Reed Dollaz vs. Rosenberg Raw [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Reed Dollaz]
Y’all ready?
Are you white or albino?
Should I hit him wit’ that tre-pound Bulldog or that .44 Rhino?
Oh, I know…
I could…come through on the pegs, give three shots to the head…
That’s a fuckin’ trick shot off a GT Dyno!
Now act tough, pussy
I’ll make my nigga come and sock your jaw
You try to run? We lock the door
Get stomped out and mop the floor!
All y’all life, you suburban niggas wanted to be like Philly
Wanna rap like Beanz…wanna act like Gillie!
Grow a beard like Free, surf a wave like Quilly
Until you suckin’ on this four-pound barrel like, really
I mean…”Frozenberg?”

[Rosenberg Raw]

[Reed Dollaz]
Ha-ha! PUSSY, I’ll melt you!
And truth be told, dickhead, we ain’t never felt you
Them shots fly, ain’t none of them niggas wit’ you gon’ help you
You like 38, and this .38 will do you Special
Have you wrapped up, stiff as a board, dead in a box, nigga
This ain’t ’93, I ain’t tryna box, nigga
I’m just tryna open his head, send in the docs, nigga
Toss his body over the bridge, cement and block niggas!
Ain’t your name Kyle?

[Rosenberg Raw]

[Reed Dollaz]
Started rappin’, actin’ gangsta, now you talk wit’ a growl
Said you’re movin’ wit’ the pistol on site, let it blaow
And your man got the burner, but when it shoot, it go…pow
If Bill Collector your shooter, my nigga, you’ll never see me run
He just got locked up in two different cities wit’ a BB gun
But see, these ‘Ks? Like a band: you gon’ see three drums
To reload ’em, cock ’em, and shoot ’em, you gon’ need three thumbs!
The Kobe Bryant of this rap shit, I’ll drop 60 on my last night
I’ll shoot that SKS until that barrel smokin’ like a bagpipe
Pull them Coupes up on yo’ block, Benzs and Jag’ lights
And make you Armor-All the tires like, “Son…I want ’em mad bright!”
That boy Reed back in his bag, that’s what they hatin’ for
But I stay strapped wit’ a gat you need a key to put the safety on
If I lift that gat off my waist and get to quakin’ on him
Slugs’ll lift his soul to the God like Heaven’s waitin’ on him!
Pussy-ass niggas tryna stomp wit’ the big dogs
But if we catch yo’ bitch ass in the field, you gettin’ picked off
Runnin’ wit’ a style I made, I’m gettin’ pissed off
Headshot before the game even start like, “Fuck the tip-off!”
You thought you was gon’ come play that tough role, on this Philly stage?
In Southwest Philadelphia, where I was really raised!?
All the rumbles I got in!? All the GUNS THAT I DONE REALLY BLAZED!?
Pussy, you fuckin’ wit’ a old-school hitter, nigga, like Willie Mays!
Let’s get it, nigga

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s