Tsu Surf & Tay Roc (Guntitles) vs. DNA & K-Shine (NWX) [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tsu Surf & (Tay Roc)]
I called Roc like, “Yo, cuz,” (I was with a bad bitch)
Got some cash on some ho’s head
(You know I’m with a fast flip)
Dead or alive, (buttoned shirt with the bag zipped)
Boy, I have Roc on your ass like the Fast 6
(Aye, I tell my shooters “Paul Walker”)
But that just means crash whips
(Everybody get an arm in their face), but I won’t dab shit
Yo, we brought two twin ninas, (extendos), mad clips
(Me and Surf drivin’ through New York), on some fast shit
(He hopped out, ain’t let the whip stop), I’m tryna blast shit
(I jump with the ratchet sister like, “Yas, bitch!”)
We got a problem, Houston; (Whitney)
I bring a bitch with bald heads; (Britney)
Could put it on the house, (this shit smokin’ like a chimney)
Entry wound like a dime, (exit wound like a frisbee)
100-round drum makes the shootin’ shit easy
(Big T fingers after lunch; do ‘em greasy)
Before the shot, (Hanes shirt), after the shot, (Yeezy)
Before the cut, (Shumpert), after the cut, (Beasley)
I’ll make a phone call, find out where they all be
(We let gloves cover the arm; that’s a long sleeve)
Four four with the wood handle, I’ll pull a palm tree
(Before the shot), Big T, (after the shot), Tall T
Pistol whippin’, pull the pistol grippin’ from the light side
(He ain’t know how much the heat weighted)
It beat his meat to the white side
(That’s hospital beds, I’m insurin’ the tubes)
With mashed potatoes, applesauce, and Ensure in the tubes
(I’m comin’ to get him myself, I ain’t payin’ killers)
It’s gon’ be nurses, stitches, bandages, and painkillers
(You, you, Saga, Big T, y’all gon’ need backup)
Or it’s Martin reruns, in the bed with the back up
(It’s gon’ be shells on the ground
He’s faced down with his ass out)
And wake up in the hospital bed in a gown with his ass out
(One phone call, hella V’s, they’re surroundin’ y’all
Bunch of goons, clappin’ at the niggas, they’re proud of y’all)
I’ll put a whole ki on his head; that’s a powder call
Pause, (have a bunch of niggas)
Try to hit him like the Powerball
These hammers ain’t for construction
How I grip it and bang it (What else?)
Whole whip gettin’ sprayed, it ain’t gettin’ repainted
(What else?) Roll him over on his back
(Fuck, that nigga done fainted?)
Boy, you look like a cop, (I’ll put this pig in a blanket)
Hang his daughter over the balcony, I’ll give her the Blanket
(Eight ounces of sizzy in the baby bottle
I’ll get her to drink it)
That Lenscrafter shit was genius
(This new shit spit four blocks)
MK with the binoculars, I got Michael Kors watch
(That last shit was crazy, Shine
I shouldn’t have disrespected your daughter)
I ain’t hear you, what you say to him? (That last shit was crazy, I shouldn’t have disrespected his daughter)
Nah, fuck that, Roc, if I’m open, I’ma Kyle Korv her
Two bodies, two choirs, they’re gon’ need more singers
If I miss with our 26, I’ll pull that long nick, the Porzingis
(Fuck we got to put it in Gun Titles or somethin’?
That means get her outta here
If I got to hit her with the metal and lake her
They’re gon’ have to fish her outta there
Fuck battle rap, you know I really don’t like you, no fakin’)
We’re some bad boys too, we’ll do ‘em like the Zoe Haitians
(We put in work like we made reservations), no waitin’
(Show up to your funeral)
To make sure you’re in/urine like probation
(Somebody get the box out)
That’s how you get the board on him
(I’ll give him a shit bag, take it, shake it, then pour it on him)
That silver near like a souvenir, I bought it for him
(K was the intended receiver), but D back caught it for him
Black wheelchair, black dress
We gon’ make sure his mama there
.24 wavin’ out, playin’ like the Mamba there
(But Roc ain’t gon’ miss shells, you’ll need Obamacare
Coroners gon’ have to zip ‘em up
And get ‘em the fuck outta here)

[Round 1: K-Shine & (DNA)]
You got to watch what you say around Surf (and Roc)
You know them niggas like to tattle talk
(Conversatin’ about their death
But the shit sound like battle talk
I was on the phone with Shine, like)
“Hello”, (“Yo, make sure you bring that Toranio for Tay”)
“You need a Lux and Charron friend?”
(“Yeah, make sure you bring that Nigel for Surf”)
“So if they Darrel us, bring that Jones in”
(“Yeah, I got my Akeem from Philly
You know that murder rate is high”)
“Cool, I got my MAC event, it’s a perfect day to die”
(Nah, I know, I know, it sound like silly shit
But that’s a code for gun titles)
Let me tell you what that really meant
(That mean grab the ratchet, Shine, Toranio)
That’s a Calico to push Roc like Summer Madness 5
That Lux and Charron friend? (That means it’s loaded
With a hundred bullets when the heat clappin’
What’s Nigel?) That’s a hollow, (so if they try to derail us)
He gettin’ that arsenal like they’re rematchin’
What’s that Akeem ‘bout? (That’s a TEC-9 from Philly)
You know what that means, (that it means you ain’t never lie
That’s the main event from Perfect Day To Die?)
That mean he turn his back on shotgun
And die from clips the second time
You not liable, today I got somethin’ swifter, the mop risin’
(Man, lift the fifth up
You’re fuckin’ your wrist up), it’s lopsided
(Fuck Surf, you need to worry
About the nigga that’s Dot Mobbin’
Fuck what the beef amountin’ to)
I’m shootin’ wherever Roc climbin’
(Jersey talk, say that, we’re lockin’ them down)
You know the homie don’t play that, (we’re sockin’ a clown)
Let’s get it started, this department stores a lot in the cal
(You should’ve known he was a target
When he put this Dot in his round)
But look, I ain’t got a round to lose
(Well, I got a round to use; I’m feelin’ like Gwitty)
Get hype, man, (and get the loudest Uz’
What else?) Their death gon’ be on that counter too
(Shine, what else?) If he swing, then I’ma counter too
What if Surf jump in? (Well, I’ma counter Tsu
‘Cause my death ain’t gonna be on the account of Tsu
What if he peel off?) Get drug over the counter, Tsu
(The doctors will be tryna get money back
Like they countersued)
Aye, Big T, I’m ‘bout to hurt Tsu
(But it hurts to) know that we’re not the first to
(Ever since Joe Buddens put you in the verse, Tsu)
You think you’re universal
(But you ain’t signed to Def Jam), Interscope, or (Universal)
If I don’t get my pursuits, Tsu, (then we pursue)
Anybody I got to murk too, (let’s throw it in reversal)
I will verse Tsu, (have his insides out), like Universal [?]
I’ll give my little homie a capsule, he’ll lose his capsule
(Then he’ll cap Tsu), I’m just goin’ off the cap, Tsu
(So it’s your own problem if you touch his cap, Tsu
Charron, problem, cap, Tsu)
I got to ask you, how you attack move?
But you’re with Roc today? (Stop it, K
Now, we all know that the Dots will say)
“It’s not the same,” (he’ll get shot from a block away)
Tell that West Coast nigga not to play
(This the bitch who Tay digs?)
You ain’t even the best, man, hol’ at Day
(What we got, the gas all-stars?) Let’s take a chance
(Snitch nigga, you’ll take the stand
The whole crowd screamin’ y’all should kill Jersey)
And I’ma lake his fan
Arms lock, (with a firm grim), I ain’t shakin’ hands
(Let a shot loose), hit Roc group, (I’m tryna make a band
This nigga been bringin’ Smack down), spray the can
(Go against the pops)
You’re gettin’ the business next; Shane McMahon
(And I plan to) make it land, (the handle), beige his tan
(It’s brand new), and let it can Tsu like a change of plans
(Gun Titles, y’all gon’ need three biscuits)
A llama, a .40, a TEC, (machines lifted)
With heat vision, (heavy rounds, deep dishes
With a gun so big the nigga Hitman) can’t remix it
(I’m talkin’ that chilaka boom, boom, boom), that T spittin’
(I’m talkin’ about it’s in the car), like Reed visit
(Then revisit with a 9, a blicky, a 9, a Desi)
Have his team missin’, (the types of swammies we got
To make the nigga Surf) reach different
(It’s round one, it’s gettin’ hot in here
What’s your slogan?) Zip ‘Em Up!
(What’s mine?) Get ‘Em The Fuck Outta Here!
(Hell no, you reach, get urn and ash the fuck outta here!
My tank is full, get that gas the fuck outta here!
Get anybody that’s been on their dick
From the jump the fuck outta here!
And get any 2-on-2 that’s not us the fuck outta here!)

[Round 2: Tsu Surf & (Tay Roc)]
(Everybody want to roll), but niggas be fearin’ the ride
(You’re gettin’ knocked out
Then wake up, gettin’ buried alive)
I’m more official with the four, (but I carry the five
And I’ll put it on your kids like I’m swearin’ to God)
Somebody gettin’ bent all out of shape
When I’m poppin’ mine
.40 cal ate his side; that’s an octagon
(Surf, that was mean, let me try angles
Circle his block, lookin’ for squares when I’m grippin’ mine
Boy, when I bang shit
Look like a plane hit; that’s the Pentagon)
I let a few bang you, (dear God, I’ll send you a few angels)
Just how I like ‘em, layin’ in an ugly box in a cute angle
I got the drop on a nigga, heard the safe in a home
I pull up, I’ll Bill Cosby, then I’m takin’ him home
(Hold up, Surf, that’s a reach, how you gon’ Bill on a nigga?)
That ain’t no reach, Roc, that mean I’ma peel on a nigga
(Aye, DNA want to know how we got cool
Surf, should we tell him?) Of course
(I was fuckin’ with your moms), and I was fuckin’ with yours
DNA couldn’t come outside ‘til he was done with his chores
(And Shine put makeup around his mouth to cover the sores
My jacket, full of purple hearts, covered with wars)
Your what? (My jacket
Full of purple hearts, covered with wars)
I’ll Andre Drummond the house, nothin’ but boards
(They’ll find his mother in the woods), back trunk of a Ford
I crept up behind her, the choice of weapon, a cord
(Put the maximum on his head
The homies will do it for nothin’ probably)
Shit, for that fee, I’ll do it, and pile her on the other bodies
(What you say?) Impala on the other bodies
(Son not a G, he a soft liar)
He said, son not a G, he a soft liar
DNA better jet or get caught up in the crossfire
(Aye, Smack, give us one of them wild mid-tier niggas)
That would be more threats
(Y’all more like mid-tier, top-tier niggas), y’all are Cor vets
(Nah, but scratch that, real shit
And for you new niggas playin’ games)
I ain’t with the fuckin’ jokes (What?)
Nitty’ll get buried with the work
That’s how you mix Rum and coke
(Son wait, that was dumb straight
But back shots, bullets steam out his chest
The block’s smellin’ like Rum cake)
No joke when I’m raisin’ the chrome
I’ll let two pick in his mouth, *tch, tch* – Razor Ramon
(Breakin’ your bones, you don’t want to see this heater bang
Boy, this British Bulldog got me walkin’ like I need a cane)
Sound like Austin walkin’ when I blam mine
No gloves, fuck it, I’ll use a sock for this man kind
(Sting mask, I can go Hannibal and stalk him
Or Legion of Doom, I can be animal and hawk him)
DNA, I don’t respect you, you be bitchin’ with these ladders
Matt and Jeff Hardy; we be flippin’ with these ladders
(I never missed a perfect shot, I get it done
I brought my undertaker
And my road dog brought his badass Billy gun)
Say swear to God you ain’t a faggot
(Well, that’s that they told us)
If we cremated this bitch, his ashes’d be gold dust
Hey Roc? (Uh-huh?) Hey Roc? (What?)
Hey Roc? (Yeah?) Hey Roc? (What?)
Hey Roc, let these niggas know, (we can do a pick and roll)
Bam, bam, (give and go), don’t matter if it’s big or low
(Fuck, we got to put it in Gun Titles or somethin’?)
I hate that I got to explain a lot (Why?)
‘Cause that big bald head will flame his top
(These niggas is hard of hearin’
D, you and K) shouldn’t be thinkin’ y’all can dunk
(This SK for you and K), they’ll be stinkin’ like a skunk
(Thinkin’ that y’all can fuck with us), D, are you and K drunk?
(Two caskets stacked on top of each other)
Will be you and K, bunk?
(Y’all seen them livin’ through this? I had another vision)
News report of dead on the television
(I hit him with the back of the shotty
He seein’ double vision)
Free El Chapo, I’ll get that scope, I get tunnel vision
(Nah, fuck that, Surf, I ain’t done yet
I’m Spaceman with the shot, they’ll gon’ park in the sunset

[Round 2: K-Shine & (DNA)]
Yo, I was on the […] train
Her little cousin, nah, DNA asked me a question
But I was lookin’ a different direction
(Ayo, K-Shine, yo, I need you to pay attention)
Déjà vu, wait, wait, give me a second
‘Cause it’s a different post above the window
(But I vividly read it)
And it said that, (anybody with a criminal record)
That get charged with possession
(In New Jersey State Law), gets a five-year minimum
(in bold letters), no exceptions
(Message), you got away with the first gun charge
How you pull off the second?
Yo, you really think this nigga tellin’?
(I mean, honestly, he got to be: they don’t got that many get out of jail free cards in Monopoly)
Aye, Roc, wasn’t you on this property?
(He damn sure was, wasn’t he Zip ‘Em Up first?)
Yeah, then he went to the Dots?
(Then he went to the Dots, homie
Damn, before that, wasn’t he Cave Gang?)
I guess now he got to be Gun Titles ‘cause he got to be
(So you’re a Zip, a Cave, Gun Title Dot…)

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