Big T vs. O Red [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Big T]
Last time I was here they booed me
I ain’t quite know how to do with that
So now it’s 2 options, it’s either you relax
You can clap or you get clapped!
A nigga boo me I’m stopping midway thru the rap like
*Cocks gun* WHO WAS THAT?!
Cuz if a nigga could boo my rounds
I brought a couple rounds that could boo him back
Boo! Boo! Boo! Listen Red…
I heard he wanted to shoot a fair one in Jersey
I said, “Fuck that, I want a neutral place to rock”
Nigga, I know Joe Lite and my nigga Fox
Them a couple of New York niggas from the block
So bring O in the middle of the BX
Oh, y’all think I’m talking bout the Bronx
I said bring O in the middle of the BX, I was talking bout a BOX!
This nigga Red talkin bout let’s box? Put a finger on me a bitch dying
Pinky ring finger will be somewhere where they gotta get divers
Middle/index will be somewhere where they lit fire
And they gon find his thumbs up on the side of the road like a hitchhiker
See this guy must be high, probably
Ya must be smokin’ that Bob Marley or sniffing that Chris Farley
You ever think of fuckin’ with mine, Charlie
I be at his crib behind his furniture with more barrels than a wine party
Soon as he turn on the lights
We poppin’ up at his crib like a surprise party
You know why you can’t swim with T, Red? Cuz you can’t tread like that
T, READ, you also spell “TREAD” like that
You don’t get no street cred cuz the streets don’t see (C) Red like that
C, RED, see, you also spell CRED like that
Ain’t no bitches IG’n O Red, but he used to getting ignored like that
I-G-N-O-RED, you also get IGNORED like that
We know how ya setups be O Red, but we tired of gettin’ bored like that
To B(e) O Red, you also get BORED like that
I got a hella lot of ‘phors like that, cuz I can’t think of shit
Lyrically I think he sick, personality wise I think it’s shit
I’m gon get back to these bars just give me a second to speak a bit
See Red, shouldn’t you be bad every time you battle a top nigga
They don’t bring they shit because if you lose or beat O Red
It’s not meaning shit, it’s meaningless, I’m mean as shit
Personality weak as shit
But come up with the same damn flow every time you see his shit
It’s a whole bunch of *rambles*
Take a scheme you flip, repeat ya shit
And just say what he would’ve did if he’s me and shit
See Smack must be trying to challenge me
Cuz you know he got the upper advantage if he battle me
Cuz how do I come up with personals against a nigga with no personality?
Since you like to pick out what niggas be like, Instagram
This nigga dead, ripped to shreds, I’m strippin’ every inch of dread
This pistol lead sharp and on point, it’s like a pencil lead
It’s easy to beam on a nigga, I always had it in for red (Infared)
Mr. Red, boy I shouldn’t even be in the mist of Red?
I heard that horse playing gave him a mouth like Mr. Red
And can’t miss the red, beam like a spotlight, I won’t miss the Red
Blood splatter everywhere, it’ll only be a mister Red
Are you going against me Red? This the (?) versus Cotto
Mayweather versus Cotto, Joe Fraizer vers’ Jojo…… Simmons
9 out the pocket, Ton’ Romo
Push this clown red wig to the side, no Bozo
O Red, you know what’s in common with a target? The O Red
Give ‘em a clip, slip, gave him another one, I owed/O’d Red
Surf and Suge over the body like, “No O Red!”
My bullets speakin in different languages like the old Red
Mr. Chalakaboo back but he boo boo blaka and shit
Mr. Boo Baka and shit, lou wop, pop in the clip
Chopper equipped, “Frah! Frah! Frah! Frahka!” his shit
Rocket launchers and shit, baka his shit
*Reload sound* “Bop! Bop! Bop! Baka!” his shit
Pop in the clip on the Eagle so long it look like an Ostrich and shit
One pop/pap smear this pussy, I gynecolog ya shit!
QUIET!

[Round 1: O Red]

URL I’m back! Sorry T, I gotta get rid of you nigga
Smack paid me extra to finish you nigga
Before I start tho, I brought a gift for you nigga
Just like the other fat boy in Chicago..I’ma sit that on my side
Cuz it still got the wrapper and I don’t want you to eat thru it nigga
Now Stage 48
Y’all know the drill, y’all can react while I’m cookin’ that pussy
I’ma keep count on how many times he look at that cookie!
I think I should warn y’all, just know it’s bout to be a long night
Cuz I just set that down, he already looked twice
But fuck that, y’all came here to hear some bars right?
Well I’ma pill popper, tonight I go Alien off that E, T
You the cheapest drink in McDonalds, that mean you sweat tea/T
I know ya baby moms so watch the rhymes you speak, T
Or get ya BM X’d trying to stunt on a G-T
I get it poppin’ from Jersey to Washington, I’m a Beast, T
My heavy metal rockin’ from AC to DC
No tacky nigga from Wayans Brothers when I make TC (T see)
A pump will push his chin… you looked again, that’s 3, T
Smack got me doing these Chi-Town niggas bad
First Young Kannon, no games I had to clap him fast
Big Kannon, WOOOO….If y’all saw the way I whipped his ass
Y’all gon love T, KO, no Teddy Pendergrass
Now we both said Classic or Body, he can’t smoke me
We sound the same but we different, O, Beast, you just Obese, I mean
That Rich Dolar will give you a lyrical slaughter
You ain’t built for 4 quarters, how the fuck can you handle O, T?
This rhyming shit, I got it bitch, ask the rappers I’m riding with
I make ‘em buckle down, hit a couple rounds, they trying to spit
If I don’t rock with it, no questions asked, they droppin’ it
I prepared my team for the ring I’m Greg Papavich
Now speaking of Greg Papavich, watch this shit
My steel bang from Gary Neal range
Approach me, extendo in the 9, my Tony give him Ginobli
That hammer spring while the handle tied with the bandana thing
So the Heat, can’t stop that shootin’ I call it Danny Green
I get T, Macs for nothing, I’m gutter
Then I post on the block like Tim Duncan for his mother
I’m strapped with a chopper, that long arm, Kawhi Leonard
Spot the bitch who birthed T, I’ll go split her (Tiago Splitter)
Now I know that wasn’t crazy, but them last bars
Spur of the moment, back to the topic
That’s yo 4th time lookin’ my nigga, I’m still watchin’
This truce, my youngest Shotta got a Russian Chopper, the 100 Rocka
That cat will leave ya (Catalina) on the scene like Colombiana
So watch ya mouth cuz my shooters ready to ride
It’s crazy Terrance how words get a actor shot for pride, you get it?
Terrance Howard –Actor Shot- For Pride
Charles Lee Ray bullets, I’ll leave ‘em stuck in a good guy
Got hood ties in ya hood 5, ride where yo corner at?
Chopper name Dirk, it’s a German shooter
That forward strap, pick a nigga off like a corner pack
You’ll get quartered back, fat nigga, nigga with braids
I’m buckin’ there, no Warren Sapp (Buccaneer)
This shit a horror flick in a round, you hear that Grudge sound?
Dressed in all black with a hammer, I’m a Judge now
Mortal Kombat, I send fly caps like Kung Loa
Ice T when I hit his lemon, that’s an uptown
I’m Megatron, I ride up on any stage with a weapon tied
This ain’t NOME III so tonight you ain’t getting Shine
You thought you could deck Da Don
He tossed you with hella bombs
Which reminds me, you looked at that Cookie…7 times!
JERSEY!

[Round 2: Big T]

I caught Red in his jeep creepin’
I take the (?) *bing, bing* it, it goes in it
Fuck it, “rah! Rah!” he get the automatic too, that’s goaltending
Nigga this crime scene gon look like a fire department
When you go near it cuz what I fire, man from these poles
Will have Red truck with big holes in it
Come on with it, I heard these niggas was askin’ for me
I don’t gotta do shit, I just sit back and let it happen for me
I’m like a injured football player on the field after being tackled ugly
Cuz soon as I get a OK, everybody get to/the clappin’ for me
The way I came up dumpin the Nina is like stayin over ya friends house
But it’s nothing to get a clean mouth
I got ‘em all cleaned out with one brush of a finger
See this hoes be actin’ up, but these hoes will clap ‘em up
Good skull be fractured up, have ‘em patchin up his lower back and up
I know it didn’t sound funny, I didn’t expect for y’all to be laughing up
But the way I made they bull shatter up
They should be over there crackin’ up
Yeah, ask for us my niggas on it, I hit ya set trip and set trips up on it
Like price line, he come thru bong bong, we get to rippin’ on it
How you niggas sellin’ drugs and tippin’ on it
And I ain’t ever seen no pistol on it?
It’s like a wet caution sign
On the design you always see somebody slippin’ on it
My niggas on it, I don’t care who you is or who you with
Or who you get into it with, we’ll shoot ya shit
Put ya head in the toaster, bing! Strudel it
Noodle it, over it, youtube it, poison the tube youtube with
Voodoo it so you don’t get immune to it
Take it, doo doo it, get ya boo boo hit
She gaga goo’n like, “papa, who is this?”
Til we hear a “pa-pa-pa-pa-pa-pa!” til it click
Police remove the doors all the way thru the tents
They even search engine lookin’ for answers like, Google it
A search engine lookin for answers, Google it?
I didn’t expect y’all to “ooo!” to it, that one you gotta YouTube it
But didn’t you quit being a Blood? That gangsta shit not in you
Boy you scotch tissue
How you ban/band a nigga that pop metal and rock with you?
The day you buried ya flag, that’s when a soldier died in you
But when you a real soldier, they suppose to bury that flag with you
Didn’t you be a stick up man before Surf? The dreads?
I heard a nigga tried to play him like Uno, they be the first one dead
But this nigga tried to skip with my green like I didn’t deserve the bread
I’m a wild card, he draw fours, I’ll draw too/two
Blue/blew, made it reverse on Red
Think I’ma get robbed De Niro, boy you act like Rob De Niro?
My clique, I could see no (Casino) one get robbed in there row
Where Jersey at? That’s gon get Black robbed in there O
Line em up, I get everybody robbed in there row
Yeah, O Red, Quiet…

[Round 2: O Red]

Wassup Big Perm, I mean Big Worm, I mean Big T
I heard you wanna battle me
That’s blasphemy ya majesty bout to make you a casualty
Why would you even ask for me? I’m versatile when rockin’
You that back wall in hot topic, you just graphic T
I mean let’s analyze ya rappin T
You told Surf, if he try to lock pick your door and stick his face in
You’ll put the attic in the basement with the Terminator 1 role
Knock the baby out the play pen, correct? Ok, question
If you’re at the crib, why put the attic in the basement? Who crib is that?
Then shoot a baby out the play pen? Who kid is that?
I know, I know, let me guess, that’s his style, he started it
Nigga that rhyme wasn’t smart as shit, that’s just some retarded shit
But real shit, that type of shit is why I’m living
He just talk it, he don’t live it, I’m talkin and subconsciously walkin’
Draggin’ my pivot, he better watch the way he spit it
Fot you tellin’ T, R.I.P, my P-I-N-G’s (End G’s) for tripping
There rappers never learn they lesson, till I pop the heater
Steel peel like Real Deal, that Dot’ll teach ya a lesson
Steel peel like Real Deal, that Dot a teacher
You 16 deep, only 3 surviving, I aim straight that thang bake
My 9 ate (8) 13, what’s today’s date? 9-8-13 right?
Also I go Miller with the Mac, leave losts souls
I bring Thriller where you at, those yo bars right? I know, I ain’t a biter
That’s just my way of sayin’
I get to clappin’ when him and his niggas rappin
Make it rain in that cypher
Go ‘head T, try ridin’ on me, you get the Christopher Wallace story
Wit a Big Pop, I leave BIG shot, Robert Horry
I palm the 40, this pussy think he could body me
Shotty Horroh voice on the Tsu, I’ll leave you silent, T
I could kill you and get acquitted, my lawyer love the money
2 straps, this Paralegal (Pair Illegal) like a Lawyer understudy
I’m a real street rapper, you a motherfuckin’ fraud
A nigga who studied Law, you just do it for the buzz
But ya last battle, huh?
A lot of people say you 3-0’d Shine, y’all agree?
Well me personally, I say he won 2-1, don’t take it personal
But 2nd round I deducted points cuz of that shirt from you
They say stripes make fat look slim, that don’t work for you
That shirt looked like it was 50% reversible
Honest fact, you was rhymin’ crack, but ya body fat so wrong
T you look like a mud puddle with clothes on
You dirty, you stink, and ya stomach hang from thigh to thigh
A nigga on a boat with a tiger, you live the “Life Of PI” (PIE)
And in that same round you proved that you a hoe ass nigga
You flipped my Roscoe shit, you don’t own that nigga!
You stole that nigga! I should Blade 2 you “HOLD THAT NIGGA!”
Leave ya grill split from biting like you nomad nigga
A lot of people hate when this nigga spit rounds
Cuz he never straight to the point, Jeremy Lin style
Every time he rock it (Rocket) be hella long, you spit Yao
He couldn’t kill a verse on Smack if you was Jin clown
Lin, Yao, Jin, it’s a message in my ink
This round is about ya lazy raps
How you fat and you stink? That ya Lin, Yao, and Jin
Little nigga think, ya body amours the link
I’m just showing you the chinks
Don’t you get it? Fate wanted you to get yo ass cracked
You missed out on that Mickey match to hear this real rap
It’s obvious, nigga you don’t see the paradox in that?
You manage to dodge Factz and run into some facts, FACT!
You tried to clown Charlie saying all his battles was at home
Never out his comfort zone, well all ya battles on URL
So you kinda condoning that shit, you lab ass nigga
Local ass bitch, you a debatable rapper
You could never beat me, I’m a boss, I body niggas freely
You can be that next Friday lookin’ NYB Rican
And still can’t C-O-R-T (See O-R) EASY!
JERSEY!

[Round 3: Big T]

See y’all don’t know how long I been waiting for this
You lucky Calicoe freestyled his 3rd round and ain’t do this
So long story short everybody, I’ma get straight to this
Let me tell y’all my version of what happened with O Red in St. Louis
O Red battled a nigga named J Huggins for 40 dollars
We was in the condo, Me, Calicoe, Hollow, and my homie Holla
You know Con know, we seen O Red he got a couple ratchet hoes to holla
Got ‘em into convo, you know, we had us a couple bottles
You know how hoes do it
You know they get to sippin’ some of that strong fluid
You bag a bitch, another nigga fuck her
Come on my niggas we all go thru it
But it seemed like my nigga Red was really going thru it
Calicoe getting head, he damn near jumped in the bed like,
“BITCH! DON’T DO IT!”
Calicoe like, “man, c’mon man, close the door stupid”
Nigga she mad, she crying cuz she caught doing shit the hoes doing
Meanwhile my nigga Red texting this bitch like, “girl you so stupid
See if you was just for me you wouldn’t even have to go thru this”
We like, “O Red! O Red! You don’t even know this bitch!”
Calicoe getting pussy, you getting pussy too, trying to console his bitch
We trying to Jane Doe this bitch, fuck her, run a train on this bitch
She suckin’ my man dick, you outside trying to kiss on this bitch
Instead of you just getting the ass out an leave
You be having these hoes thinking they royalty
You owe all these real niggas an apology
If you ain’t gonna be real with these bitches, then I’ma be
You got these old hoes talking like they queens, Mama Dee
See, since you wifing these bitches
I’ma be right there when the wedding planned
Trip the ring girl, so she choke and die off the wedding band
You seen Godfather 1? I come with the tech in the reception spraying
Giving a couple to the toast at the wedding like the best man
People dodging and shit, swinging off of the bases
Bullets ricocheting off of vases
Man I don’t know what happened, but I was squeezing up at they faces
And it took a plug out they head like they was leaving out of the Matrix
Why you wifing these sluts? She vice gripping a nigga
She’s on a nigga nuts, sucking and fuckin until a nigga nut
You asked us if I did fuck, nigga who didn’t fuck?
I just shot my shot and hit it the first time, beginners luck
They want me to style on em, you see T off a fif and a (?)
Offer from Pedro to get a payroll off of some Yayo
(?) hoe then bend they hoe, with the kimbe the A hole
Like aye hoe, aye hoe, they gotta go, hastalawego
Yeah I pay so, what’s the pesos? Stay in ya place O
Get beat like Dre, no, I drain O clean like Drano
I’m crazy fast, Hussein Bolt, you sane bolt
Whip his chain bow like Django up in the Durango
You try to play O, that’s gon get jacked off you jack off
(?) I would spit in ya mug, I do backwash
You write a check ya ass can’t cash, I got the exact cost
This beam will get Red tagged, it’s taking half off
That mac baboom Red monkey ass
Baboon, Red, Monkey Ass, see I don’t know
If you don’t know what they lookin’ for it’s body or it’s lower past
Cuz they gon be up all night lookin for his other half
Yeah, you talk about my Hollow loss, Red, like it’s the Holocaust, Red
But ya Swave Sevah loss, Red
You damn near got ya head severed off, Red
See you wasn’t that crispy candy color gloss Red
The style was more of a Burgundy cuz it looked a little off, Red
I heard you was a booster for them roosters, who Red Robbin/Robin?
I’ll have my man pop him
The phone call gon sound like
I send my bitches to go to with one of my man’s shoppin’
Should I say get ‘em heel toe stiletto, red bottoms?
SLOW IT DOWN! Nah he from Jersey
“FUCK, I GOTTA PUT IT IN SUBTITLES OR SOMETHIN?”
I said, get him, he’ll pump steel at O Red bottom….
Translation: HE’LL SHOOT HIS ASS!!!!
You moving past a sleeping giant
Don’t come to my crib, boy I keep an iron
Muzzle the gun just in case things get violent, that keep it silent
Guns on the “bloaw” sound more like … so let’s speak in private
A silencer on the pistol, come get some peace/piece and quiet
QUIET!

[Round 3: O Red]

Time out! Cut these cameras smack, T, are you that fat or you cookin?
That’s from 1st round its 3rd now why you still lookin?
Nigga you gone make me throw this shit, stop losing ya focus bitch
I want yo soul to lift, but not via no chokin shit
I’m tryna show ya clique, you ain’t a Jordan 11 cat
That mean you will never walk on Red soul (sole) you ain’t bred for that
A lot of y’all thought it a be close, well I’m deadin’ that
After this round over that soldier gone need a medic pack
Fact, this whole bout, I proved to y’all we ain’t cut the same
I showed y’all I got AP aggression and can rush a lane
Or draw him out with Mayweather poise and show my punching game
You fraud, T in the ring acting, he club Elaine
That BULL-SHIT get him 22, Taj Gibson
How that 9 rip him, painting precision with time vision
Head shot, that eye witness go “DAMN!” Rod Simmons
Walk up and let it ring back to back, Lebron mission
T, just use that safety net when you die…you feel me?
Just pull a X, lie, say you ain’t try, they’ll let it fly
See I, I don’t got respect for any rapper who doin that
Or any fan who say they true to rap but they cool with that
Smack, you gone feel what I’m saying about the set trip
Cause I’m tired of niggas cheatin on battle rap for the next bitch
Stand on stage without ya best shit, that ain’t vet shit
How the fuck can you love that game if you don’t respect it?
Now me on the other hand, I treat every battle like it’s the last of my life
Tomorrow ain’t promised, a nigga probably clap me tonight
So just in case they snatch up my life, this faggot get wiped
Dragged T before he die I got the Passion of Christ
So the bitch in him, yall bound to here hurr like a Nelly verse
I could throw a clip in his donut and watch the Jelly squirt
But fuck letting the Dessie burst, you’ll get the machete work
Chest where the slit b, turn Big T to a belly shirt
I’ll have his homies yellin’ out “Red, just hit him with the glock,
The cap’ll take him,” Fuck that, I’m decapitating his top
So when them southside cops find his head in a box
They don’t know whether it’s T, RG3 or Yung Chop, let me stop
Should I stop? Nope! You asked for it Ock, you deserve the damage
Calicoe ya right hand and I’ll hit his ass with a cannon
So I ain’t understandin’ why this man is still chancin’
When you saw Cal L (Kalel) first like Superman parents
Man of Steel – Kalel- Superman- I’m cold dawg
Which reminds me, you said I was Crip tonight (Kryptonite)
You wrong dawg
That type of talk will just make me walk through yo zone dog
Bunny slippers strapped wit a tech sense you think I’m LOC, DOG.
Y’all wanna know how we got to this point?
Smack said I’m settin’ classics up, I need you versus Magic, bruh
I said when Magic beat Conceited, then I’ll fuck Magic up
I know you got ya racks and stuff, but the status ain’t addin up
Do simple Math, put T in the equation that’s a plus
Speakin of Math, yo Hoffa I’m bout drama
You lack Math, head shot, I’ll add a bullet, subtract yo life Math
Tryin to take a shot at the king, that ain’t bright Math
The nigga I bodied you lost to, twice Math
Yo DNA, listen you dirty bitch
I’ma tell you like I told Shine, “stop talkin like you want that sauce
I don’t battle guard dogs get loss, I’ll kill yo boss”
Ask him, I’m the wrong Rasta to rumble with
You got all of yo flare from that Teddy Bear you cuddle with
Jackin’ his every move, it’s obvious you suckin dick
I can see D (CD) on C-D like a double disc
And all you other haters takin’ shots at the boy, ya’ll only get half a bar Fuck you Norbes….. Jersey.

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