LottaZay vs. Tone Montana [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tone Montana]

They predicted this battle to be classic, well… that ain’t farfetched
My words cut deep when I speak, leave scar fleshed
You pretty sharp yourself, I expect this to be a bar fest
But when I get complexed he gon leave with a complex
That arm stretched I gotta get loose leaf for that arm flex
If he flash I flash back, Vietnam vet
All that nonsense got a nigga beyond stressed
Y’all gone soon realize I’m god, them just god blessed
Now I’m under the assumption that New York love lyrical content
Well I’m mean, he average, please don’t take that out of context
Truthfully I don’t even think that this shit is a contest
But I know how to win battles with pristines, schemes and concepts
See my right hand man name is cal, he 40, that nigga ignorant
He spit when he talk he loud and belligerent
His daughter name Nina, the head shot ridiculous
She sixteen and pregnant, about to have triplets
I told y’all this shit was pristine you thought it was done?
See Cal got a wife, she don’t barely come out
Whenever Cal get in some shit she there bailing him out
Her name Tracy, she 38, with six kids, all she really about
She chunky with a wide nose but she take care of the house
Mac, he eleven thats Nina little brother
He adopted, only been there a couple of summers
He got tourette syndrome and that lil nigga stutter
He be screamin’ fu-fu-fu-fuck you motherfuckers
See my left hand name death, when it swing he a goner
My right hand will put a HO in E R no honor nigga
You gon have the same fate as Christopher Darner nigga
You wanna know what that is? Death before Dishonor nigga
I’m honored to be here on this Smack stage, it’s game time
Last night I seen the trailer, I was on that bitch with X Factor and K Shine
All the fuck I know, is that it’s game time
But who the fuck cuttin’ y’all heads? Y’all got the same lines
I be in them clouds lookin like a star
Three point fives is what’s in my cigar
S K S K A A R, turn his shit to a scooter and it used to be a car
I’m far from a lame, hard to contain
Robbing me is like trying to go to mars on a plane
I whip cocaine, sit it on a flame
Stir it in a circle watch it change into change
I ain’t the type of nigga you can take for granted
Don’t try to take advantage unless you can take some damage
I put bread on yo head like ya face a sandwich
I’m always in somebody hood, I’m a great mechanic
Put it in the air, I don’t care if I fuck up the planet
Smoke too much to buy that’s why I started to plant it
Have a nigga dearly departed if I start blammin’
Real here, wheelchair nigga that can’t stand it
Zay, I wasn’t doing this shit for money
I was doing it for respect, but now that Smack cutting checks
Who the fuck next?!

[Round 1: Lotta Zay]

It’s Lotta Zay verse …. Fuck is his name son?
Oh, nigga from spit that heat, well nigga I spit that heat
And I don’t know where the fuck you came from
This game oversaturated with a bunch of lame bums
These new niggas the main ones, running ya mouth all you do
Til I come to the hood and start jammin’ in the PJ’s like house party 2
I’m down to shoot, they should’ve told you what I do to you nigga
Oh you think I’m lying king?
Well I ain’t Johnnie Alcatraz in the musicals nigga
When I say that ten foil, it ain’t aluminum nigga
That will have get T O N E M O –
And (N) ten will have you searched for like I googled you nigga
Just cuz I sing don’t confuse me my nigga I’m garnered with weapons
And my niggas always down like post parderned depression
Send you to that god up in heaven, ya mama calling them reverends
All cuz you got them text/techs fucked up like auto correction
Talking all reckless I leave you with a holy temple all to ya dome
Next I’m not gon pull pits of ya but if I spirit, I’m still lifting ya soul next
Old bitch you weary, few in a row, I’m sending him home next
Wait, ain’t no next cuz when we acquire we only singing for Tone death
I’m so messed up, fuck I gotta stop this shit
Cuz if I let you hear this barrel Tone, it wont be an low octive pitch
It’s like a phone when I pop the shit, ya whole team die
You tone, wait a minute I got you playa
Cuz I’m a star so when I push this zero I’m a send him to the operator
I’m a give you this work like an occupator
I got a hearse for you gangsta, you bout to spit a lot of personals ain’t ya?
Well my man pop the strap
He gon make sure it arch ya back like a personal favor
That’s how you get a nigga to handle the body tone like a personal trainer
No person can save ya, when I’m poppin’ at you dudes
Now you at a hospital, doc is like who’s who?
Poppin’ a deuce deuce, come up to the spot while you got writers block
Bullets keep going to the pad like the guy from Blues Clues
My mind got a loose screw, you rocking some new jewels
I keeping clicking on Tone like im watching his youtubes
I’m not what you’re used to, so when I bring them hammy’s closer
Bullets will be changing ya skin tone to the white meat like Sammy Sosa
Fam it’s over, you catching a body? Not today
Ya head will get knocked away, it’s Lotta Zay,
The nigga that bodied Shotgun Suge so bad the footage got locked away
You want drama? Wait. He want drama? Wait
I’m a pop that chrome
His team gon have to watch that tone like his momma say
Get a vest bitch, I’m like Jeffery from the Fresh Prince
Every time I’m on the scene I always got the trey
Fuck what you got to say, all my niggas keep the chopper
And we all got lil patience, like Conceited doctor
I’m walking around with a burner on it
It got no numbers on it, that can scratched off like I’m drinking Monster
But if he think he mobster I’m a swing and drop em
That’s when I’m a be bad like I’m stealing on em like a secret shopper
You gon need a doctor when that double edge cutting
I swing mine off like (?) put ya head in a bucket
Send you to heaven like fuck it
You and god go ahead and discuss it
How I put Tone name next to Pac like it’s Poetic Justice
Like it’s Poetic Justice, Poetic Justice, Poetic Justice
I call a spade a spade so when I (?) that’s how a dog get adjusted
Fuck it, you wanna talk about the singing I’m on huh?
That’s what they all say
You want drama? Well that’s the wrong thing
I get the llama, empty the whole thing
Pootie Tang father that strap hit you from long range
I’m all rage when I’m packing a chrome
It’ll touch tone when I let it ring
That’s how you send a message after the Tone
Easy!

[Round 2: Tone Montana]

We all seen that blog, if you a singer be a singer nigga don’t be ashamed
But what was crazy is
Lotta Zay in a room right next door to my hotel right
Norbes came thru knocking on the door trying to get out the rain
I’m like what the fuck? I overhear this nigga Lotta Zay he like
“Listen Norbes please don’t judge me cuz I’m not to blame, but”
A tornado flew around my room before you…” … you faggot ass nigga!
You remember Loaded Lux vs. Young Miles, what about Un Kasa vs. T-Rex
You mean to tell me shit is the same Smack?
What about Hollow man versus E. Ness when he did that PC shit
That was ugly this is not the same smack
That was the difference between one and was local and I was global
Eight no amount of damage control can change that
But that’s why you need to keep hiring niggas like me for real nigga
I’m party arty reincarnated, I’m Rex with that chain back
I’m Mook with that durag, two tone grey and black
Sean Jean sweater on, slobbering when I’m saying raps
Fuck what you heard your knife, four per
I get durag touch with two words
I love your hoe, she mine, you hers
I’m like a scarecrow I’m designed to move birds
No shit game I won’t miss
Crack I’ll leave one of you niggas dope sick
Get back for I have a nigga on the floor stiff
Four fifth this is about as powerful as it’s going to get
They are HK both got long clips
Old heads get connected gonna get the dome split
I know they tired of the ready to put wires on the
Ready to sing like acquire on the, like I got tires on me
I’m sick like you don’t see these damn spiders on me?
I move with the moon’s like vampires on me
I went to school with the tools wasn’t pliers homie
Tell the police my name is Richard all these motherfuckin priors on me
When I said who’s next, Zay you shouldn’t have spoken out
Matter fact his new name is pina colada,
You lookin’ at me like you don’t know what file
Well imagine this what if a bullet big as a pineapple hit yo coconut?
Ain’t a nigga you know that can compare to my status
Can see Montana with some bifocal glasses
I’m an alcoholic I need some 12 step classes
When I’m drunk a nigga getting struck like matches
The cash that I stack is getting stashed in a mattress
You hustling more than you winning you hustling ass backwards
Lying bout the kush we call them hijackers
We cracked like yessur massa
A lot of niggas sell dope and still broke like fractions
I’ve been given fiends hope I’m a broke men’s pastor
Rain on your parade of flow right pastor
Shine for six months of snow in Alaska
Thru yo bitch walls aka casper
She said I fuck better, don’t believe me? Ask her
Last nigga tried me kids now bastards
Yeah we getting bucks in the home of the badges
Montana niggas

[Round 2: LottaZay]

Abbo bars, I ain’t gotta slow it down or say it again
Cuz when the shit drop on the tube they gon rewind it and play it again
So when I say I’m picking up your block well
You ain’t gotta see who it was that pop shells
It’s just in your window firing the proof like a Molotov cocktail
You want my spot well you’re not going to get it
Because you don’t got it don’t try to convincing
Cuz when I’m coming down
I’m going nuts with many cans like a flight attendant
I’m quite offended y’all thinking he hot
Well I’m a have 50 cent/sent when I SK energy shot
Listen it’s Lot, you want these human resources, I don’t offer support
You from Milwaukee close enough Wisconsin
So I’ll call it Waukee for short
So when I flashed tools you wouldn’t blast two if you had a chance to
So I’m a turn ya face pale white when I jab a Waukee like the dance crew
Speaking of Waukee, this nigga verse super writer said
I got that chopper sounding like Chubaka
Nigga, what chopper you know sound like Chubaka?
Since we talking ‘bout Chubaka, I aim it at you, baka!
Buggy eyes looking thru that thick ass lense, I’m un kasa
This dude Lotta old Samsung phone I’m bout to flip on you
Zip on you, them sauce will dip for them chips on you
What you gonna do brother when that gun smoking like Hulk Hogan
T, I’ll let it rip on you, put clip on you like here tone after it click on you
Death is what I wish on you
Cuz I’m tired of these new niggas with all they hype
Stunting like they been nice at this shit all they life
I been here spitting punchlines that’s all they like
But I admit I tried to do a Tony Montana flip, it was too hard
I even watched Scarface twice
But fuck it, we gon do this shit the hard way
Tone Montana I catch ya bitch broad day right
If I don’t miss shell will have to fight her like Scarface wife
I’m always nice so if I feel crossed, nigga
I’m a give you the work like the bodyguard after Tony killed his boss nigga
I let off nigga, buck in a chromie, hit a couple of homies
You in the ground laying bloody and lonely
I’m yelling at him, repeatedly bucking the 40
Like I told you a long time ago not to fuck with me Tony
You can’t fuck with me Tony, so act hard
When I say I’m a hit this con neck it ain’t sosa on the jack y’all
Wait, you wanna be Tony Montana with the money mansions and the fast cars
Y’all gon see a big bang go in his back yard go in his backyard, wait
He must don’t remember that part
Remember when Tony Montana pushed it to the limit
Got money, mansions and women and the fast cars
And then he copped a tiger had a big bang go thru his backyard
We gon skip to the end of the story
That’s all when u get the shotty and everything that’s inside
So question is when I let it bout can he survive?
You kidding this guy got cabin fever, he just itching to die
That nine pull a bitch inside really get in touch with his feminine side
Nigga u die so u better leave this guy alone
It’s funny how I get you higher than fire
You’ll be retired when it fires Tone
Since you look like DMX I’ll make sure that you never die alone
You ain’t speaking my language
It’s like brail you better book cuz these tips will have you red
Feel what I’m saying? No, feel what I’m saying
That chrome spit, you get ya dome split
You get reconciled to god, I just showed y’all what a tone meant
No bitch I don’t need my guys for help I’m on my job
I could this 9 to 5 if I apply myself
I leave you star scattered in the sky like a ryans belt
Then punch ya soul out ya body since you wanna get beside yourself
If I was you I wouldn’t try myself, I’m packing a chrome
It’ll touch tone when I let it ring
That’s how you send a message after the tone

[Round 3: Tone Montana]

I ain’t y’all everyday type of nigga
I might Iron Mike fight or Kimbo slice this nigga
Over some green I will swing like Tiger nigga
Fuck you mean you walk up out these beams just to frighten niggas?
Nah the safety’s irrelevant especially when we jumping out 10 deep, Mexicans
Assault rifle spin his head around, exorcist
Stupid ass bullets assaulting his intelligence
Call a therapist, call my therapist tell him that I’m hella sent
Beard like a terrorist and I don’t speak Arabic
Nah I ain’t hearing it, ya life I ain’t sparing it
One shot outta the glock will take care of it
I’m the best I don’t even gotta practice
Niggas hate that I gotta get paid like taxes
Just copped the K, couldn’t wait to clap it
Came with a beam but I ain’t even attach it
Anything you need I been had it, coke from Castro, blow from Bin Laden
Could’ve been a hitman, could’ve been an assassin
Probably should’ve been but I chose to drop albums
The fo fo only hold six, I sold it and copped the shotgun and clip
Ya car I shoot straight thru yo shit, turn that niggas Mohawk to a…
Fuck! Ya car I shoot straight thru yo shit
Turn a 2 door coupe to a four door whip
I’m sick when it comes to beef I don’t talk boy
You better be scared of a dog that don’t bark
I cock the 4 5 let 3 or 4 spark, I turn lance fro into a fucking Mohawk
Forever’s not a long time cuz life is short
Rather be in a casket than on life support
Hated being a bastard, why ain’t momma abort
But when you black it’s a few options you rap or you play a sport
Crack, fours, moes lord of the forks
Open up his magazine I ain’t talking about The Source
It’s like a hood code of ethics when I load the wessun
Rollin and smoking on some herbal purple essence
Very lyrical try and deliver verbal message
The state don’t got a case if they don’t got a murder weapon
This weed got me feeling like everybody’s watching me
Beat the brakes off this nigga bet they won’t be stopping me
Everything I do big, I ain’t got no pac in me
More Style than P , I don’t need D –Block with me
All my shit bagged up something like a colostomy
I make you stop in a sentence like an apostrophe
Quarter ave nigga

[Round 3: LottaZay]

This whole battle he talked a lot of that gangsta to me but not at all one
This a case of mistaken identity nigga, you got the wrong one
One large gun make you run away without apparent support, all fun
I got the tool so if they thinking you cool I give you awesome
I can’t at all front, you got stage present but you lack skill nigga
But I got what I like to call massa, cuz whip appeal niggas
But oh, you getting paid from this battle shit see
That’s how I know you ain’t a real nigga
Cuz you talk about yo clothes and yo ice on
But his mother struggle to keep the lights on
Damn, help ya mom pay a bill nigga, but on the real nigga
This guy so ill, I’m desperado you think this singing nigga got a guitar bro?
That’s how you honestly feel?
Well at his team, I’m poppin the steel and tony yo
If ya band near us
Ya get another shot from the case like you got an appeal
I am for real this nigga ain’t gangbanging at all G
This faggot be gangbanging in orgy’s
You cross me I will put a salt on a square like a saltine
I ain’t playing no more G’s, ain’t giving a warning
I got the sweeper and I’ll bang it at ya ceiling like the neighbors is noisy
I knew he would talk about the singing of course
He’s not creative enough to go the other way
Me and Young Cannon had a conversation about this in Washington state
What the fuck I say?
How I knew he was gonna talk about that R&B shit like everybody else?
Bringing up old shit
But since we on the subject let me get on my cold shit
I got them R&B arms with me, be obliged no Mary J
How I shock a con (Chaka Khan) and put this new edition in ya baby face
To be FRANK that OCEAN is where you’ll drown in sync (N*Sync)
Dozens of shells I’ll give you 112
Cuz that gin you on (Ginuwine) TREY is in mint condition
That gun sit you down like an Usher, that’s changing places
Remove ya grill with the jagged edge that’s changing faces
When that tool drew he’ll let his sis go with the knife
I’m Mya tonight go to the waste like I’m Justin Beiber’s
Just to get back at one like I’m Bryan McKnight
I remove yo soul for real keep talking out ya teeth
I got keys I could lease but I bury white when I’m clocking off the street
I put you in the earth when in fire sparking out the heat
It’ll leave tony tone tone like Raphael Saddiq
See I got the best rhymes smoking, I don’t wanna hear T boz
Tell him chill he’ll (Chilli) get the magnum in his frame
While I’m shooting with the left eye open
Yes I’m scoping so when I get that chrome clacking I’m love and war
Only way you see tomar is if you tone Braxton
You get that chrome action if he dealing the purp
Than you gon die overweight like Gerald Lavert
Guns r kell he roll in serve him up, give em up
Give em the damn order cuz I’m on it like Brandy, gone off that brandy
A nigga when I’m whipping I’m giving em manslaughter
Now that that been dealt with and brought up
I can tell that you just jealous of who I are and b
And how these lines get sped up here
Cuz no matter how much you think niggas is too tough to listen to r and b
They just reacted to every line that I said up here
So if you hide moo, I’ll find you masked up like I got the swine flu
It ain’t debit or credit card when I slide thru
Squeezing out the window like a fat person working at the drive thru
This how I do, I blaze wigs nigga!
It’s March 9th the wrong day to play big nigga
So now that I zip locked sealed you
Maybe we can make somebody in hip-hop feel you
Cuz like biggie said you ain’t nobody until somebody kills you

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