Tay Roc vs. Charron [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
Real niggas was callin’ my phone like, “This can not be legit.”
Look at him, do he look like the type of dude I get to beefin’ with?
They tellin’ me don’t use the street approach
‘Cause at King Of The Dot this geek can spit
Eat a dick! This is America, you Canadian piece of shit!
What’s this supposed to be?
Tay Roc vers’ the white boy that spray Glocks?
Bitch, you look like McLovin, Paul Walker and Michael J. Fox
I heard about that relationship that you and Pat Stay got
Ayy, Pat, this your bitch? Well, this is how I’ma do your bae, watch (Baywatch)
Your corny ass will get DDT’d on the floor and dragged
Robbed for you ID, debit card and boarding pass
I’m surely mad, a switchblade will do Corey bad
I pass my nigga P the gun (Peter Gunz) and hit Corey’s dad
How you start battle rappin’ where you from? I don’t get it, fam’
You ain’t even qualified for the shit you sayin’, this shit a scam
Where I’m from it’s a must that I grip a can
But you are from Ottawa, Canada
Google it, shit look like Disney Land
Ayy, where he’s from there’s nowhere that y’all would fair stand
22 murders happened in his city within a year span
Fuck you know about cops killin’ black people?
Can you picture that? No
‘Cause more niggas die on roller coasters than were you livin’ at
Your city wack, I’ll pop up in Ottawa with a mini MAC
I ain’t showin’ mercy, I damn sure won’t show you pity, Pat
You try to run when I grab on the gat
Bullets go through Charron and then they hit Pat on the back
I was in school with pussies like you and they was all geeks
When I wanted my homework done I kinda gave ’em a hard speech, like, “If all my answers wrong you get fucked up
But if you get ’em right, you get to buy my lunch all week.”
This nigga Charron is beyond sweet
You let a nigga that slap niggas’ asses leave a hand print on your soft cheek
And you ain’t even slap him back, you slap my hat
I’ma have a toy comin’ out the box for this cracker Jack
Matter of fact, this for my fans
Don’t talk about how you been on Smack
When you ain’t even see the top man
Talk about how you been on Smack and your nose can hold five grams
Talk about the last time you been on Smack and you lost
To K-Shine’s hand, goddamn!
Who say he amazin’?
You only like him ’cause he a white boy with cool rebuttals
Besides that you ain’t entertainin’
When you get hit with this .380 I’m wavin’
I’ll leave a pig on the strip, all y’all gon’ see is a Canadian bakin’ (bacon)
You Canadian fag! Ayy, Ars, I do a Canadian bad
I make sure this white boy leaves red like the Canadian flag
You know the leaves are red on the Canadian flag
If you didn’t know; I’ll slit your throat
Have you chokin’ in front of Bishop Brigante like Cyssero
Get me, bro? You look like a cab driver
A dirty, blond hair, real-life version of Quagmire
Picture him trappin’ tryin’ to get his stacks higher
I got goons that’ll Rob ’em and leave with his baby like Blac Chyna
You gon’ make me come to Canada, get pointed to your hood
Find you and your clan members, then point it to your hood
If I can’t find you, then fuck it, I’ll lynch the wrong person
Strapped with three K’s, who ever we come across (a cross) burnin’
I can take that same bar and do a different version
Niggas murk him, leave a cracker body in Mississippi Burning
I ain’t a friendly person, if it jam you’ll be really hurtin’
I’ll fuck around and beat you with it ’til the semi workin’
All that Smack Killer shit, watch your mouth
Don’t get your jaw splitted
I’ll have Ars like, “Chill out, Roc, you know he autistic!”
I don’t give a fuck!
If you had that King of the Dot chain I would run off with it
Snatch it off your neck so hard your head will come off with it
Light bars!

[Round 1: Charron]
They said I was facing a giant when I hopped in the ring
This is David vers’ Goliath, I’m putting Roc(k) in a sling
You gon’ violate me? Yeah, you probably could
If you put hands on me I’m tappin’ pockets like Suge
I came to Newark by myself, you thought you was good?
This Ronald Reagan: a white boy’s pushing Roc(k) in the hood
The Gun Bar King, you really pop that tre? Stop that, Tay!
Thinking I’m scared of a Calico, I am not Pat Stay
If it ain’t Smack it don’t count – that’s how you play, Roc?
You think they stop the game when you travel?
This ain’t the NBA, Roc
You told me to calm it down on social media, right?
I’m all up in your face, Roc
You know, calm it down, social media, right?
I ain’t giving you no space, Roc
Every line is how you bust gats and make a gun blast
You don’t need to grab the pump, you have enough gas
Claiming you’ll shoot does not astound me
You acting ’bout that Iron Man like Robert Downey
Using guns as a crutch; I don’t care if there’s Glocks around me
You’re a bitch that can’t win without arm bars, you Ronda Rousey
Taking white out, I’ll expose what your mistakes are
I’m blackin’ so you can’t play the race card
Try to make bars without a Glock or AR
You wanna see a K Shine and an Arsonal of Clips
I’ll bring you to my graveyard
I said respect first, then money, basic shit
When you put people under pressure you can take the shit
Listen, I’ma leave you right where you stand
Have your ambulance pass your Timbalands right off to your man
But those aren’t my bars, I’m not even saying them right
I just wanted to spit a Jadakiss verse before Suge does later tonight
Tay asked me to post a song, I did not do it
Just ’cause I’m white you think I like Roc(k) music?
I mean people are saying that’s light
But a hospital is where you’re taken to
You a second round rapper, this ain’t one you can take in two
Ars’ died, no Liam Neeson but Taken 2 (too)
Find your daughter, make that kidnap, I’m killing Tay kin too
You rep B-More in terrible fashion
I’m giving heavy metal if this Maryland man sin (Marilyn Manson)
Y’all want gun bars?
You the top dawg getting a shot from a vet
You getting killed by Clips, I can copy respect
You spell it R.O.C., that’s a problem I bet
It’s only right I put a K to Roc since I auto-correct
I run up on him on his new home with smoothness
Put it to the back of this dude’s dome, shoot clips
He don’t know, hit him with the TEC’s like, “New phone, who dis?”
I’m the best, dawg, it’s killing season
If I’m slept on, he really sleepin’
So back off, get in my face I’m twisting caps off
You get the Nitty treatment
I will break into this bitch’s home
I’ll give everyone in that room aid if you don’t live alone
But you gon’ get these hands, it’ll split your dome
I’ll beat the piss out Roc(k): that’s a kidney stone
But it don’t sound believable, right? Just ’cause I’m nerdy
I swear to God I’ll do him dirty
Walk up to him with my fists like— Jersey!

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Ayo, back up off me!
You should’ve known you would die if Ars’ had to call me
Just think of Eddie Murphy in Shrek: I’ma act a donkey
You say anything close to “nigga” I’ll smack a honky
This the round I disrespect him, I’ma have you crackers salty
I might lose a couple white friends when this battle through
My man Zack hit me like, “Hey man, I ain’t know you felt that way about white people,” – well, now you do
Nothin’ against all white people ’cause they got talent too
But since you a cracker, I’ma use crackers to wil’ on you
Like, I was thinkin’ about comin’ to this battle
And forgettin’ everything I was gon’ rap about
Soon as Rae Swag say “Call it in the a—”
I was gonna crack your scalp
Have Ars’ like “Roc, what’s that about? Why you blackin’ out?”
‘Cause I told you, if I don’t like the Party Mix I take the crackers out
If Pat Stay think he big and bad I quickly stab ya
Put it in his back, twist the dagger, lift and clap ya
Charron, we gon’ go fishing after – I’ma toss you off a boat
All the cops gon’ find is tuna fish and crackers
Faggot, don’t make a pound come off the waist
I will get white chalked, you are bound to get erased
I’m bein’ childish in the place, I’m really wildin’ on your race
I don’t like cheese and crackers so don’t be smilin’ in my face
I’ll have your ankles tied to a cinder block
You get thrown off a river dock
Get the plot? Get the land in place of this pilgrim is Plymouth Rock
I’ll grip a Glock, show up to your front door and I nigga knock
For thinkin’ you’se an animal, cracker, you get put in a box
Fuck you! Which one of y’all Grape’s shoot for him?
You gassed thinkin’ you can win, why they boostin’ him?
Ars’, I fuck with Jersey
But I am not fuckin’ with them if they root for him
This ain’t communion, so why we got crackers and Grapes juicin’ him?
I’m doin’ cracker flips ’cause I love crackers
You ain’t from round these parts and we don’t fuck with you squares: this ain’t your club, cracker
I catch your grandmother, niggas Saran Wrap her
I got goons and I send ’em in (cinnamon) for your gram (graham) cracker – that’s different
When you run up on me, have your weapon drawn
Or it’ll be a Dizaster, this mini chopper from Lebanon
You’ll be missin’ for hella long
The cops gonna have to go (gold) fish for a cracker
That’s Pepperidge Farm
He’ll get hit with somethin’ husky, it ain’t a sled dog
Run, get your whole wig blew (blue): Sonic the Hedgehog
You a bitch-ass white boy that probably owns a pet frog
Pat Stay said he be fuckin’ you and your pussy smell like wet dog
Faggot, don’t talk like you get hella reckless
You with a gun? Ehh…
That’s just as effective as Ace Ventura the Pet Detective
Your temple will get rocked, if you ain’t got that protected
Your view will be more fucked up than everyone else’s
That’s bad perspective
Do some stupid shit, I got a surprise for you
Who said I wouldn’t get my second half if I knocked you out?
Ars’ lied to you
I’ll fuck around, crack your head in half
And Ars’ will tell you that we ain’t get paid for breach of contract
And we’ll split your second half
Dude is a fraud, I’ll crack your face how I do a cigar
A pair will lie him down, paralyze you
Your body won’t have no movement at all
Reload the clip, let your crew get involved
I got a sample for everybody like Chinese food in the mall
You stabbin’ and shootin’ who?
Not Shaggy from Scooby Doo
Only time you had a 100 Bulletz at your side was your 2-on-2
If we fight, you don’t even know what I would do to you
I’ll slap your brain halfway out your head
You won’t know who is who
You say stupid shit out your mouth
You pull out a fake hammer, I’ma show you a real gun
You say shit that’s real dumb
Like, “I’ma fuck up Roc’s chances of getting Hollow.”
That’s only gon’ increase your chances of getting a real one
I’m done clownin’ him a little
This what happens when you put Malcolm X vers’ Malcolm in the Middle

[Round 2: Charron]
I said I fucked you up that first round, that’s legit
I mean why you think that I’d be salty?
‘Cause all you had was some cracker flips?
Well, your girl sucked my dick, I was at that bitch’s house
Since he brought up holy communion
You should’ve known she had a cracker in her mouth
Yo, but me and Tay Roc are boys, I ain’t mad at you, son
We’ll get back to the fishing trips once this match up is done
We partied at the last Smack event, it was actually fun
Until the bouncer kicked him out ’cause he couldn’t handle his Rum
Amnittyville?! You just making up new words
That’s a reach, I guess being Gun Titles is a few perks
Against Nitty you didn’t even sound like you, fact is the truth hurts
Before the battle: Tay Roc! During the battle: Tsu Surf!
But fuck the jokes, let me start to talk
Alcatraz, I got bars for Roc(k)
I’ll pay your old girl to shank ya, ex marks the spot
Mt. Rushmore: for (four) dead presidents I’ll be carving Roc(k)
But he’s a gangster, he really sparks the Glock
Since he’s a G I’ll adjust (geologist)
To break down every part of Roc(k)
Now they can see I have more heart than Roc
You know C.I., Central Intelligence, Kevin Hart/The Rock
When you rap on URL, that’s gas
You have a partner in Gun Titles, that’s trash
Tell Surf I’d win every round, that’s facts
This Canadian will drop three on you: that’s Nash!!!
And you said you’d put a face on the fifty like Thomas Jefferson
That’s light: Thomas Edison
Like why you performin’ that?
This who Baltimore ravin’ (Raven)? Y’all don’t give him flack? Oh
I didn’t know he was your quarterback
I run up on him, he go toward the back
I got Tay Roc in reverse from where Corey at
What, I gotta spell it out for you? “Tay Roc” in reverse is “Cory At”
Now Corey’s back, don’t make this shit more than rap
Your grave big, it’s something Taye dig (Diggs) since you’re an act
Fight fire with fire
You bring the deuce deuce, we make the 40 clap
This a 30, Roc, pull out a tre, see more guns (Tracy Morgan) back
It’s no issue, we gon’ rip through your bone tissue
You got some Baltimore boys, I’ll take their souls with you
This diva dyin’, I don’t care if your Maryland men roll (Marilyn Monroe) with you
As soon as dislocate, the arms poppin’
You’ve been doing all of this gun talk, your bars floppin’
Fuck rap, let’s take it out back and start boxin’
Your career can end outside of the ring like Bernard Hopkins
You do not phase me
I gotta shout out the Illuminati since they paid me
These hands will put Roc in the air: I’m Jay-Z
But me and Ars’ gon’ do a drive-by, I’ll let the gat blow
The cops catch me it’s cool, they probably know my dad yo
Yo, the seat recline, clap slow
I Lean Back, now Rockaway like I’m Fat Joe
But these gun bars aren’t believable, there’s a slight difference
You’ll get raised by the pops: that’s white privilege
But they say whites don’t belong in hip hop, I thought that’s cool
I ain’t tryin’ to Jack Black culture when Roc(k) get schooled
You overreact when you pop the tool
They gave you energy off gassin’ Roc (gas and rock) like fossil fuels
Round two, light bars

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
Ayy, you pulled out a purple flag vers’ Ars’
Like you was Crippin’ and shit
I dare you pull out a purple flag now that the Crips in this bitch
I heard his parents was rich as a bitch
So if I get this white boy Rob’bed, would that be Ridiculousness?
No MTV, think TMZ when I’m shootin’ shit out the whip
I be Wild N’ Out, ain’t nothin’ humorous ’bout the Clips
Pistol whip you ’til your bowels loose and you is about to shit
Keep talkin’, pussy, I’ll slap the uterus out your lips
You look the type to Catfish a nigga, usin’ a lady picture
Nah, you look like a kid that got molested
By his Catholic priest and his baby sitter
Who paid this wigger? I cut your face, let the razor skin ya
A lead pipe put your Chin on a pole like an Asian stripper
Why switch up my style for you, when I can zone out?
Instead of a different approach I’ll take my own route
If he was strapped and hesitated to pull his chrome out
I take his gun from him and put this cracker barrel in his own mouth
Get his wig blown out with a street sweeper
We keep heaters, 9 milli’s, street sweepers
Think it’s a game ’til my peeps see ya
They chop you up with a meat cleaver
Then stuff you right in the deep freezer
I run in cribs, act like you know what the fuck it is
Before I come to yours, kick your door, start dumpin’ SIG’s
I am at his mother, then bust her wig
His whole family get hit with the machine
That’s Honey, I Shrunk the Kids
Who want the biz? I’ma make him eat a Heckler
The clip hang so you know it’s more to it like et cetera
This cracker’s a faggot, I’m tellin’ ya
You was scared when Bonnie grabbed your dick
But you let Pat Stay do that shit on the regular
That’s weird shit, that’s queer shit, and you a soft nerd
Trip, I’ll smack Mark Wahlberg with the Mossberg
Shots fired, shells droppin’, all y’all heard
I have the detectives try to solve a puzzle if we cross words
The toolie air ya – try me, I truly dare ya
What I do with a bat the docs won’t be able to repair ya
I put a gash in his head, the whole wound will scare ya
When I’m finished he can’t fit his hat
I call that leavin’ no room for error (Era)
He’d probly sue me if I swung off on him
Hook you up to life support, then pull the plug off on him
We’d fuck Pat’s big ass up, you gon’ run off on him
Get back smacked ’til the black of my hand rub off on him
Out in London you battled Chilla, they was callin’ you “Sharon”
Even though your name is Charron, I guess they just wasn’t carin’
But I got a box for you, Sharon, and you won’t go in there alone
I have Pat Stay and Sharon sharin’ caskets and sharin’ (Sharon) Stones
I air the tone, in his skull I’m tryin’ to put one
Your face turn purple, your autopsy gon’ look dumb
Why you keep talkin’? You the shook one
This white boy gon’ die tryin’ to hang off Roc(k)
That’s Macaulay Culkin in The Good Son
Ayy, if we don’t get the job done right once we rock you?
Then we treat white like crack and re-rock you
Why put the pump on his tongue like a Reebok shoe?
I put you in that casket, take you out, then re-box you
Psssst… Gang

[Round 3: Charron]
He called me Macaulay Culkin, so I got all kind of different flips
I could say it’s ’cause I’m in the trap house and pitchin’ bricks
Nah, I ain’t gonna say that
That’s something that Macaulay Culkin had said
I’m more like Joe Pesci though in Home Alone
‘Cause I’m fire off the top of the head
I can do anything, I can do a couple flips
I can do shit that you can do, talk about the gun I grip
I can do anything, I can even go rebuttal this
He says it looks like I Catfished someone
Well, you don’t know who you fuckin’ with
And you heard him call me Wahlberg so I’ma use the lead
The bear will (barrel) talk to this Mark like the movie Ted
He wouldn’t put some money up, this bitch is lame
I’ma take Roc(k) Paper for thinking this is a (Scissor) game
I even push zips when I’m travellin’
I take everyone’s work and flip it like John John when he’s battlin’
Soon as I find out that house that you trappin’ in
You come home to an empty crib
With no china/Chyna, you Rob Kardashian
“I’ll stick my dick in your daughter’s pudding”
You said that to Arsonal? Damn!
After Newark you gon’ be M.I.A. like Arsonal’s fam’
Out in Maryland you’ll get dropped
Hit your ratchet wifey with a motherfuckin’ head shot
Got her in a leg lock, hospital the next stop
Flintstones, Bam Bam, your whole family in a bed, Roc (Bedrock)
I saw a picture of your woman
She’s beautiful, she can catch pipe
I was all up in her raw dog last night
Nine months later there’s a kid, he’s mad hype
‘Til he sees the color of his skin
And screams “That’s light! That’s light!”
You know what else rhymes with “That’s light?”
“You’re being pimped out by Smack White.”
He got you on contract for $3,500? That’s light
But you thought Jefferson was on the $50
You ain’t never had your cash right
On Facebook you apologized to Smack for takin’ this match
As a family man you should never be sorry for makin’ some cash
He posted, “My loyalty is with Smack
No other league’s worthy of these gun bars.”
Delete, disappeared quicker than a Tsu Surf gun charge
You think being disrespectful is all that counts
Well, Ars’ left URL, started UDubb and bought a house
So what’s more disrespectful
You saying you bust a nut on his daughter’s blouse
Or you allowing Smack to take food out your daughter’s mouth?
You’re a big name, go and charge some leagues
Smack don’t want you to make bread, it ain’t hard to see
Your daughter is gonna cry at Christmas
Like, “Daddy, how come there’s no cards to read?”
And you’ll be like, “Sorry, princess, this year Christmas is on RNT
Look at Smack when you and Nitty almost fought
He couldn’t stop smilin’
If he says he doesn’t make money off you, tell him to stop lyin’
What you amountin’ (a mountain) to? He’s stock pilin’
He’s using you as a stepping stone
To get to the top, he’s Roc(k) climbin’
I’ll pay someone to kill you, cash deposit
I say get him from long range ain’t a cat that saw it
Now rocket from a distance like NASA launched it
The way my Hitman Shot Guns not even Smack could block it
You’ve had crowd control all of your life
Well, I’m all up in your grill, I make ’em more hype
I got the hands up before the punch: that’s a Norbes fight
You lost, call up Mr. Classic and apologize for that
You can make fun of me since I was slapped
But I’d rather get smacked by Shine
Than owe all my shine to Smack
He just used you to stack chips, Shine may have left hand prints
But I’d rather get smacked, bitch, than be Smack’s bitch
Another URL rapper I get to add to the bag
Was supposed to go against Tsu
But I swore to kill this man from the Cave
Next I want Lux, Mook, I’m coming after the names
I’m just using Roc as a chess piece like Andy Dufresne
And next you want Hollow on URL? Let me close with a fun fact
You just lost to Charron at UDubb
Let’s see if they let you come back – two, one!

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