Tay Roc vs. Chess [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Chess]
Almighty! We still cakin’ the fuck up!
When this round through, mehn Tay gettin’ fucked up
The fuck’s up?
Chess is home, once again y’all finna get the best of NOME
Skin complexion on the Create A Player, it’s time to set the tone
Roc, I’m so ready now
My revolver is mean, I stuff shells, like quarters in the washing machine
They don’t even peep how I load metal rounds
Settle down
Or the piece that I got will have pieces of Roc on his fellas now
I Will Smith him, and have his body parts on other people like Seven Pounds
BLAOW, when I shot the god, the kickback caught me by surprise, I gotta aim steady now
I threw up the first, but y’all know I’m great for the second round
Catch him doly, cause I don’t want nobody else to witness
Silencer, boy I stuck my nose in it like somebody else’s business
What made you think you could fuck with Chess?
I’m known to put someone in check
You better come correct
I won’t hesitate to handle Roc(k), like I’m better with my stutter step
I’ma gonna catch a body when I dump the TEC
I mean literally, catch A body when I dump the TEC
I start from the top of his head to his fuckin’ neck
Then shoot his fuckin’ chest, his stomach next
Then hit Roc(k) bottom, he got nothin’ left
His dome splatter, bullet proof, won’t matter when it can’t save you from ya death
Cans bust, Stone Cold, his whole skull on his fuckin’ vest
Glocks will spray and I can show you how that rifle play
He said I’m not good on his block
That’s cool, my shot good from a block away
Honest Tay, you are average, I am great
I mean, Roc got his own sauce but he don’t rhyme this way
And I’m feelin’ like ‘Pac today
Pay attention, there’s a difference in the Juice I got, nigga concentrate
A classic ain’t what I’m tryin’ to make
I don’t care how they rate bodies, I’m here to increase the body rate
Or I can get wifey to give a long range shot to Tay
You got me bae?
Lose your stacks and Drugz, soon as my Queens shoot from far Roc away (Rockaway)
Nah! (x16)
I got the K on Roc like I’m spellin’ it the proper way
Speakin’ of K, who the fuck said Shine was safe?
I take blood money then pop the tre
His skull on the barrel, for that green, slime’ll get heated up like toxic waste
He’s gon’ try to convince y’all that my lines is fake
And that’s cool, y’all can try to hate
I told SMACK I use a bottle to make a bowl, he felt for me, that’s how I got this plate
SMACK, fuck these old shitty niggas, it’s our time
Roc, you better off lettin’ your younger stars shine
I mean Ave the most dangerous nigga in y’all squad
Even standin’ next to Brizz made you look average bar wise
Cause everything was light until you partnered with darkside
I’m not a Dot, but in a row I got mob ties
If y’all gas him, I’ll give him the kid, not the car kind
Your fat ass hype man, better not even react to a hard line
Cause these bullets go in and out of skinny niggas and the large kind
Through think and thin, that’s why it stay with me through the hard times
Them hard times made a youngin’ feel like he in Hell yo, had to survive
Ain’t want mama to see me in jail though
They bust every heavy drug open, lil’ nigga had the bud flowin’
I didn’t need to sell coke, see I didn’t have (half) sell white, Reepah Rell flow
But leave (leaf) it to me to line him up; Adidas Shelltoe
This nigga’s pussy and he’s a frail hoe
Talkin’ like he’s gonna creep up wit’ his heater, hell no
We ain’t seen Roc put an arm on Chess (chest) since the People’s Elbow
He got gun bars, nigga my gun’s real
I wanna pick a fight witchu, just to dump steel
Build up a wall, try to cross this line, bet I’ll do you worse than Trump will
Two nines out of the pants go BLAOW
This gun done, I’ma let this other can’ go (Kangol) wild
One stopped blackin’, the other went crazy; Raven Symone/Orlando Brown
He done son, drag him out, dump guns, clap his scalp
Open up Roc(k) wit’ a dum dum; Patrick’s house
The fuck is he mad about? Cause I’m touchin’ on him?
Extended clip, to his top, I’m gonna bust it on him
Monkey bars, that ladder over his head if I come across him
See I hate when they don’t catch lines
Y’all just gon’ view an arm goin’ over Roc like I’m quotin’ one of Ave’s lines
Who thought I lost to Mr. Straight Like That?….that’s fine
Y’all know what else straight like that? His flatline
T slippin’, he ain’t nothin’ but another Cave victim
Just the truth, respect ya youth, fuck the age difference
I finished him with crazy bars, that’s good riddance from great writtens
Body after body after body, I’m shape-shiftin’
Cake Lyfe

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
This is not what you wanted
You be throwin’ up a lot in the public
You heard you was battlin’ Sir Roc’ (Siroc) and it got in ya stomach
I cock it and dump it at the top of his nugget
Leave an entry wound the size of golf ball, exit wound the size of a trumpet
Look like I’m huntin’ elephant, you see Roc wit’ a musket
I clean ya whole house when I grab a mop and I buck it (bucket)
Gloves on, like a housemaid standin’ wit’ the broom
But when I start sweepin’ all you see is dust pannin’ through the room
Aye nah, ain’t no handlin’ a goon
Wrong move and this kid gets it
I pull up on Chess (chest), pole under the chin, there’s a big difference, sick wit’ it
In this ring, I’m a psycho, Sid Vicious
For thinkin’ this Kid Rock, he’ll get hit wit’ a Limp Bizkit (biscuit)
For quick digits, I grip click
You’ll see a can’ shootin’
Sign language how you end up read (red) of the hand movment
Your battle with T-Top, showed me you was a damn student
That Carolina boy got one line on Chess (chest) like Cam Newton
Ya plan ruined
Respect I had for him, left at the last NOME
When I clap chrome, caps blown, bald heads, SMACK domes
Lil’ nigga, act grown before I break a half zone of ya backbone
You lost to DNA, and I got DNA on my hammer like Taxstone
Watch what you say or get ya shit wired like tapped phones
Y’all gon’ see him undercover like he ain’t got his badge shown
I’m back home, and lately my aim bad
Now I’m focused on puttin’ a pin on Chess (chest) like a name tag
The thing blast, straight through his head, that’s how I do a kid
Clip in the end before I smoke him, this a Cuban cig’ (SIG)
At the top of the buildin’ with the grip on me
Bangin’ on Chess (chest), King Kong ain’t got shit on me
Aye, ya’ll gon’ think it’s Jordan shoes that I’m coppin’ out the stores
Cause I wear the nines, but I be poppin’ out with fours
This bitch ring off and take everything from him, it know a lot about divorce
If I reach for the tool chest (Chess), the ratchet slidin’ out the drawers
That’s light
You ran into the ditch digger, the wig splitter
Get clapped up in ya face then wrapped up in The Basement; Big Tigger
Mad targets, I pull out these choppers then get witcha
Bad artist, when I draw all you see is a stick figure, bitch nigga
Get pistol whipped in a coma that’s temporary
The black .40 assisted with the glove, this Kemp and Gary
This shit is scary
They told me, “Kill Chess. Yes, get him buried.”
I’ll truck through this lil’ kid, that’s the beginning of Pet Sematary
Aye, this chopper, look like some shit from the military
So when I scream (ice cream) “buck it” (bucket) they scoop you, that’s Ben & Jerry
You fucked, Nina, hit you from the front, that’s missionary
I’ll make his blood pour on stage and get him carried (Carrie’d)
That’s light
I show Chess how the hammer feel
I was on NOME 1, you was on watchin’ me on YouTube in ya pajamas still
This an SK, I’ll let this banana peel
Don’t make me put this S on Chess (chest) like the Man Of Steel
You silly nigga, better duck on the semi hit ya
I’ll have the docs tryin’ to save money like penny pinchers
The joint precious but this won’t be a pretty picture
When I squeeze on Chess (chest) I ain’t givin’ a titty twister
I’m really sicker
Why bar with you? Get scar tissue
When I let this blade poke out Chess (chest) like hard nipples
Have God witchu
I really hope you totin’ ya weapon
I’ll leave Chess (chest) top open like inappropriate dressin’
I know he was stressin’
And me? I ain’t really concerned
I battled the best, there’s nothin’ from him I really can learn
My bro Ave, beat ya ass, I had to get me a turn
I use two hands on an arm, that’s an Indian burn
Light bars
Gang shit man

[Round 2: Chess]
You told Surf, “He’ll lose DNA from what you throwin’ up. That’s a Chess round.”
That’s mean
Cause I be fuckin’ up and the crowd be feelin’ let down, and that’s a sad thing
Well this round gon’ sound mad clean
Like literally, mad clean
Translation: I’ma play the Bishop role, you can have King
I don’t care if you witcha bitch, I can make a bad scene
Grab weave then pull her down the block, that’s drag queen
Now nigga you been gettin’ killed by Chess since that scheme
Does that mean it’s ya night to die? Maybe
Ya wife gon’ miss you, but I won’t, my sniper eye crazy
I can hit him from a tree top tell Roc(k) “goodbye baby.”
Whoever talkin’ foul can die, I always came back when it got crazy
I was Super bold (Bowl), lettin’ that fif’ ring in the field, I’m Tom Brady
Who came to see Roc play me?
That ain’t so smart
SMACK you want this battle to finish? Tell him to don’t start
Or his shit open up on stage like when the show start
I stick with steel, pointin’ (point in) around (a round) like when you throw darts
The birds sing, it ain’t an old Lark’
You a middle man, I wait til you runnin’ ya block, then run in his block to control parts
Soon as he think he got it stamped, I’ll be where you post, mark
Y’all praise him like he pop Berettas and really won’t spark
He can be that old guy with several transplants
I still wouldn’t think Roc a fella (Rocafella) with the most heart
Drive by if we go spark, guns out the wagons for geeks
Aim from the car, clap from the passenger seat
Day at the spa, lay Roc(k) on his back wit’ the heat
If it’s actually beef, I’m wit’ the shits
Nigga stay aware, no diss records, I’m gonna address him on track like racin’ gear
Delivery boy, I’m at your door if we take it there
.380 near cause most of these niggas fake, that’s why I stay prepared
Mike Wazowski starin’ at his bitch, for one I (eye) see the snakes in here
Go ‘head, say somethin’ slick cause my lady near
I let the TEC’s blam, I ain’t wit’ all the disrespect man
I catch you writin’ ’bout my girl, in my eyes you a dead man
It sound dope, but that shit you wrote in that book you gon’ regret fam’
See this is where Tay Diggs his own grave for tryin’ to be the Best Man
Y’all came here thinkin’ Chess play, til you see Ray with a K clip and I ain’t leakin’ sex tapes
When you see the lead spray, I’ma hit ya spine sir (sponsor)
Then let it kick in ya mouth, now you a sneaker head Tay
Or a pair will leave his face on his shirt like sneaker head Tay
I’m creepin’ my way to the top dawg
I guess gettin’ you knocked off will help me sneak ahead Tay
That’s why he gettin’ more bars than the time my dad served
Don’t bother my brother Tai, or get on my guy last nerve
Cause my guy blast nerds, he don’t even scratch it off
Serial numbers on the gun look like a wi-fi password
I’ma finish this nigga, and it isn’t the liquor when I lick shots into his liver
Give it to him without a cause like a generous nigga
(Then what?)
Then take backs like an Indian giver
I go to B-More, it’ll be more lit for this nigga
You can get dropped in ya hood like Zimmerman hit ya
Dig a ditch for this nigga, he gon’ lay there stiff/alone
Stanley Yelnats, y’all gon’ find this Cave man in a Hole, whoa
Who gon’ save ya? When I creep in ya home and put you in more danger
He scream, “Leave me alone.”
I tell him, “No more favors.”
Four flamers, but they don’t get the whole meal
What’s ever leftover I give to next door; poor neighbors
Ya homie gettin’ sliced if he got swap, I brought razors
Roll up at the [?] spot, buck fifty for rollin’ paper
What you finna do nigga?
I fuck wit’ Roc, but he caught me when I was in a mood nigga
See I get physical even if it’s a cool nigga
“Flavor” (flavour) “color” (colour), British words in America, how I get rid of you (U) nigga
Nigga you, made a big mistake
Cause it was planned for you to die behind bars, who thinks he can escape?
Well that’s really great
Cause I drew the blueprint on his body, I’m Michael Scofield in Prison Break
Who’s shovin’ Chess off a table today?
Razor to Tay, watch me shave Roc(k) off this dinner plate
Cake Lyfe

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
I know times get hard, but what’s stuck in my mind, is you cut a bottle to make a bowl
Why not use the biggest cup you could find?
That’s why this ass whoppin’ is outta my control
How is it this kid got money for weed but can’t buy a bowl?
SMACK, what are you payin’ him?
You ain’t gave him the loot before?
You got him out here tryin’ to convince niggas that he was super poor
I’m the type to shoot the five wit’ you and then shoot the four
Mask up, then start flippin’ out, that’s a Luchador
You body me? I might doubt it
I strike ’bout it, this struggle shit I write ’bout it, my life ’bout it
You ever been backed in a corner and had to fight out it?
You ever had to break a bottle and make a knife out it?


[Tay Roc]
I doubt it!
[Chess] Facts!
[Tay Roc] I doubt it!
[Chess] Facts!
[Tay Roc] I doubt it!
[Chess] Facts!
[Tay Roc] I doubt it!
[Chess] Facts!
[Tay Roc] I’m different. I doubt it! Look at him. Look at him. Talkin’ while I’m rappin’

{Smack gets in the middle and separates them}

[Tay Roc]
You ever had to break a bottle and make a knife out it?
I doubt it
It ain’t nothin’ you ain’t ever did for real
You got two liter bowls and ain’t got nothin’ in the fridge for real
I don’t give a fuck if you’ve been strugglin’ to live for real
I’ll tie somethin’ ’round your neck and have you strugglin’ to live for real
Believe it’s insane, them heaters will bang
Chef Trez, off top I hit him with three of them thangs
Respect life or get bodied, that’s an even exchange
I remove the icing off a Cake, that mean I’m keepin’ ya chain
You can’t handle that old Roc that was a teenager
I put ya face in front of a MAC, that’s a screensaver
Strapped with a green laser
He thought he was safe at his mom crib, I caught him slippin’ on a porch like a dream chaser
Play, and get a hammer in ya face
I have him wearin’ Rest In Peace shirts and lightin’ candles for the Cake
And it ain’t even my birthday, wait
My birthday in 20 days, that’s why I took him for some early birthday Cake
I dominate, I’m an ape
I blackout and fire eight, I almost took SMACK White Out, my mistake
You try and skate, I get close range shank
I have ya throat hangin’ under ya grill, that’s a propane tank
I know they ain’t fuckin’ wit’ me, my presence is felt
If you don’t book you’ll lie buried (library) with ya head on the shelf
I made this blade, to better myself
It’s somethin’ like an icicle, I stab you wit’ it and the evidence melt
I don’t care if you had to make bowls out of a two liter
Or if ya mom had to sell pussy to get ya new sneakers
If you don’t give me two meters, I be too eager
To let these collaborate wit’ ya face and knock out a few features
I run down on his bitch with a new heater
Stomach shot, her eggs die (dye), I can’t wait until Easter
I grab a TEC, if I’m that upset, you better have a vest
Cause if this second hand smoke it’s bad for Chess (chest)
I ain’t nothin’ like none of them cats duckin’
That’s bluffin’, questionin’ me, gon’ make me ax (ask) somethin’
Nigga you will get hit wit’ a deuce, when the strap dumpin’
He fall, I re-deuce (reduce) him, I’m tryin’ to subtract somethin’
Gun Bar King, the Heckler bustin’, I wet up somethin’
You wanna ride in my lane? Follow the set instructions
I’m never frontin’, this will give you the best concussion
After this, Chess (chest) won’t be the same, that’s a breast reduction
That’s LIGHT!
These choppers? Come with a stand when I’m blammin’ ’em
So many bullet holes the doctors gotta stand and examine him
I’ll handle him
These hammers will damage him
I’ll find a hole in the ground and plant Chess (chest) in the ground like Pamela Anderson
That’s light, he thought I was gonna play wit’ him
Is he jokin’? Fuck wit’ Roc get hit with the piece (peace) of the hip he (hippie) smokin’
Code word: Designer clothes, I’m semi holdin’
And aimin’ at the eyes on Chess (chest) that’s Fendi clothin’
I tried to tell him that this ain’t what he want from me
Battle rap is not a job this shit is fun to me
Fuck a scheme, angle, punch, it’s ’bout a gun to me
A gun…

[Round 3: Chess]
Yo, he claim he the Gun Bar King, when I’m the nigga that really let it off
Stunt double, when it comes to them clips
I do the things he gettin’ credit for
Y’all only write it in a metaphor
These grown ass men be tellin’ lies
My name in the mix with these chumps, y’all would never find
Cause I really get respect for mine
Check my background, boy I’m solid as a Ro- nevermind
There’s no way he puttin’ Chess in line
I’m not the one you sonnin’ scrap
Troy I’ll palm the shit out ya man’s face, I ain’t wit’ none of that
You SMACK gunner, don’t become the nigga I’m gonna smack
Try me Aak, mine will pop
Ya Silver Surfer vs Tsunami was kinda hot
But I’ll leave this bitch Invisible, stretch niggas and fire tops
I keep a Fantastic 4, this Thing will body Roc(k)
BAOW! I spray you
BAOW! BAOW! I give Tay two, then it’s the Dudley Boyz
Then three of these crashing through Tay boo (table)
Spray who? Nigga you ain’t got no burner
If you do, finish ya job cause if y’all don’t murder
Them shots increase the beef like a Mondo Burger
So get focused, cause these hands is explosive
Left/right, get clapped back and forth like hypnosis
Dope shit, I’m gritty wit’ it
You better listen bitch or turn your back til a semi hit it, chip his disc
Like Michael Black kid gettin’ jiggy wit’ it, slit his shit, now he Michael Jackson in the Thriller gimmick
Shit is vicious, take a scalpel and pull scalps, make a quick incission
Get tied up, I didn’t draw but this still was a split decision
If I punch a nigga in his mouth while a nigga spittin’, somethin’ break in-between battles; intermission
You was health walkin’ in this mission?
Til I pop a fresh round in his mouth, now let’s see who leaves in mint condition
Get picked for your ice next
Ya neck will get an ice pick up in it
If I back out, I really hit him
He assed out, when this Calicoe gettin’ pulled (pooled) and I ain’t skinny dippin’
This my house now
Lil’ nigga, you get to bitchin’ and get to whippin’
Don’t even touch nothin’ in the kitchen
If you want somethin’ out my fridge you better get permission
And use manners bastard
And stand there and wait until you get an answer after
Or I’ll spit on my back hand and smack ya
Nah, my man will smack ya
But that yappin’ bitch? Just for me
And the shit I brought here (hair) will ‘lax her
When I’m done layin’ her flat, tre on his cap; Chance The Rapper
You can jig him with the rusty shit [?] will stab ya
You can get the old kitchen knife or the fancy dagger
Either way they kill him, poke him to the floor
I ain’t even pull it out, shit he just may lay there with a melee in him
Fox News; “Reporting live about a Cave Gang victim
With 11 stab wounds and his brains ain’t in him
People haven’t found anyone to say they witness.”
His mother crying cau-cause, cryin-cry-crying cause her bae bae baby missin’
She don’t know what to do
She grabbin’ on cops like, “You better pray they get him
So you mean- this shit isn’t right
You mean to tell me this killer livin’ his life and my lil’ Tay Tay isn’t?
When will justice be served? What ever happened to true law?”
“I’m sorry ma’am we’re doing everything we can.”
“Well do more!”
Fuck that, y’all get the picture
I got a question for you dawg
Why the fuck you battle K-Shine and joined his crew dawg?
Why you battled Surf, then y’all teamed up?
Why you battled Brizz then put him down?
Why Brizz and T-Top joined opposite squads that’s rivals instead of just makin’ a team up?
See that’s somethin’ I think I never will get
But it’s struggle this, struggle that
Well you need to feel this
As your pops you real shit
Stop bein’ dick riders and switch siders
Connect the two teams just to make a new team to kill shit
Play ya cards right, and always watch who you deal wit’
Cause they ungrateful, you can get killed by a nigga you kill wit’
Know who you eatin’ meals wit’, tryin’ to see a mil’ wit
Cause them same niggas you givin’ ’em chips, will dip
Shit, I done went half and half wit’ niggas that still split
That’s real shit
But some of my niggas left cause of death, it wasn’t they decsion
And I ain’t forget him
I couldn’t tell if they was safe or not, shit I’m just tryin’ to touch bases wit’ ’em
Tay say he grippin’, but are you blastin’ cause of beef or do you spray for chicken?
As a youngin’ I learned it made a difference
Between shootin’ for ya life and shootin’ just to make a livin’
So let me hear you talk somethin’
Thought so, they all frontin’
Mini clip, I load the round like a Snapchat record button
Show up to his crib, about 4:00 somethin’
Wit’ a Tommy nigga, unlimited round
SMACK you better time me nigga
Nah, I’ll put him in a coma, he woke up but ain’t remember how to move his body nigga
Now he in rehab, learnin’ how to walk again
Lookin’ like Mr. Wavy with the zombie nigga
Cake Lyfe, Cave Gang, we almighty nigga

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
I was thinkin’, this round, should I angle, scheme or punch the nigga?
Or catch him on an angle…scheme, then punch the nigga
I’m mad at you, this pound will hashtag you
You better pray longer than that hoodie Red had on in the Ave battle nigga
Aye, don’t talk about how you be clappin’ chrome
The battle on BET, UFF, you needed a chaperone
When I was 16, I told my mom, leave her ass at home
Cause any second a battle rap could turn into a battle zone
The good die young, cause of their innocence
You say you on some grown shit but you use that young nigga shit to your benefit
I’ll get him hit, send the Pits, feed him to the dogs, they gon’ take out ya ligaments in increments
I say what I want and just laugh when niggas get mad
Like I could put a kid in ya mom and be ya stepdad
No, really
I could’ve put dick in ya mother box, and made you a crack baby
What’s that? The son of Roc(k)
My gun’ll pop, in a grave, you’ll be headed there fast
Caskets ain’t got the same mattress that every bed has
My block? You would never dare pass
.38 and it hold dum dums, this a special ed class
Aye they ain’t tell you my style type gutter?
Give you a buck 50, now you and Steams can smile like brothers
My pal might cut ya, I’m a wild type fucker
Extended clip, danglin’ out the Cal (cow) like udders
As far as the streets, I’m hands on like I’m readin’ braille
You about to get out barred and you don’t need a bail
I’ll leave Chess missin’, the cops gon’ need a trail
Shit they found his eye ball in (eyeballing) a Zip, he don’t need a scale
I’m never off it, they think that this cat slackin’?
Well I’m Lex Luthor, torture rack and I’m back snappin’
I’ll back smack him, front til the gat clap him
When you see my Migos wit’ a Lil’ Uzi they ain’t trap rappin’
This bitch Bad And Boujee, can’t wait to use this K
Stock cap, I cock that, I run up and give you toolie play
Catch Chess in front of his bitch, do ’em a gruesome way
Have his bitch holdin’ up Chess (chest) that’s a bustier
Stop now, before I let a shot blaow
Or blllll, rapid fire will change how this Glock sound
Keep a toaster on me, for the bread you’ll get shot down
Meaning even if he beg he’ll (bagel) bite on a hot round
And after you, your bae will bite on a hot round
No games played, your mother and Steams is the same age
They rode the school bus together, they was in the same grade
I hope I got you mad, I ain’t come to play with cuz
I came to get under Chess’ (chest) skin, that’s Vicks Vapor Rub
Perfect demeanor, I purposefully beat ya, get hurt wit’ a cleaver
Choppin’ through his sternum and femur
Love & Hip Hop, you’ll get murked with a heater
This ratchet on my side will break up his family, ask Kurt and Rashida
I’ve been back in, you thought you was gon’ get that win
Too bad that I’ve been in that gym
Let your campaign talk, I’ma hit that chin
Your teeth pop out like a champagne cork and won’t fit back in
Make me dumb out, that’s when the beast come out
I’m lookin’ for him on his block and everywhere that he hung out
I’m in his project elevator, hoping that this geek come out
Soon as Chess bored (board) that .32 piece come out
Nigga you gon’ beat me?
(Still niggas lyin’
Tell him like I told the others, I don’t feel niggas rhymes
Who you foolin’ with them steel grippin’ lines?
Tell him, fuckin’ with me he’ll get smacked, we on real nigga time)

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