec
I’m on his set throwing bullets wild, if he don’t catch
The quarter intercept
The coroner, I witness death Immortal, I give him that
He dies then the Mummy returns, he’s Lord Imhotep
[?] but I don’t see a threat

[Round 2: Arsonal]
2010, I let Chingy slide, I figured he a bitch and…
Yung III was the assist man
RemyD was the sixth man
At Fight Klub I treated him like a kick stand
And eight words made Aye Verb go and hire a Hitman
Them bars put you on nigga
Niggas wasn’t searching for no Aye Verb
St. Louis knew you was a gay bird off First 48 with your face blurred
Same nigga who run errands for Kijuan to get his tape heard
Same nigga that tried to expose my nigga Hitman Holla to be a straight nerd
But you said, and I quote
“When battle rappers tell on each other, One phrase sets in mind…
“Y’all a bunch of niggas moving the same, the electric slide”
Now when I heard that I was like “Damn Aye Verb that was a clever line”
But than I looked at your battle with Hitman- you know what, nevermind
Me, Surf and Red, we could’ve lost our lives in the D for what Suge said
But we still went, that’s real brother shit
But you and Hitman Holla, y’all on some other shit
I mean how y’all share secrets, get on this same stage A
Nd publicly discuss the shit? if you don’t respect the nigga, just do it Nike
Meaning check the nigga you running with
Now I can tell y’all friendship ain’t wrapped that tight
That was a cheap disguise
Over the years y’all niggas grew far apart
And y’all stayed separated, y’all like Moesha eyes
We couldn’t turn your dyke mother into a natural woman
Even if Aretha tried Now that’s foul so I get two shots even/ time you get penalized
We in the Lou, this pay-per-view
Niggas could view your death on a big screen
You said this like a scary movie, right?
Well this without the virgin showing the tits scene
Cause I’ma do your bitch dirty if that chick clean
Meaning I put my dick by her clit ring and then start to beat I let it lip sync
That bitch mean, she said “Ars if you don’t kill me, I’ll expose him”
I said, “You better not lie bitch Now show me everything you showed him”
I wasn’t gon clip her (Clipper) But I put the 7 in her back that I owed him (Odom)
And Hitman was the first on the crime scene picking up empty shell cases trying to reload ’em
Now UW up here my nigga, Word War, y’all not as real
I’m at casino, Q penny pension
You should know how David’s Copper feels (Copperfield)
You Missouri niggas gotta chill
I’m all about a Benjamin
Even in Player’s Club the St. Louis nigga wasted his time Chasing a dollar bill
But since we on movies, no mag clap I go class act on this gay nigga
That mean a large butterfly knife will get wedged in your face nigga
Your name Chaz Duncan
Add the Penderhue, he a fake nigga
Then stab him til the blood on my blade brown if you Clay nigga
That’s why your name Aye Verb and not AK-Verb
Cause them choppers, you don’t play with ’em
To this street shit I knew that you was new
That’s why you ain’t bring your K with ’em
I said to this street shit I KNEW he was NEW
That’s why he ain’t bring his “K” with ’em
My bullets like Delta, they fly everywhere I could let a stray hit ’em
Nah my bullets got herpes, no matter how they get treated they gotta stay in ’em
Chaz, you a punk, who should get his ass slumped
My St. Louis niggas still Cripping, B Magic, cuz wassup?
I flash a mac and have him running like this was track
So you better pass the Lou’ baton before I hit you with a pump
Hold on, Louboutin, Red Bottom, Pump, Headshot ’em
Either way he and up dead in the and (Indian)
So I’ma red dot him
As y’all can see, I’m on vacation, but I still let my lead pop him
Cause my gun still get fired on his day off like he got that Craig problem
And if I let it off, Ill gon’ let more than a medic call
And I advise Big Gerald tell Little Gerald don’t get involved YSL belt keep a tight waist or my weapon fall
If that happen I gotta grab my shank
And let it swipe Chase like he the debit card
Aye Machete, tell these niggas my machete game surgical
I rip you from your scrotum to your sternum, that’s how I murder you
Put the blade in your stomach, twist it, then swing it vertical
But on your moms I use Hollows to fill her, don’t take it personal
Hold up, fill his, personal, words that’s reversible
Verb you can use whatever you like, it ain’t gon work for you
Niggas called me and said they driving to the Lou
That mean it’s time to ride, murder, kill, 187, code for homicide
Niggas get behind these bars and you’ll “give us free”
Like this was Amistad
But let’s be blunt, I’ma roll up and smoke not just him but the whole entourage
Now I’m in your state on the interstate, I’m strapped up like a trooper
Bad bitch riding shotgun with a shotgun blowing me like a Tuba
We get to the crime scene, shells everywhere
All that’s missing is King Koopa
So I use Hollow’s to put a tip in ’em as I smoke ’em like he a Hookah
You leaving alone these groupies ain’t trying to dip set with a loser
You ain’t trying to see blood leave this Crip wet with your Ruger
You don’t bust your gun, you Marv Albert
You commentating next to Reggie Miller and Steve Kurr Y
Ou pop shit cause you sit next to the shooters
Nigga my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
But you can’t spell “bars” without putting that “ars” in it

[Round 2: Aye Verb]
There’s something strange about you Ars’, is it your hunger for bread?
Your rhyme pattern a lil’ better
What bitch you slipped and bumped your lil’ head?
Nah, he knew he was gon need some help, so what you run to 0-Red?
A nigga I already killed, so what? You summons the dead?
Surf do hoe shit sometimes cause fame go to his head
You do most of the time like when you gotta go to the Feds You get locked down, you’ll lube up, I get locked, I’m making rules up
One shank made from a toothbrush
Taking niggas fruit cups, I’m too much
This a new pup versus a Werewolf from Underworld when the moon up
Ka-boom-buck! Versus a balloon bust, he get tuned up
Beef, I’m in your hood, tooled up, fixing any problem that I see
This a tune-up
Ars, you battle ‘Verb you get a buzz; crew cut
Beating me won’t workout, fat bitch, Zumba
Your girlfriend, she through bruh, Lady Arsenal?
You can’t doll that bitch up
She man looking you got to groom her
Bazooka, with shells the same size as a tumor
I goon up and be behind niggas backs like a rumor
We are not the same so how dare you confuse us
You live hurr?
Nigga you’ll be getting punked by a pool bus
If I live thurr, through y’all roughest boondocks I’ll moonwalk
Jumanji, Jeepers Creepers terrorizing every kid on that school bus
And prove what?
It’s killers In my fam’, I’m Ken, I can prove it
If they riding, I’m rolling down forward like I’m throwing a Hydouken
Stupid, Street Fighter, Ken, Rolling down forward, throwing a Hydouken
Nigga you just be lyrically waving the pistol, nigga I’m shooting
Okay let’s quit Ars’ I’m getting pissed off, this is lift off verse a cliff haul
You got kid bars, Kriss Kross
I got boss talk, Rick Ross
This the NFL kick off versus the milf league, kick ball
This is NBA versus [?], this is Chris Paul vs. [?]
Two bad guys, this is Jason versus Jigsaw
A nigga that be like “Yeah, baby I’ll buy you anything you want” vers’ “Bitch Nawl!”
I’m Quick Draw McGraw I take out I withdraw
You shoot at me, I’m seeing red I let it ring back like I’m returning a fucking missed call
After my next round, they gon’ be like “Damn we missed Ars’ He was ill til they brought him to vet like a sick dog”
This my turf, nigga you starburst, how the stars work
All your preparation and hard work means nothing versus Gods work
You up, you down, you down, you up, your career like how a garage work I
‘m worried about 4 tires, flip that, what you tired for?
This God’s work, a nigga tryna be a real bitch?
That’s a drag queen
Flip that, you a bitch tryna be a real nigga, you a drag king
I want every nigga who look like you dead and that’s a bad thing
I’ll let this mac sing at every single living dread head, no Maxine

[Round 3: Arsonal]
I was told I can’t step pinky toe past the Midwest
What happened?
Chase said I’m good?
Lil’ sis don’t get your shit cracking
You thought I would be good all the way, like I said
Who said that? Who said that?
Aight I got something for you too
You thought I was gon come to the Lou, unarmed?
Well I got some Piru’s and some baby Loc’s in the building Strapped with some big shit
So if yo clique trip and approach this stage like they was Trick Trick
You gon think Jeezy just kilt the club the way I RIP shit
Now you from Pagedale, well I’m Greyhound back
I’m shooting 3’s from behind the arc like I stay downtown
I spray rounds clown, I let that tre pound sound
I lift this piece up and knock everybody in A Town down
Now you say you flop, but you ain’t trained to drive a car with no gas
You a plain nigga, not on your bike, big wheels caused him to crash
You need a ride? I get you shipped to your father so fast
On the highway to heaven you can get bus(t) before they call you a cab
Now I’m part of the mile high club nigga, pardon my swag You in a stretched out hearse in a coffin so mad
Your mom’s a Tram, a poor Haitian without a car and a bag
Excuse my French I just gave ’em transportation to the coroners bag
Now y’all thought I was scared to come to St. Louis cause of the murder rate?
Well this look like we in motherfucking St. Louis
And right now I feel like I own the place
Shoe string around my neck support my tec an I could hold it straight
My lead hot, no leg shot will make this nigga need a shoulder brace
After Chi-raq ain’t this the murder cap?
Where niggas get murdered at?
Real shit, after Chi-raq ain’t this the murder cap?
Where niggas get murdered at?
Well I got en AR and a nigga name Ar-ab that’ll take that murder wrap
I got a six shooter 357 black, Bernie Mac
Just the tip of the hollow hit you but I’ll never drop the turtle’s back
Meaning the shell casing in my possession, shooting is my profession
I let it ring from down on one knee like I’m the nigga to pop the question
I’m a gunsmith and I cock the Wessun, walk in your studio stop your session
If three niggas start to whip yo ass, it’s me, my shadow, and my reflection
And you said in St. Louis y’all judge niggas on where they come from and how they look in yo eyes
Well I’m from Newark and I’m in yo city, an pussy look me in mine
You was made to get wet, that’s how’s pussy’s designed
I’m Crip forever, and for me it it goes with Tookie and Shine
Last night I had a talk with God, he said, “Ars!”
I said, “yes Lord”
He said “why’d you take Verb? Is it the money?” I said, “I’m just bored”
He said, “he better take it easy in his death race, he hollering king me
And you got checkmate, he playing checkers on your chess board
A wise man won’t waste his life, he’ll monitor where the time goes
While you stupid dudes try to configure a Rubix Cube with your eyes closed
I said, “Lord he was in a rough
So that just gave ’em the green to give him 9 holes”
But I’m a give his Boss ten (Boston) like that nigga trying to get Rondo’d
Nine iron out the Caddy, like a golfer that’s in grind mode
One hit at the baseline and all my cutski’s in Lebron mode
He said “oh, well you made me a believer nigga I’m sold
Take that Larkin proceed with caution and leave Verb John Doe’d
But he asked for a favor, he said mid battle, [hush your mouth]
He asked for a favor, he said mid battle, walk to the center of the stage
And yell “Ill and Holla they soft now, they was some killers with they braids.”
You gon leave that whole city in a maze, and I give you Moses powers
Enabling you to put a split through the middle of his waves
Aye Verb, hand to hand you don’t work well
You Midwest niggas beef but don’t want beef with the east
Y’all riding a nigga coattail
Why Terraneo ain’t battle Rajon yet? I won’t tell
But I already put Cal up under, I guess he don’t Surf well
Get it? Cal up under, cowabunga, surf well
And if not I’ll chip you fast with some polish or a toe nail
Nigga, I ain’t leave Surf in Detroit, Smack know
That day he ain’t had no bail, he was locked up for a strap
A subject you wouldn’t know well
My nigga was Wanted with Angelina Jolie aim
So you gon see Mr. & Mrs. Smith & Wessun flash
To put you in a freeze frame
I’m throwing bullets from a powerful Glock
With RG3 Aim
Chase this battle was supposed to be Memorial Day
This shit got pushed back gor y’all to hear lines (hairlines) like I’m King James
I bring pain, I pay cash for the hate, I don’t need change
A 45 will knock the holiday heart right out of Ving Rhames
You gon meet a killer straight in his eyes feeling him scared back
Butter knife to yo Achilles Tendon and slowly I tear that
You skydiving with no parachute trying to land on an airmat But this worse than getting caught bareback at a bear trap
Damn, I’m a problem in the spot
Hitman you be doing the remixing to I’m a remix and bring it from the bottom to the top
This here gon be worse that getting caught bareback in a bear trap You skydiving with no parachute, trying to land on en air mat Butter knife to yo Achilles
Tendon and slowly I tear that You looking your killer straight, you looking your killer straight
You looking your killer straight in his eyes feeling him stare back
And if you survive this ass whooping
You’ll get shot by a Jersey niggas cannon
I swear to God I will not do dash living
My new verses is too perfect, you can’t compare to my past writtens
Plastic over my gun handle, that’s how killers play bad mitten Now everybody in the club getting’ Tipsy
For real doe
“I’m only one call away”
With a steel fo’
I got my Eagle on but I don’t drop it real low
My strap on cock and I ain’t talking about a dildo
Now how you try to school Hitman?
He run the Lou nigga
Who the fuck made you that boss?
Giving his pop advice on how to speak to him
And yo’ daddy never gave you that talk
Nigga you was never liked in your life, I’m the type I dismantle frauds
You was talking about a bike, but I dyke
That’s the main reason you can’t handle bars
Now if a man’s raised by a bitch, he grows up with loving heart
Don’t get it wrong, he could still have that killer instinct
But he emotional from the start
The saying is “It take a village to raise a child, but a man when raising a boy”
So Verb how you feel 5 years old watching your mother play with her toy?
To all that shit you just spit in them last rounds nigga they don’t exist
When a dyke was all that you had
What the fuck you gon say to your son when he say to you “Aye, who fathered you Dad?”
Aye Big Gerald! At least your sons acknowledged you nigga
And they new you as Dad
Aye Lil Gerald! Nigga that’s how you talk to a fag!
Nigga my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell “bars” without putting that “ars” in it
NO! My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
3 Rounds, not a perm jokes, all fucking bars in it

[Round 3: Aye Verb]
When I was creating my 3’d round I was thinking of all ways to degrade you
Bars after bars after bars, the shit I was gon say, woo!
Went through every last one of them lines in my head And threw em away, shoo!
You can’t come at no negative nigga with no negative shit That ain’t gon phase you, nah nigga you need phase 2
That’s when I put you in the ground, but I keep you out the grave too
It’s gon be “all praise to Allah” or whoever the fuck you pray to
Cause this round, I ain’t gon slay you black man, I’m a do worse…I’ma save you
You a coward, you ain’t brave fool cause that day in Detroit with Trick Trick rushed that stage you
Did one little thing that made me wanna question the gangstas that raised you
When they approached you
You stepped back and pushed yo’ niggas to the front
And was like, “watch dem niggas bruh,” if you was a real nigga
You’d a stepped to the front and pushed them niggas back And be like “Watch these niggas bruh”
You’ll sacrifice your peoples live for some rap, nigga?
Lines just so you can keep making it big they suppose to be ready to die? Why?
See I ain’t built like that, I lost partners in my past, that’s hurtful
Seeing my partner pass and his daughter got his face, that’s hurtful
So this lil’ pretend gangsta Crip shit that you and Surf do
Tah, the nerve of you
Y’all wanna be killers? Well kill something then
Do some time, go in, curfew
Have a shootout on camera, put it on Youtube an the fans can search too
But you will see (C) when somebody take out half that circle You the black mans abomination, but you the white mans golden boy
When them crackers in high power hear you rapping
They be like, “You go there boy.”
Cause as long as you keep spitting this street fictional bullshit
While your verses flowing
Credit cards getting swiped for funerals, you selling hearses for ’em
Guns and butter you lil dumb motherfucker
Commerce nigga
I couldn’t even talk this fucking lingo with ’em
Can’t even converse with em
So let’s just dumb it down an it can get through
Example: to Hitman fans he be trripping
He hot head but he thorough boy
He’ll let that ratchet blam and use his hands
But he got the footage to back it up on Worldstar, nigga where’s yours?
Oh, let me guess, let me guess, you a business man
But you can’t gang bang and do business, man
You can’t be on It but not on it, this what you represent nigga, own it
Talk some game to the young Crip niggas, teach ’em something, you gotta show ’em
You wanna do some dirt? Do some dirt and stay free
That’s the sole (soul) plan
There’s a bigger G than being a gangsta It’s called a Grown man
Before the beef, avoid the beef if you can
But hell, tell ’em Ars, if they gotta shoot, switch up they stance
Shoot with the wrong hand judge think he got the wrong man
Why I gotta do this for you?
Listen boy, every action has a reaction so let me ask you
What are you Cripping for?
Was your daddy with the shit before?
You knew you wasn’t built for war, you needed niggas to rip the four
Maybe you did it for the bitches or
Everybody in the neighborhood picked red and you picked blue just to be different or
They helped you get permission before
What the fuck? You over here spitting bars this a powerful tact
You young niggas now-a-days, y’all straight punks
We was taught that cowards ride in packs
[?] they voice
What that OG say?
Put that gun down Craig, put up your dukes
Be a man, you fight, you live to fight another day
You think life is a joke Ars?
Motherfucker, no
Change your ways you ugly ass boy, you doing this for the show
Cause when your dumbass get blast or get slashed by the throat
These niggas, they gon wear your T-shirt for two days
They ain’t gon cut your mama grass
You think they gon shovel her snow?
All night long I [?] your ass with this throat
That was just some real shit I thought you should know
Fucking hoe…

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