Cortez vs. T-Rex [Lyrics] (Total Slaughter)


You ain’t even hard Cor
You don’t even go in the category of hardcore
I can have niggas puttin’ hands and feet on Cor
Once we start rappin’ and we clappin’, I got encore
That’s what happens when you put Attica against Job Core
Quit rappin’, get you a job Cor
I can get you a weak left or a strong right
In this battle shit it’s only the weak left, I done killed the strong right
I’m Tango, I won best in the show at every dog fight
My niggas run up and beer/bear cans cause Coors/Cor’s Light
You ain’t gonna kill nothing to let nothin’ die
I ask niggas in my hood do they have respect for you, nah
Cuz you work at the airport don’t mean you’ll let nothin’ ‘fly
I mean you might as well change your last name to Lopez
Cuz when they find him it’s at least a (Lisa) bullet that was left in his eye However you want it the black or the chrome gat
I’m on his block, like “where Cortez?”
They said “That Ern cat?” I’m like “yeah”
All that gangsta shit he talking gon get Ern clapped
No coffin, they put Ern in a urn that nigga earned that
Let him run I got a scope and a red dot
Let him think he really got away then let that lead pop
Now should I kill again and show him a aim and give him a headshot?
I’m aimin’ for his calves, I figure four will make his legs lock
This nigga beat me? Not at all!
You can take this chain but you gon’ die while you got it on
That mac will have him playin’ in the sky like Monsterball
Or I kill his whole entire team, you better armour all
Baby shotgun I got it sawed off
Gage hit his shoulder blade his arm will look sawed off
And it came with a knife in the front, I took the saw off
His head was laying right in the street, you saw it off!
My niggas ‘bout that action, fuck that small talk
My killas move around without a leash like a dog park
Most of these niggas is suckas, I get them hauled off
Find them laying in the junkyard like a car part


Grown man bra’s is something you gotta deal with
Cuz no matter how big these man boobs get Rex
They ain’t gon equal up to no real tits
Nigga, come on now you know me
Finally I got you and I’m packing shit that’s silver nigga
But I’m snappin’ off the block kickin’ shit, like silver nigga
Hold on, you the type to rap for the bread to eat
Well that’s why you better roll T
But just know there’s 40 hours, so don’t owe T (OT)
Honestly bar for bar I’m killin’ this shit, that’s how I feel T
I just open doors and let y’all live, that’s real T (Realty)
Come on all this preacher stuff gon’ lead to preacher blood
Yo Math, hide his remains and the blood in the tub, I go bleach the tub
Matter fact, you come thru all this preachin’ stuff
Gon’ mean you a stand up nigga
And since you snitchin’ you gon’ need the crutch
Matter fact, my soldiers roam/Rome in
I get ya Caesar cut, I squeeze and buck
On this virgin pussy, you ain’t deep enough
Matter fact like I said, fuck the preacher stuff and this preacher blood
I staffed his remains, come thru squeeze the blood
Matter fact hold on

Damn I fucked that up all the way I can’t believe that shit
I ain’t gon choke though, fuck that I need that shit
Honestly you look like your dad Rex and it’s sad you mock him
Call your Wins-low, get it? I seen his daddy coppin’

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