Tay Roc vs. Calicoe [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
You faggot fiend, I’ll give you half of the magazine
Do you dirty, speaking of dirty I do you bad as Qleen
Think when Ricky got shot or Bishop got dropped
This about to be a tragic scene
I couldn’t wait for this match, just for you, I brought the gasoline
You think you’re the king? Well that nigga had a dream
‘Til he met a nigga like me that had a scheme
And a rusty revolver that didn’t have a gleam
Like a carpenter, bang on his roof
With the hammer out the Craftsman’s jeans
That was mean, but I’m know to take it past extreme
Find your trap house and attack your team like the tactic team
Facts, machines to his chest if he have me steamed
Bullet in his head while he’s asleep, nigga I shatter dreams
Peep, gun bars for my first impression
Strapped with a DE, SK—you’re tryna learn a lesson?
You ever heard of Heaven?
Man, I’ll hit Calicoe with a Calico
Then bury Calicoe with the murder weapon
When you heard you was battlin’ Roc, you was nervous, sweatin’
Got to talkin’ shit on Twitter, I’m like, “Who this herb addressin’?”
I’ll come to Detroit, pull straight up to that curb he reppin’
This’ll drop 30, I call the shit that I carry Stephen
If you want the drama, I might intervene
I’ll make a buck 50 look like a slight guillotine
Nigga, I x men, I work with minds like I’m Jean
You’ll see AR’s talkin’ like Lightning McQueen
I thought of this breakfast scheme while makin’ grits
Why fool around? After the biscuit crack ya egg, your bae can strip
The toast French, I’ma let it erase his shit
Hole in him like a bagel, I’ll send some men, they’re raisin’ shit
Then I smoked a blunt, I got the munchies, then I came with this
I‘ll put a potato on the barrel if you don’t give Tay the chips
For the cheese, stakes is high, I’ma make it lit
Grill me if you want, the blade will fish fillet your shit
Y’all niggas is turkey and chicken for duckin’
But turkey, chicken, duck—put it together, that is turducken
Nigga, I ain’t gonna talk about your case, I don’t fight with words
Eagle and hawk with me
You ain’t the only one that fight with birds
This dickhead got a lot of mouth: fellatio
‘Til I start handin’ out bucks like the Wayne Brady Show
Terraneo, try to play me though
You gon’ get it like Raheem in Juice… naw, Raheem with the radio
Let him know I send niggas to where it gets lonely
You seen what I did to Dollaz
I put that young thug in the sky, you can be Rich homie
I’ll leave this nigga from Detroit lyin’ when I let a flock go
I came from Baltimore with the fifth on me
Cal, you ain’t tryna do that, I’ll body you cats
Chill, this kickback ain’t tryna relax
Like shoppin’ at the LIDS store store, I’ll hit his top with a cap
When I let somethin’ new air on the side of your hat
God I am back, and I ain’t playin’ with him
Y’all gon’ make me hit him
Take his work from him and say it’s mine: that’s plagiarism
The gauge will hit him, I done JC, Ill Will, Qleen Pa—
You will get the most: I’m showin’ favoritism
You better have everybody prayin’ for him and prayin’ with him
Fuck a battle, you shoulda trained for a freight collision
I don’t care if his lady with him, I aim to get him
The scope got supervision, I’ll catch his baby sittin’
You said Surf had the infrared beam and he ran up on me?
I put that nigga Surf in the trunk
You’re ‘bout to give him some company
No strings attached: that’s puppetry
Smack fuck with me, ‘cause I son these niggas
I sign them over to custody—that’s light!

[Round 1: Calicoe]
Free my nigga G, free my nigga Cheeks
I hate when niggas ask me for a rematch
We shouldn’t have to do no recaps
Ayo, Smack, look where we at!
They tried to throw me Roc like I ain’t see that
I’m ‘bout to catch him off the glass like I’m T-Mac
They got me back on Summer Madness again
This shit is startin’ to feel like Summer Madness again
Smack told me I got to get back in my old bag for the win
I said the one we gon’ be draggin’ him in?
I ain’t sayin’ don’t disrespect, my niggas
Go ahead and handle your career
But these niggas the wrong niggas
And they may handle it from here
My advice, take everything and handle it with care
Jumanji: one wrong roll and them animals appear
Pick one! Test ‘em Roc! Any of them brawl
You’re a fool if you think Roc wilder than any of my dogs
I’ve seen your last shit, Tsu damn near made you lay down
I wasn’t on N.O.M.E, I was movin’ puppy chow on a Greyhound
With a chrome Bulldog, used it so much that bitch gray now
Back in the day I would cock a Spaniel
But Cortez is bein’ away now
I got a young pup that want to prove somethin’
I told him, “Make me a believer!”
He said he wanted to kidnap that blue-haired bitch
I told him, “Go there, retrieve her!”
That wasn’t light, we go heavy with the bars
I was just all over the dog shit: Craig daddy in the yard
They asked if dog got dogs, I said “Naw, dog got dog.”
He be puttin’ dog on dogs back when dogs was dog
It was a misunderstandin’
See, Roc trippin’, and I don’t understand it
‘Cause Roc be pitchin’, but Roc be missin’ because he underhanded
They say New York shit, I feel like we on another planet
This Easy Money, I remember my box bein’ stuck in transit
But you ain’t a hustla, you couldn’t even catch what I can send you
We’re eatin’ good, just think of Smack stretchin’ out this venue
Ayy, 75 out, my legs lockin’ into this ring
See you don’t listen to my music
‘Cause you ain’t been through what I been through, nigga
From the look of things, you ain’t into what I’m into, nigga
You joined the Dots, they’re all shrimps, you’re a shrimp too nigga!
Really, what make you different? Because you say you isn’t?
Don’t nobody want to hear the truth ’til you make them listen
We ride through Baltimore, salute to Wire, but let’s pay a visit
Salute to URL because he dyin’ over they decisions
Salute to Charlie Clips for killin’ him twice
That’s a hell of a precision
But I only need one shot, call the Dots and tell ‘em he missin’
Call them niggas, tell ‘em we lurkin’
Tough on the net but we can see they’re scared of us in person
We’re ‘bout to build the label up and have all of y’all workin’
Mook coulda did this shit but he was for the wrong purpose
Cave Dots, since you joined them you’re in the same spot
Look how they slaved Roc, he reppin’ like they paid Roc
He shoulda saved Roc, now I got them cryin’ at his grave
Bat! Bat! I’m Bruce Wayne: they’re flyin’ through the Cave
Why niggas act like they can’t be dyin’ here today?
‘Cause all you niggas can
Circle the block, I’m tryna hit that one nigga that ran
This Smack fault, he be chargin’ the fuck out of this man
Now he done fucked up like loggin’ a nigga out of his ‘Gram
Trust me, this is ‘cause Smack kept callin’, this was not in my plan
I swear this was not in my plans, man, these niggas is hams
Most these niggas be fans, and I be readin’ these niggas
They always talk about the streets
But who believe in these niggas?
When I look at them there’s somethin’ I don’t see in these niggas
On my momma, I don’t think it’s this much G in these niggas
Especially for this simple fact
They roll with clowns like this fat-ass nigga
Up the pound, come here and be my new hashtag, nigga
I had them killers wrap them towels around their head
From the crowd someone had said
Cal look like he had a bunch of niggas from Baghdad with him
See you just talk them gun bars
You rap about how your shotty spit
I talk that Fat Cat, Big Meech and Maserati Rick
That Southwest T, T Stuckey and that crimey shit
They call me Calicoe, but it ain’t the first gun that I caught a body with… Landslide, nigga!

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
I forgot to welcome you back, Cal
Oh, that’s ‘cause you’re not important
And it’s like they’re heavy metal fans
I got ’em waitin’ on every Roc performance
That bar you think you gonna violate me? I will rock you on it
I ain’t Pat Stay, nigga you will get shot for doin’ it
You’ll see the difference between him and him
Cal think he’s tough ‘cause he bullied a white boy
That eat steroids like they’re M&M’s
You know about antonyms and synonyms?
Well, if I catch your aunt and ‘em, guess where I’m sendin’ ‘em!
I got a shooter named Frank, lend him a Benjamin
For ten on them, he’ll have that Uz’ spittin’ like a gremlin
Act feminine, I’ll leave you curlin’, iron will have your wig blown out like you went to see the Dominicans
I’m sick of him, screamin’ “BMF!” like he got rich with them
Who told him he was G? His uncle Trick trickin’ him
I was there for you vers’ Arsonal in Michigan
And if I was Ars, I’d never ever come out that bitch again
I was standin’ behind Ars, thinkin’, “What type of shit you in?”
Ars was like, “Watch them niggas, cuz” tremblin’ in his Timberlands
He said “Suge had that shotgun” but didn’t remember him
I’ma save the rest of that story for when I get to him
Back to you, I told Brizz about this style of mine
Smack won’t let me host no battles, I got a violent mind
Y’all thought this was gon’ be crazy, I know this pal of mine
That’ll kill him, picture Toranio vers’ this Cal of mine
How can I lose to a nigga this instance?
You’re weak, fresh out of bars, like you just finished a sentence
Now, I ain’t gonna say you was skinny dippin’ with niggas
But in that picture you was skinny dippin’ with invisible bitches
I actually am a savage, get to clappin’ him in his cabbage
Show up to the funeral, get to smackin’ him in his casket
You waited this long to battle me? You’re a faggot
You’ll get a clip of the Desert: that’s National Geographics
Tell him this, if I don’t like the words off his breath a bit
He’ll get a fresh round in his mouth: that’s a peppermint
Chopper sounds like a helicopter, I start propellin’ shit
Double barrel look like I snatched the trunk off an elephant
I’m what you call it when you hit on that lottery ticket: bred to win
Somebody tell him this land mine, watch what you’re steppin’ in
I can bring God and the Devil, Hell and the Heaven in
Seventeen in the clip
That’s the Ten Commandments and the Seven Sins
You dug you a ditch, I dare you bug in this bitch
I got shells like a snail, I’ll dump a slug in his shit
I put Cal on life support, while he plugged to the shit
I’m like, “Give me the plug this frontin’ you shit
Or I’m unpluggin’ this shit.”
Who rugged as this? If I want your bread I’ma use the toaster
I can’t use a holster, this shit the size of a Super Soaker
You a douja, you ain’t got no game boy
You want your bitch back, but your ex box got a new controller
My goon will smoke ya and send you to see your maker
You’ll there find your thoughts on a piece of paper
Blaow! For thinkin’ I’m Math, Cal, see you later
Facts, if you can’t calculate that, then you know naythin’
We got goons in every state in the whole nation
Fuck with me, I have niggas after the show waitin’
No fakin’—once Cal see ‘em, bones breakin’
I tried to tell him he don’t want none with me
Battle rappin’ ain’t a job to me, that shit is fun to me
Fuck a scheme, angle, punch, it’s ‘bout a gun to me
A gun is the only thing that get the job done for me

[Round 2: Calicoe]
Every time he say a gun bar, I visualize a cap gun
My first round was so cold y’all forgettin’ I only rapped once
This battle shit is gettin’ absurd now, I observed how
You let a nigga with no third rounds kill you with his third round
Yeah I see the irony in this
I gotta kill the nigga with all of the guns ‘fore I get to firin’ at Clips
See, the Dots, they got me pissed, I never respect these bitches
These mags gon’ make 4 of y’all fall when I connect these bitches
But look at you, you still think it’s a game ’til that chopper out
I already dealt with Brixx, now I’m tryna see what Roc about
Soon as we pulled up, he extendin’ his hand, coppin’ out
He a bitch, I don’t know if I want to pop him or knock him out
Ridin’ with the Ruger, with a few shooters
Spend a check on that pussy, I’m tryna end a nigga future
So the Dots gon’ be there for you when we pull up?
No, the Dots gon’ be in Harlem when we fuck your whole hood up
You joined a clique hours from your town, how your hood tough?
You’re from the county, my real Baltimore niggas stood up
You see me in your city, was gettin’ money when we pulled up
And real recognize real, they knew that they couldn’t juug us
Don’t fuck with me, I just don’t understand
Smack told me he was a wanted man
You know I always kill whoever he wanted dead
Ever since he caught me talkin’ about Ill
It ain’t to put no money on his head
On my way to STL like ain’t no stoppin’ in me
Funded my own trip and still brung them choppers with me
This nigga better have a doctor with him
Knife game good, I’m ‘bout to stop a kidney
Addin’ fuel to the fire
In the streets for real but still a fool in a cypher
Get him murdered for half off: my shooter’s a swiper
No lie, Goodz, they’ll get him for half off
And for another stack, he gon’ do it with his mask off
Who pops shit? They think Roc it? That’s when they blast off
So many K’s, I need a Cy Young: these all fastballs!
I serve the bass, I serve the bass
Randy Johnson: bust birds open over the plate
See he just talk them gun bars—gun that, gun this
If the beef pop right now, I bet y’all ain’t even got a gun to go get
I’m in my bag, lookin’ for a tag that his toe fit
And tell Drake ain’t a nigga on the planet can say he wrote this
I don’t get it, it ain’t like I’m takin’ up for Meek
But I just witnessed my people turn on me for a Canadian
And I’m a nigga from the streets
So I don’t get it, but we ain’t about to work up a sweat
I knew Meek was a real nigga when he had Nicki twerkin’ the decks
Moment of silence for the chopper boy
Moment of silence for my nigga Dots
Shit real where I come from
Ain’t nobody think about no deals where I come from
Talked to him yesterday, and now he killed where I come from
How you think I feel? Bitch, I still live where I come from!
I come from a place where Buffs and Rollies is a trophy
Ten bands is a goal
You know you can make it to a 100 long as your mans don’t fold
And then it’s off into the millions
Real estate, buyin’ all the buildings
In the midst of all of this they’re tryna kill you
Livin’ in a world where it’s way more fake niggas than real ones
So now I’m in a situation of where the masses can’t feel me
Shoebox Money dropped on iTunes today
Go and get that bitch if you’re tryin’ to figure out the real me

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
I ain’t the type to see a situation and speak upon what I rather do
You know, ‘cause everybody say what they woulda did
‘Til they’re the ones that it happen to
You tried to set Suge up in Detroit
‘Cause you was scared to throw a smack for Proof?
Miles, Marv, X, I’m takin’ Detroit from Cal and givin’ it back to you
Let me rap with you
Who said this would be classical? When the niggas that you sent at me ain’t better than me, that’s factual
JC out-rappin’ you, QP would make us laugh at you
Ill Will woulda probably ended up smackin’ you, nigga
You think you’re tough ‘cause of the shit you did to Pat?
You picked the right one
Couldn’t picture you doin’ that shit to Math
I couldn’t picture you doin’ that shit to Suge
Or doin’ that shit to me, my nigga, I wish you would
If I’m in his hood, find him and let this nigga know
When I see him that he comin’ up off of his dinner rolls
I’ll pull the gun out
Like, “Why’d you bring ’em out if you can’t spend ’em for?”
The money he kicked out, I coulda bet that shit on a 10 to 4
I clap it ‘til it got a temperature, that’s a scary sight
I’ma wind up in a cell, see us ain’t fair in height
I’m very nice and prepared to fight
You’ll get your head clapped with the four five
Six will send him to paradise, paring knife
Buck-50, he gon’ come out the hospital soundin’ like Barry White
Yeah this dude could be bonier, but you’re Cuban zirconium
In the ring you shine but you ain’t very bright
Fuckin’ dummy! To hell with him!
This stupid motherfucker got caught
For fightin’ chickens instead of sellin’ them
I got a plug out in Cali too that be mailin’ them
Cops kicked my door for the P’s, but I ain’t tell on him
I bailed out, beat the case and got all papers for that
September 10th of this year just got off probation for that
I ain’t asked my PO when I had to make it to Smack
I ain’t give a fuck about gettin’ caught out of state
Long as I made it to rap, fact, this is why Tay is the truth
‘Cause from the fans I take the abuse
And I don’t never make an excuse
Smack, they turned their back and betray for the loot
You just keep givin’ them enough rope, I’ma make it a noose
It’s clear that I’m given a shot: Bombay
Get shot while it’s broad day, it’ll fuck up your broad day
Iron buck, it look like lightning struck in the hallway
Leave big boy in a flat-out cast like André
You told us about your dad, Big Meech and all of the details
We know you from Detroit, stop tellin’ us all of these D tales
We had enough, but it’s time that I shut this faggot up
Put his face in an obituary like when he battled Lux
Now what’s up? I shoulda told Lux “Bring that casket up!”
‘Cause when you battled him
That was the wake, this where the casket shut
Who the next nigga from Detroit that I have to battle? Fuck
I’ll hit Quest shin with the axe until the hatchet’s stuck
The ratchet tucked, I’ll send Cal to Heaven
You spit a bunch of dumb shit with wild aggression
The best 300 I spent was on a strap investment
Bought this Uzi in 2004, nigga my MAC eleven
You gonna beat me? No, still niggas lyin’
Tell him like I told the others, I don’t feel niggas’ rhymes
Who he foolin’ with them steel-grippin’ lines?
Fuckin’ with me, you’ll get smacked, we on real nigga time

[Round 3: Calicoe]
Ayy, I got a question
Clap it up if y’all see that we just proved that gun bar thing
No? I’m King Joffery Joffer, he’s just Prince Akeem
I really did that dirt under them gloves with the prints not seen
See you in a box, but he’s gettin’ boxed, I ain’t Prince Naseem
So fuck them gun bars!
There’s way more important things in the battle shit
Well I’m an analyst
And there’s multiple reasons on why you’re average
You think this battle shit
You’re just showin’ up talkin’ about how your ‘matic spit
But you don’t talk to niggas, Roc
You just bark at niggas, Roc
Look how I walk them niggas, watch
And kill ‘em from angles that’s least expected
Clips don’t love you, he killed you twice
And he ain’t teach this lesson
You’ve been here way before me, Roc
I know, I know you’re wonderin’ how I keep progressin’
Ayy, Smack, it look like I’m the senior and he’s the freshman
But he had ten battles before I even met Smack
Now I bet that there’s niggas at home takin’ their bets back
I catch lil’ Roc in my hood, he’ll get his neck snapped
And stash his body where I got the bricks: now that’s a death trap
I hope it ain’t none of my niggas that he spoke about
I bet the house, my little soldiers will take your soldiers out
Or we can square up, one on one, don’t want to go that route?
Well I can let these guns speak for me
But one of them a motor mouth
It talk too much like I gave it a clip of Adderall
Give him the whole catalog, kill this nigga with sandals on
That’s my shit, bet you know I wasn’t worried about nothin’
But Momma be lookin’ in my eyes
Like, “You’re worried about somethin’.”
She know me, Summer Madness, I’m here to fill the drama
Who been here since day one? Nigga I’m still the problem
They asked why I ain’t focus on this shit
‘Cause I got realer problems
I’m hopin’ he don’t say nothin’ that’ll make me kill his momma
I’m hopin’ he don’t say nothin’, tell him to keep it silent
I hope you don’t say nothin’ that’s gon’ make me go and get Jemiah—that’s his daughter, but he lucky that I love the kids
‘Cause he on stage talkin’ like he don’t love to live
Remember runnin’ in cribs like, “Where your brother live?”
But niggas tellin’ me stories ‘bout what their brothers did
Some shit you just can’t explain
Like you joinin’ the Dots—you thought that was the money train?
You make me want to slap the shit out of Damon Wayans
Ain’t no way I’ma join another group of niggas
And my career ain’t gon’ make a change
Ayy, that’s what these battle niggas do for fame
His tail probably was waggin’ when Mook was like
“Yeah, you can hang” and then the nigga found out Mook a lame!
These niggas faker than these Cuban chains
Ayy, Smack, this was a mismatch, the worst kind
Last time we seen his face it was the Clips match the first time
Clip hangin’ out like a parenthesis, watch me reverse somethin’
Glock poppin’ in his window while his miss twerk somethin’
I hate niggas that be frontin’ for the booth
When it’s danger I’ll drain ‘em, put a gutter in his roof
Who’s in Dot Mobb? The fans don’t know nothin’ but Mook
You said I was Isaiah gettin’ pissed on?
Wrong era, I’m Chauncey Billups: I don’t do nothin’ but shoot
Nine bullets for nine lives, I kill cats
My life like a game of Jenga, it builds stacks
He try to roll up on me but his wheel’s flat
Smack, he’s comin’ at Shoebox with Jae Millz stats
After a nigga battle me I make him feel wack
‘Cause it’s a difference between metaphors and real rap

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