Danny Myers vs. Geechi Gotti [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
You from Nutty Blocc, I’m from a nutty block, our life is different
No, I don’t gang bang but ironically my writing’s cryptic
I put in work for years, my path was paved with obstacles
If the east show y’all niggas love it’s because I made it possible
The fade is logical, but I’d rather put this blade inside of you
If I’m showin’ favoritism it’ll send yo u to your favorite hospital
I know you been shot before, the bullets still in you
Them niggas play wit’ yo’ life, I’ll talk to yo’ bullets like, “Aye, y’all gettin’ new neighbors tonight.”
This stainless steel will point at your brain and peel
Fuck yo’ last battle you’ll be in front of a saint (Saynt) for real
I don’t gang bang, just thought I’d remind him nigga
The only Nutty Blocc I know is a condom nigga
But fuck these bars, this might seem crazy at first
But I was touched, when I met this old lady at church
She was 63, her grandson was 2, I wasn’t even tryin’ to bother somethin’
She held him up to me and said, “The street life took his father from him
He was killed in a drive-by and ever since lil’ man been cryin’ at night
He just got off work and was on his way to buyin’ a bike.”
See the murder was never solved but believe me, the streets be listenin’
Nobody came forward but rumors sayin’ a nigga named “Geechi” did it
See you glorify bustin’ guns, and brag about the niggas you killed
But you never spit a bar ’bout how you live with the guilt
But you rap now, you blowin’ up, I get it, you hot
But when you look in a mirror you see the faces of niggas you shot
You had a choice nigga, takin’ the other path is what he wish he did
You got initiated cause yo’ father didn’t take initiative
Listen Geech’, I’ll gun butt you til you got missin’ teeth
The shit’ll flow from under a Beanie like Chris & Neef
I’m in disbelief, I’ll hit you wit’ this left until your life is ended
But if you heard, “Vicci’s bars” then you know I gotta right (write) for bitches
I’ve been givin’ shots for years, this a look for you but you don’t see it sadly
I’m providing a way out of Compton for this bitch like Venus daddy
What do you mean exactly?
You give fans the real side of L.A. rap?
You know how much hate I took just to bring L.A. back?
Alright fuck it then, the gat under
Run up on him just to clap thunder
I’m like, ‘Yo Gotti!’
He turn around I give bucks to the Blac Youngsta
Bar God!
This is a gang angle versus a gang of angles, the thang will bang you
You’ll be wit’ a gang of angels, I’ll maim and tame you
Orangutan you, the flame will stain you
A big rope go over ya neck, I’ll Dana Dane you
I’m not playin’, the Glock’s sprayin’ til you stop standin’
They told me to get Gotti and Gotti got got, god damn it
Knife in ya neck, watch you leak, what a beautiful death
Drained all your red blood cells so you can stay true to your set
I am truly the best and I run the west, fuck what you heard or think
Y’all thought it was cool to associate Gotti with this Murder Inc (ink)
I’ll Black Child these bars was founded by vengeance
But you’ll remember this scheme when you get surrounded by Henchmen
Do you believe in a parallel universe? I do
There is a gateway
As a child I didn’t see three plates a day but my daddy was from Eight Trey (tray)
And I’ll fuck yo’ bitch!
Nah, nah, e’rybody say that in they battle
But she did give me a hand job and gave you dap after yo’ battle
Yo’ big homies knew you was gonna lose
They just happy that they nephew good
As long as you came and repped yo’ hood and spit the best you could
RNB, why ain’t you matchin’ with Marcosis?
I done left this nigga in silence
Oh, y’all didn’t set that up cause you knew it would Triggah the violence
I’m the best ever, but on some real shit, as good as I’m cookin’
I could never take the coast where Young B would’ve took it
But you the man now, cause New York be tryin’ to play me
Because I’m not an Eastsider, most of them niggas wanna betray D (Tray Dee)
Say Geech’, I seen ya Documentary, you did ya G Thang
But when niggas gon’ be on Scared Straight they end up on Street Gangs
I let the piece bang, while my nigga’s stabbin’ him crazy
It’s gon’ be uglier than me and E. Hart havin’ a baby
None of these rappers can phase me
I’m a superior being I can’t be hurt by these weak punches and inferior schemes
You spit crack, but so what? Cause I’m weary of fiends
I’ve been twistin’ tops since my Inception this is clearly a dream
Fuck you mean? You on the ground wit’ this shit
Thank the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit

[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
Nigga you’se a bitch! Let’s get straight to the truth, pistol whip him
Butt comin’ out of his mouth like he finna make an excuse
Aye this my shot, so you know I’m finna take it close range
Big pistol, but I’ma just use the mini and rip a ton from his brain
Put his thoughts in the street, I doubt he ever wanna go back memory lane
The semi will bang but the 12 gauge will aim it at his chest and dump
They hit his lungs, bet they open up
In other words, the shotty finna bust pipes, it’s a pressure pump
Y’all pumped him up, sayin’ he the best on the west, a so called “top guy”
I’m finna show y’all this body easy to catch, it’s like a pop fly
See I don’t even know why we here, this match up kinda odd
But I get it, since I killed the saint (Saynt) I gotta talk to God
Do y’all think cuz a killer? I’m thinkin’, “Fuck this nigga. It’s war time.”
I ain’t tryin’ to settle shit, buck fifty, give him a smooth cut like Brian editin’
Who he better than? Nigga you not nothin’
Man I bet he never shot nothin’, fuckin’ wit’ me?
He’ll get a round under the chin like he’s shot puttin’
I’m not frontin’, I’m so sincere
I’m from the belly of the beast so you can try to kick knowledge all you want
Spittin’ that “Why” shit and end up smoke, I’m La Kid in that restaurant
You? One of them old niggas we slap up
Like, “Shut the fuck up Danny”, I’ll start an argument with Vicci just to fuck up Danny
Myers, you not a killer, you can stop the act
I’m really poppin’ straps just cause you from L.A. doesn’t mean you can Dodge a (Dodger) cap
Roger that?
If I pull up wit’ the pistol I’m slumpin’ this old guy
I broke up with a cougar, I’m dumpin’ the fo’ five
No lie, you got a lot of bars but when he rap I don’t really feel his shit
Maybe cause you like to take nigga’s girls
See they ain’t catch that, that just mean you still (steal) a bitch
It ain’t nothin’ I’m tryin’ to learn from a vet
I’m tryin’ to kill everything they like about you and cremate it on the set
That’s the only way I wanna earn (urn) your respect
Respect the shooter nigga, like the Smack intro
Copy that? 10-4
Just know, it’s ratchets in the buildin’ like the rent low
You? A damn bozo, the .40 gon’ blow though
I’ll put caps cross his skull like that AngryFan logo
Yo bro, I’m from Compton for real
Let me give you a rundown
Yeah, it’s gang bangin’ and murder, it ain’t no fun town
My patna stopped bangin’, said he livin’ for his son now
May he rest in peace, cause the moment he decided to put his gun up he got gunned down
See that’s the reason I stay burnered up, just for that reason
Cause where I’m from? I done seen death claim mo’ kids life than bitches durin’ tax season
The MAC squeein’, I kill for a hobby, I’m used to it
I don’t even talk ’bout the bodies we stitch lips, no cooperation for a homi
My shooters know, it’s “shh” befo’ the murder like Bobby nigga
That’s Bobby Shmurda, yeah
I grip the hammer like Thor hands, real Compton baby
My first lick I robbed Corn Man
Straight up I grew up playin’ wit’ metal toys, not Mattel
I’m talkin’ Glocks with shells
The first nigga to introduce me to clips (Clipse) was not Pharrell
Hell nah, I grew up around nothin’ but shootouts, shit every night I can hear the pops still
It’s like I was 12 years old in a G ride, nigga that was my Hot Wheels
Nigga, what struggle you know? What block you ever had to bang on?
When I left the house every night my mama thought I was dead ’til I came home
I’m from home of the head busta, the nine clappers
I got sharp shooters, niggas known to watch for the run like line backers
This back to back, this just another kill
Matter of fact I’ll raise the Smith, call me Uncle Phil
Nah, don’t gas that, it’s finna get very bad
The Eagle on me, watch me raise the Bird like Larry dad
I swear he trash, talkin’ ’bout you the figure of Figaroa
Nigga what’s that all about?
Either you bang or you not, cause where I’m from you will get shot tryin’ to make a nigga figure it out
And we spotted you writin’ for ya girl too
See who y’all thought was foolin’
G, I kill ya bitch, so next thing you write for Vicci will be a eulogy
The tool will speak, I ain’t sayin’ a thang
Head shot or in front of you, she gon’ lie in ya face like after sex like when she say that she came
I came trippin’, all cause you called yourself the Bar God
And y’all believe that garb’
A street nigga fightin’ murders, the only time we tryin’ to find God behind bars
I been shot before, you right, my body beyond scarred
I done seen mo’ casualties than a fuckin’ Gulf War
Helicopter up, sirens, nigga hated hearin’ them sounds like nails on a chalk board
But I’m used to it and I can tell you don’t live that
You look like the type we’ll get ransom money for if we kidnap
So man up, or get bitch slapped
Ya girl witchu? Get ya bitch slapped, ain’t nobody colder
Head shot, watch them liquids explode out his top like I shook a soda
So to be clear, I had my first shootout as a teen
No stoppin’, we just keep movin’
Homie told me the same shit a reporter might tell a camera man
(What’s that?)
No matter what you just keep shootin’
I shoot for the brain, I’m tryin’ to see brain fragments
You lookin’ at a nigga that don’t answer the do’ without his steel and all my niggas got that same habit
Yeah we rock the gun like an outfit but it ain’t fashion
We just got stuck with the metal so long we became magnets
You? Prolly couldn’t make it in our soil
My last kill had me talkin’ to God like, “Shit I prolly need a raise, I can’t keep doin’ ya job for you.”
When it come to the games, I ain’t finna play
The semi I’m finna spray, code word Inside The N.B.A
(What the fuck does that mean?)
See they don’t even catch that
When it come to the bars and the credit, y’all don’t give me enough
That just mean when he done with the games he gettin’ three ball heads: Shaq, Kenny and Chuck
The semi is tucked, ain’t no checkin’ Gotti
Head shot his bitch in his arms
Yeah I killed her but we all seen you catch the body
Bodies on this Nina nigga, this bitch a thot
Knock a nigga down for nothin’, this bitch a cop
You from Writer’s Bloque? I’m from Nutty Blocc
After I kill Danny I’ma come out and wipe the rest of you marks out like I missed a spot
Fuck battle rap, cause in the streets I get dumb respect
I only go over my rounds when my gun connect
I done seen a nigga get chased down and shot right in front of his step
That moment I realized you can’t run from death
And when it’s real, niggas can tell, you can see it in ya eyes
So good head, you lucky niggas didn’t believe them lies

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