Big T vs. K-Shine [Lyrics]

[Round 1: K-Shine]
We ain’t even the same T, I guess that’s why this feeling kinda odd
I mean we shuffle the same deck but we play different type of cards
I call a spade a spade nigga and you cut with a different type of heart
If I woulda got shot around I wouldn’t have told my story behind bars
I’d a shot around and then told my story behind BARS!
But what’s the first thing you do?
You jump yo fat stankin ass on a computer
And do a blog glorifying a man damn near hitting ya medulla
But there was never a blog you picking ya tool up
There was never a blog about you gripping ya Ruger
There was never a blog about you splitting his crew up
So glorify what T? That’s the shit that confuse us
Cuz real niggas don’t respect who get shot, we respect the shooter!
But I’m happy you survived T, I’m keeping that too G
Cuz that was a given from God, thank you
For blessing me with the opportunity to finish the job
I slide in that SUV while the windows is dark
Then *scoop* under ya jeep before ya engine can start
I put that Dessie out the window, give it a spark
And make that hit out the van like I’m Kendrick Lamar
I’da had that whole scene filled with bibles and churches
Recitals from verses, ain’t no need for riding in hearses
It’s like he getting crucified if he surviving the first hit
I come back to cross T like I’m writing in cursive, nigga
I tell a nigga so it ain’t no GOOD TIMES if a nigga grip the toast
I put you IN A DIFFERENT WORLD
Gotta shoot it with a DIFFERENT STROKE
You MARRIED WITH CHILDREN? Well that’s coming in handy
I got incest bullets that keep em ALL IN THE FAMILY
You ain’t SAVED BY THE BELL, nigga if I grip the eagle
These twin nines will have y’all niggas LIVING SINGLE
That’s the WAYANS BROTHERS, SISTER SISTER
When I pull out everybody get it
I don’t care if it’s a FULL HOUSE you pull out, take you off the air
Squeeze 3, why he in a chair? So he could really sit calm (Sitcom)
When I’m hitting up T, V
Don’t act out, that fat mouth be the reason ya cats getting sprayed
What you chatting bout? Got niggas trying to jack what he say?
That’s gon give half of y’all the mac, the other half get that
“Ch-Ch” and bang, all it takes is T bars (T-Boz)
To get that Mac 10 in gauged
Get it? T-Boz got Mack 10 engaged
I got a whole bunch of rapping shit, nigga had one battle
You never had no classic shit
You bodied Clips and he lost that, so let me get into my classic shit
Some shit like, “how you want it nigga? Shotty or Tommy?
Corner store setup or shot in the lobby?
Have ya complex looking like the night of the zombie
I ace ya whole hood and put ya bodies in bodies
As far as these rhymes I done mastered this
He only had two battles, no classic shit
Should I get right back to my classic shit?
Rex, get right back to that classic shit? I say, how you want it nigga?
Sike, another Midwest nigga with a death wish
Sawed off shotty fuck around and eat the breadsticks
I switch it to an AK fire it til the lead hit, walk up to the body
Give em that ‘is he dead’ kick
Then fire every round with that chopper until my leg slip
ZIP EM UP!

[Round 1: Big T]

You know I was watching Loaded Lux vs. Calicoe, right
I remember watching the shit
He was talking bout a black man being locked in the shit
Talk about his father being lost in the shit, nigga I give props to his shit
He got us black people on some positive shit
But me, I’m with the total opposite shit
Nigga, I’m with rocks on the strip, glocks on the hip
Bullets ricocheting and hitting people that’s not with the shit
Everyone from the neighborhood watch getting hit
From the nigga that bought the donuts to the nino who sponsor the shit
Shine gon wonder where his confidence went
Cuz Mr. Chalakboo back, but now he boo boo boo baka and shit
Smack gon lose Ciroc sponsorship cuz T a killer like 1800
Shot’s will be taking out the top of his shit
Boy I squeeze iron lead, police sirens sped, sirens beam white and red
His whole team finally fled
Boy ain’t nothing funny here when the police find him dead
I ain’t giving the bunny ears
When I hold up this piece/peace behind his head
Look, we are not the same
My team look like they was on block with a rock exchanged
Your team look like they get watched for a soccer game
When I was paying the light company in my mama name
You look like you still couldn’t have company til ya mama came
We don’t check the same, we don’t get the same checks
So don’t expect the same, cadets the same, we don’t rep the same set
Or get respect the same, except the same, ya niggas in mind
Is it the dress the same?
Only thing I have in common with Shine is we sweat the same
I bet this lame be so gangsta’d up at the show
You roll the curtains, niggas be straight fags after the show
What’s so disturbing
I don’t know if I’m doing Smack shit or being catfished
Cuz the nigga you see on the net, when ya turn is to meet ‘em in real life
They a whole ‘nother person
I get to murkin’ this boy out, thirst wrapped with some po’s
Cut all that noise out, bring ya boys out
But I bet you my boys will knock ya boys out
If we lose than bring some smores out cuz in my camp
I keep everybody around that would/wood fire like boy scouts
So what this boy bout? Please believe, that mean we got the heat Believe, but if you think we ain’t swinging these
And ya brains don’t get to thinking to weave
You gon stay there til they help you get back on ya feet
Like a friend in need
We got another 5 foot nigga with a death wish!
Headshot, I have his brains lookin’ like Chex Mix
Techs pop, I’m rearranging his blocks, I’m playing Tetris
I put 125th on 122nd, 122nd will be on 127th
One way traffic, ERRRRGH! Reverse in other directions
Put uptown in downtown I switch (?) and Granwich
Couldn’t tell East from West cuz I left Madison in Lennox
Why you all ecstatic? This clip big enough to let all you have it
This banana peel catch him slippin and split all ya cabbage
If I reach for this son to die, when I palm the ‘matic
And get rid of this fruit seed what I palm a granite (Pomegranate)
And okay Shine, this ‘matics as fast as the OK shine
BRAH! Thunder hitting his chest, I OK Shine
Rex panicking over the body like, “Okay Shine!”
Mook pulling him close like “it’s gon be okay Shine”
And they ain’t lying it ain’t straight class when ya mama there
You acting class I bring Drama there
If I see you, they gon have to IV you in ICU trauma care
Y’all brought a Chicago ‘rilla against a Harlem Koala bear
They in this bitch shooken 
Cuz the clip lookin like the bottom leg on a rocking chair
Quiet!!!

[Round 2: K-Shine]

You the type of nigga that rap long to get ya point thru
And do a whole bunch of lines to make ya schemes flew
But I could do the same thing too nigga
I’ll have that trigger spittin’ peels if that thing flu
So I advise you to ADVIL if it’s beef too
It bubble like ALKER SELTZER plus, I gotta beam too
You on the floor hitting tile and all (TYLENOL) when I creep thru
Anybody thinking he ill, I’m giving T 2
In other words when I’m lettin’ it peel, it’ll leave (ALEVE) you
Aye Ars, I don’t just shoot ‘em, I beat ‘em with the piece too
And get to see the clip before it come out, that’s the pre-view
G what? G who? Shutup, you pussy T
Once I get to poppin’ that Larkin you better Boogie T
I start with twins, two clips bout as long as my foot
I gotta hook ‘em T, I drop one show he don’t need his brother to pop
That’s how you push a T (Pusha T)
Nigga that’s twin techs tossin’ tootsie rolls, take a treat
Two tackle, touch him from his toes to his teeth
When they come to catching bodies I got it down to a T
Assault rifles with the kickstand, I let the legs drop
Slide it up and take out the loaf nigga, bread box
The front the barrel come with a scope, nigga, red dot
Fat bitch on instagram, all it take is headshots
Stick a fork in ‘em, that torch hit ‘em, that man thru
Whoever spoon feeding this nigga giving the wrong scoop
Thinking I’m a plate that you die in I’m letting 10 shoot
If you ain’t never think before that order, get the menu
Wait, I probably gotta say it like dude to convince you
Bol, if you ain’t never think before that order, get them in you
Yeah, let me guess, that’s yo style? You started it?
When I hand these cap (handicap) you be doing some retarded shit
The Doctor think he a game-boy when that larkin hit
That battery in his back, but that top is where the cartridge is
I say he had one battle and that was with Clips
That was the only body he had that had some classic shit
Now I could switch it up and get into some drastic shit
Or I could switch it up and get into my classic shit
Like… he think he Big Meech! Larry Hoover!
He holding heat, but he’s not the shooter!
He a doja nigga, when the cops at large
They throw the heat at him and make him take the fucking charge!
ZIP EM UP!

[Round 2: Big T]

Smack hit my line like, “what you think about K-Shine?”
I’m like, “you know I watched his battle a couple times
You know that nigga got some creative rhymes”
Well he like “I hope that nigga next
See I hope you got some crazy rhymes”
I switch my whole shit up like “nigga, FUCK K-SHINE!”
Y’all think I came to New York all these times
And ain’t get my foot in the door
Like I ain’t got killers from Bed Stuy to get me heat
To get him put in the morgue
Just cuz I got a plane that’s finna leave
You don’t think I end up pullin’ this four
It’s gon remind ‘em of the 3rd round against DNA
Cuz I’m finna give em a bullet-in board, you heard it before
Harlem was the money makers
I heard it before, they said Harlem was the money makers
They said they was winning when they was buying ‘em
Now they falling off with the wight (Dwight) like the Lakers
But before I take a loss to New York
I found out where he stay out in Harlem
And set up traps all over they place like McCauley Culkin
Like what you starting for? You going against the artist, boy
Grew up in the art of war, nigga I spark the four
And spark the four up at apartment floor
I yell my young niggas Roscoe
They like “T, why’d you name ‘em Roscoe and Martin for?”
Cuz I have my young boy with that nose running in that apartment door
BLOAW! You get a glock to the mouth, you get a glock to ya scalp
Shana Ashley, that fat bitch scream, we knocking her out
If you don’t give us what you got in that couch
The crime scene gon look like a Chief Keef video
Be a whole bunch of young niggas shot in the house
Nigga I wish somebody shoot the mall up while you window shopping
Nigga I wish doing a race in Boston during the bombing
Ya whole family was in that jogging
Nigga I wish ya pops got a job for the first time
On 9/11 but the window getting popped on
Nigga I hope in the Batman premiere theater
You accidentally get popped on walking the wrong move
And you end up getting popped on
My bad, but the Sandy Hook issue
I hope somebody shoot the mall up while you window shopping, nigga
During 9/11, I wish ya pops got a job at Tower 1 window washing
Nigga I wish you went to get popcorn walk to the wrong door
And end up getting popped on, but the Sandy Hook issue…
I don’t think killin’ no kids cool, but if it had to happen
I wish it would’ve been at yo kids school
Yeah, I know the shit cruel! But I want everybody dead
Ya mother, brother, sister, father, ya girlfriend, dog, cat
Ya bitches momma, fuck it, Dennis Rodman, his nigga’s in jail
I send a hit thru the mail, when the shit in progress
Now it’s killin’ em up on the inside like a guilty conscience
Yeah, speaking of jail
I heard since the 3 year mandatory minimum for pistols
Niggas keep ‘em in the house cool
But in Chicago we got a mandatory amount too
So how you gon put work in the streets without tools?
Nigga I got caught slippin’ before
Now a nigga can’t catch me slippin’ in some house shoes
Cuz I keep it close to me like it hold sentimental value
Nigga how you go from Dot Mob, “packing a mac in the back of the ‘ac”
To all men Cartel, to “Woooh!” They get that cartel
The whole damn car tell
And started with you Rex, nigga cuz after him next
Cuz it’s always gon be bad blood period between US
Like the U.S.
What I said it wrong? My bad, when I get in my bag I let it fly
They go over heads so shall I carry on?
Bad blood period between us like the U.S. is you not hearing this?
Between the U.S. is a period, Smack! Is you serious?
Don’t make me furious
Is 20 niggas when you was fighting Joe Light
Why wasn’t none of them niggas moving with you
They supposed to be ya blood right?
Why wasn’t none of them niggas sooing with you?
When you was biting a nigga leg fighting for ya life
Why wasn’t none of them niggas chewing with you?
When Rex got his chain took
Why wasn’t nobody else chain tooken with you?
Oh that nigga dead right, well when Mook got put in the hospital
Why wasn’t nobody else recouping with you?
Running thru Math spot hitting Math block, shooting with you
When I got hit up, it was a nigga in a hospital a hour later
When you quiet money that’s what you suppose to do, nigga
That is not a favor! You niggas is not some gangstas
All I see is a lot of wankstas, fruit cups, lot of flavors
Sweet cakes, lot of bakers
This nigga gon get a stapled center and he not a Laker
Unless this steel piece/peace be with ‘em, Assalamualaikum
Quiet!

[Round 3: K-Shine]

Yo these Midwest battle rap niggas be crazy
Like I don’t know what X on (Exxon)
But they gassed him with that weak flow
Using comedy over bars, that’s a cheat code
That takes away all of the beauty out of beast mode
That’s BULLshit 5, that’s why he’ll never be the reason the D. Rose
But as far as T goes, 45 aim at that noggin
Make a peep hole, put 23 in his back then I reload
That’s all Jordan numbers that I’m using when that heat blow
That bullshit 5 the reason you seeing D’s rose
I ain’t come here to play with you, you fat stinking nigga
What bitch wanna lay with you?
Fuck boy I could get you murked in a day or two
No casket, only thing left was a braid or two
But this kid is a lame, he’s garbage, and he’s fat
So with the cig, to the flame, he would hardly, be a match
Give a click, it’ll bang, it ain’t hard to get em whacked
Cuz every rapper with BIG in they name get a (RIP attached)
I’m feeling like Big Poppa, who shot ya? Should’ve hit ya head
Separate the weak from the obsolete, that’s why these niggas dead
A Big L, a nina’s my glock, my beam is my glock

A Big Pun dead in the little of middle Italy
Posted up with a milly b push you back like a Billy T
You big where? On the couch drinking that Dick Gregory
Shot by a nigga 5’7” going on his 3rd felony
A bunch of talkin but I really don’t feel ya
Everybody bananas till that milly go peel ya
For you fags, I got a new pistol all silver
With fruit loops in the box, I’m a cereal/serial killer
The bulldog barkin, had to get it a muzzle now
It’s HIV it’ll kill you for trying to fuck around
I’m pissed off, all the silly talk better cut it down
Be Kriss Krossed when that mickity mac make you jump around
You gon make me put a shell into something
Get that nigga forehead like he felling or something
Have him taken off yelling for something
I hit that nigga smooth on his feet like he jellin or something
Fat bastard, y’all think this nigga tough?
Even tho y’all hating I fuck with ya’ll, Zip Em Up!

[Round 3: Big T]

Man that track would tell me K-Shine was gay
I’m like “don’t accuse that,”
So what if he got caught talking to a transsexual over the internet, right?
We can’t prove that
But in a group track you asked for his number
He said he was dude and you knew that, the world viewed that
Now all of a sudden you hot? Shine, how you do that?
Is this the dude that you niggas got for rhyming?
What bullshit he got you buying? The nigga that got behind him
So y’all depended on a fag to take y’all there?
So y’all depended on a fairy to take y’all to the next level
Like Staten Island? What you think about Dot Mob in beef?
They making noise? Not a squeak, would they blast a mag? Not in me
Would they smack yo ass? …Probably
You gotta be a fag Professor that’s why hoes never have respect for Shine
We all know what happened between ya ass and Phara
But a bitch play with the ops that’s when the games stop
I get that hammer check her, I phillip (feel lip) screw-driving her
I get the tool box black and deck her/decker, you heckler weak fake
Boy you wouldn’t believe them screams ya peeps made
Next thing she giving face to me and my teammates
Eating plates that she made
Fucking that bitch up on the same bed that he laid
Cutting on the mattress, bustin’ the walls open like a police raid
But for pete’s sake boy that head you gotta imagine
Boy I heard she could swallow ya children, after you have ‘em
But that ass wasn’t that nice, me and my man bitches treat bitches like
Instagram, when we taggin it and we see something we like
We tap twice, but act like you wanna fight for that skeez if you want
You snap like a TWIG and turn ya family TREE into chucks?
You’ll get STUMPED and LEAVE with ya LIMBS in a TRUNK
My bad, twig, tree, stump, wood, leaves, trunk
Whatever, that’s my style, I started it
But a rhyme so smart as shit it sound like some retarded shit
But who it started with? Get that nigga Rex? Okay
I put the lead to Rex like an Etch-a-sketch
If I gotta put these t-t-t-techs to Rex, it’s gonna get t-t-t-T-Rex tourettes
Yes that’s how I feel, it’s disrespect for Rex, fuck ‘em
When I see ‘em on sight, X and X
This 9 will hit his spine and make his legs a mess
But this 9 will turn Professor Shine to Professor X
Yes I bet you wanted a fade
See if I got hands like I’m a let these niggas jump me on stage, fat chance
You gon look surprised when you see the gun on the stage
And when the gat blam, you gon see more dots up in a maze
Then Mrs. Pacman, that gat blam make it rock long as a cradle
Hit ‘em at the appropriate angle, that boy will spin long as a dradle
The clip will talk to ‘em and the gun tale long as a fable
And I let it all out like we leaving everything all on the table
Quiet!

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