Hollow Da Don vs. Tay Roc [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
They said I can’t gun bar him to death, what is that shit ’bout?
Smack, Joe Jackson: makin’ me put this hit out
Wait… this gonna take a minute to get out
It went from concentration to constipation
I been sittin’ on this round waitin’ to get this shit out
Ay, but y’all keep callin’ him the GOAT
You about to get your feelings hurt spittin’
I carry (curry) these to whatever crib he in (Caribbean) and take this jerk chicken
Like, “Where that coco? Bread?”
I box well, you don’t know Roc well
I put the whole blade in him, then start twistin’ the oxtail
The real is back
This the perfect place to get you at
I have a nigga that love New York hit you with a midget MAC
When you face the fifth it ain’t a bottle of liquor
You will get clapped, the pistol whip
Think you some type of guerrilla (gorilla) ’til you hit with the silverback
Faggot! Y’all keep talkin’ about he hot, so what?
This your funeral, I hope everybody on your block show up
If Roc show up, no cops show up, Glocks show up
Ariana Grande shit, I hit a man chest or (Manchester) the spot blow up
You not so tough, nigga! I grip heat, aimin’ and I’ma clap
Like a taco stuff, you see meat hangin’ out the back
Fuck them angles that you use
If I don’t understand Hollow’s point
I whip out on Hollow, point and give him a hollow-point
Light bars!
You look like you came to cop blow
I will aim the Glock low, let it bang and drop bro
Y’all can praise him but the Tay will stop ‘Lo
After I kill him y’all watch this King Tower: that’s Jamie Foxx Show
Once they paid me my dough, this problem was all yours
Black mask, I’m flashin’ sticks: that’s Star Wars
Sawed off, try to run, I’m all for it
I’ll chase you with it, runnin’ with the Thunder, I’m Paul George
I’ll be damned if they caught me, if you plannin’ to rob me
I hit you with one K, that’s a band what it cost me
You tryin’ to wrestle? Tell this man to get off me
I had my bitch point with the long nose: that’s Diana Taurasi
Am I wild? Yes, this gon’ turn into a foul mess
Buck fifty from cheek to cheek, you’ll get your smile stretched
Hollow try me, this guy die next
Cowboy revolver, I will Smith him with a wild, wild Wess’
Ay, I can take that same bar, redo it better
I’m evil and clever, y’all try to put these pieces together
Strapped with an Eagle and Heckler
Now I’m Will Smith in Wild Wild West
Actin’ out with a big machine and (in) a Desert
Who is this man tryin’ to play with?
Potato on the barrel, banana for the K clip
I can trey-eight shit, the snub better
But in the closet I got a D.E. and A.R. at the top like a love letter
That’s light!
I’m the type to answer you before I know your question
And send your soul to Heaven
This shit gon’ get so upsettin’
All that jokin’ is yo’ profession
I’ll put an apple in your mouth then hang you over a fire: that’s a roasting session
My nigga, we not the same
I wouldn’t be me if every other bar these niggas didn’t hear a chopper bang
Like play with me and get murked, fucker
I got somethin’ ugly for him and it kick off the shot like Dirk jumper
Boy, I will show up to your funeral with a straight face
Buck fifty you while you in the casket, then say grace
I will pop the tre eight, you’ll get caught with the pound
Think Bill Cosby’s rape case, this shit will lift a star off the ground
But real shit, if shit go further than fuckin’ rap
Snuff this cat, open up the trunk, you get stuffed in that
A couple clap, won’t hear right when I buck the gat
I keep squeezin’ till somethin’ fly in his ear like, “What the fuck is that!?”


[Round 1: Hollow Da Don]
I said I came to this spot to cook you, watch dawg get it
Did I spill something? That means I’ma wipe the floor wit ’em
Nigga, we gon’ set some rules
Even though these rounds turn into cream like Dippin’ Dots
I’m a hustler, I woulda did this for free, I love whippin’ Roc
So let us know if it’s beef and stuff
Come for the Don, Tay (Daunte)
Then cold peppers (Culpepper) will heat him up
I’ll be in his projects wavin’ at the bench like I need a sub
I’ll have him spillin’ his guts out everywhere like—
You act tough in blogs but when I see you, you change instantly
Take the fatigues off in 2K: I want to see the same energy!
I’m with aggression
‘Cause a real battler do everything when it’s called for
That’s why I’m Mayweather and you McGregor
‘Cause you could only beat me with an arm bar
So how dare y’all pair me with my peers and the cheers with legends? That’s a mere deception
I’ve transcended, I no longer stare (steer) in their direction
I had mirror recessions, that means I spent the year reflectin’
Battlin’ the only competition I see
Like, “Whoo {pats himself on the back} – that there’s impressive!”
A scary site, when it ain’t apparent I appear at night
So you know they had to pay for this bag, it’s like a Spirit flight
I’m in his bush with the .40 ’bout to throw him shots
I’m like, “Let’s rock and roll”, now every once in a Blue Moon they forced to Rolling Rock (roll in Roc)
Bare (Bear) with me, ’cause if there’s problems
I know where this bitch stay
I treat rap beef like DJ Akademiks, I’m posted the next day
I been to his hood, Tay don’t clap the K
Only time he throw a cap away, he was on the battle stage
But I told y’all I’ma let him—
Only time he throw a cap away, he was on the battle stage
And I’m glad y’all threw this back up
I meant to throw this shit in the crowd
I’m a little different, I think ahead
I always keep a backup just to finish my rounds
Me losing is like Smack starting a battle on time
I said, before they dropped this battle online
They’ve already brought his box to my door like Amazon Prime
They went to his door, his wife said, “Tay Roc at work.”
I said, “Th-the Gun Bar King got a job?!”
Oh shit, it’s the perfect time to play Swear To God
You nervous, right? Look at his face
He wish he could fuck me up
But when his boss tell him to do something he said, “yes sir” and he hustle up
I mean don’t come in here and act tough with us
When the only thing he ever rang up was a customer
I can see Roc with the red laser flashin’
Like, “Boop! $2.36, is that too much for ya?”
He used to taking orders
Surf said he dust Roc(k) off and kept him, he’s an archaeologist
He kept you? He kept you, my nigga
That’s how I know you write with him
‘Cause all of a sudden you got schemes
Then it was Cave Gang and you got mean
At this point, I don’t know if I’m battlin’ Tsu Roc or Roc Rawsteen
I mean you linked up with Brizz, Surf, Mook
Some of the coldest writers
I guess you don’t know what’s hot or not
So you gotta get somebody that notify ya (know da fire)
I said but I ain’t he don’t come up with his own shit
And niggas pen all his raps
I’m just sayin’ to give him the blueprint
Then leave the writing on Roc(k), these are the facts (artifacts)
So you need niggas to proof read
Well, what you gon’ need is a bulletproof V
Give two G’s to my shooter
It makes a lot (salat), it’s a cool fee (kufi)
I don’t care if they amp you in the venue
I seen you on UDubb gettin’ smoked
The detector says you ain’t goin’ off without a battery in you
But you come here and say “This is my house. This is my house.”
It is? Well, that’s right
‘Cause you need two things to run a house: gas and… that’s light
But he’ll say “a coma is what he sat her in (Saturn)”
Y’all remember that?
He’ll say, “a coma is what he sat her in (Saturn)”
My nigga, that wasn’t that hot
‘Cause if I woulda said it I woulda— I wouldn’t have said it!
Nigga did you really think that’s somethin’ I’d jot?
For me to say a line like that I gotta be dumb as a Roc(k)
Let me chill, ’cause y’all know this nigga
He always like, he about to fight, right?
But, but somehow his niggas pull him out the fight
“Let me go, let me go, let me go!”
I mean you never see Da Don wildin’, I’m usually calm/silent
I just stand by then let these hands fly: they palm pilots
Wait, wait, these the same jawns that had John John lyin’
And you frailer than him
So what make you think I won’t park your shit?
A right bring Kimbo Slice back to life
Like “Whoo! He hit him hard as shit!”
I said a body shot make your whole organ shift
He like {groans} – he don’t know if he gotta fart or shit
I’ma watch, watch, watch ’em Swatch swap
If what Roc rocks is rocks, I’ll rock Roc
This hopscotch, you hopped in your own box Roc
We can box, Roc, or I pop Roc in his mouth like Pop Rock
I said I could go for like 20 minutes right now, my nigga

[Tay Roc]
Do your thing

And you’ll automatically lose
I set some battling rules
And yeah I killed you with the Culpepper
So if you got any Daunte lines you automatically lose
LOMclothing.com, bitch!

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
I’ma rebuttal since I’m feelin’ myself
I knew you would mention Surf
But since Tsu aside (suicide) I’ma kill him myself
You a fake nigga, that’s what it seems
You came all the way to my city to do charity
Nigga what have you done for Queens?
That’s how I know you a character
When you doing genuine shit from the heart you don’t put it on camera
Why would I knock you helping the homeless?
Give the homeless some help
I hope you keep donating to the homeless until you homeless yourself
You fuckin’ idiot! You fuckin’ dummy!
You act like we out here winnin’ Grammy’s
I ain’t in a financial position to take care of nobody but my family
I got two daughters that I’m raisin’, one’s 9 and one’s 1
If I gotta raise this one 9 he gon’ call 9-1-1
You look like a rat, I know you’d get to snitchin’ ’bout a crime
‘Cause in your battle with Dizaster you was bitchin’ ’bout the time, nigga
But ay, that ain’t where the topic ends
You ain’t tell Math Dizaster was gon’ be in Boston
He coulda got revenge
If I don’t fuck with a nigga then I would not pretend
Bitch ass niggas like you why I ain’t got no friends
Be loyal to your niggas, you only had one task
You was just N.Y.B., right? Then a couple of months pass
Your punk ass was on cam’ chillin’ with the niggas that jump Math
If I was him I’d punch you right in that Luigi mustache
You wouldn’t be allowed in New York with a bus pass
Didn’t y’all have history together?
And then you cut class and said, “Fuck Math!”
If it was me in that surprise battle with Dizaster
I’da had Math waitin’ in the parking lot to catch him after
I’m not these other battle niggas, but you don’t know no different
You givin’ somebody a shot that they know won’t miss it
I thought about changin’ my style for this
They said, “No, don’t switch it!”
There’s an old saying, it goes, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”
Now me, losing to you, that ain’t how this battle go
What makes y’all think I wouldn’t take on a Hollow?
I survived a Calic—
Shit bangin’, ‘matics blow, clips hangin’, ladder’s low
Stitch wavin’ over his hat, now that’s a Magic show
Who can rock with me?
You look like a fiend, do a shot with me
You gon’ make me turn this to a scene that is not pretty
You do not get me ’til you get hit with a Glock semi
When you see Hollow inside a box it is not empty
Enough’s enough, I’m on some other stuff
I’m known for these gun rounds
But I’ll put these guns down and fuck you up
If I don’t knock you out when we knuckle up
Then the razor come out, when I swing it you get your upper cut
I grab you by your neck, you get another cut and another cut
It look like the seat belt won’t work and I’m tryin’ to buckle up
Ladder stickin’ out the window of the Tahoe
Six feet is how low I’m tryin’ to put Hollow
All face shots – blaow! – for the Dinininon
When I’m finished with him I doubt the nigga fitted fit on
I’m sick of the Don
If we ain’t gettin’ along, this shit in my palm will give you déjà vu
Of your last fight: Hollow get hit with the jawn
And the Bullpen trash!
Not John John league – the bull pen trash
Surprise him with two handles on me, it’s a gift bag
I pull this, he’ll break out on me, this a skin rash
Before you can run, you get stretched: that’s gym class
Drive-by, I’ma get him while we walkin’
Shots out the Ac’ sent (accent) it be different when I’m talkin’
Hollow get hit with a hollow if the beef pop off
It’s either the Don’ll duck (Donald Duck) or get his beak shot off
You told Surf you’ll “cap the leader (liter)”
Y’all believe in this cat?
‘Til I’m leavin’ his cap twisted so the leader (liter) is flat
When I’m squeezin’ the gat you’ll see four bald heads breakin’ shit up: that’s Norbes, Cheeko, Beasley and Smack
Believe it’s a wrap, I told 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 a gun to me
A gun, the only thing that get this job done for me
Gang shit nigga!

[Round 2: Hollow Da Don]
Y’all really cheered for him dissin’ me for helpin’ people
That’s what this nigga say?
You ain’t know my rebuttals like Tim McVeigh on Olympic day
I’m blowin’ shit away!
Nigga diss me for havin’ a good heart
I’ll show your good heart when I click and spray
‘Cause these Hollows like givin’ back in a different way
You tried to turn the crowd against me ’cause I’m legendary
He wants y’all to have it in for me
I only took this battle for the second round
Nigga I’m here to match your intensity
Two 9’s, deuce deuce, fo’ fo’, I pocket peers
I have all these bitches kickin’ until Roc get tears (Rocketeers)
After Diz, that was something I was gonna take out
Then I figured this all day delivery
Plus that’s how I got to cookin’
Soon as I saw Tay (saute) was grillin’ me
So let me get this out the way so I can get backed focused
I been the most consistent for 10 years
But dare y’all question my flow with the back stroakin’
You know how I prepare it quick
It’s still two guns when I’m airin’ it
But this time I’m gettin’ hit: it look like I’m tryin’ to steer a ship
I said large gat, knock off a fitted ball cap
Face gone, mom gotta identify him by his arm tats
That’s ’cause a quick tussle can turn to a chin scuffle
That turn into trunks and lighter fluid, watch his skin bubble
I say he was in the trunk
I was like, “I know it’s Hot In Here,” but I don’t know Nelly
But where’s the plug? For some reason he won’t tell me
I forgot to take the tape off his mouth
He like, “mmm mmm mmm” – sounded like Omelly
I’m mean!
I said I was loaded so he gettin’ booked, this clips can boom Roc
And lift him high as possible, I’m tryin’ to moon Roc
We down to Earth niggas, understand I [?] his family
And if you LOM we gon’ make sure you eat like Spanish women
If not, bust like aneurysms, reverse the mannerisms
Then precisely cut you open: that’s a planned incision
Silencer with a hair trigger, got the hammer trippin’
It’s ironic, I got a stand to sit it
Old school tobacco chewer, nigga I only hold this can for spittin’
Take his bitch, beat up the box: that’s damaged shipments
Then get her cut up for cheap nigga: that’s Planet Fitness
I’m in the pad loft with the Mask off like Stanley Ipkiss
And let it whistle before it show like Andy Griffin
You want a gun show? Well, here’s a gun show
Let’s pick the best contender
The Glock 9, that bitch ring all day like a debt collector
The Glock 18, that bitch open off top like a Pez dispenser
Ahhh, I just registered a .40, it’s a sex offender
I said all these guns got me paranoid
So I’m drawin’ first like “fuck that!”
And you? Back the fuck up, I don’t even trust Smack
I’m isolated, I’ve been buggin’, I’ve been the man alone
Fuck what your crew say, I run through Cave: Indiana Jones
He ain’t ready to go to war, he took an Ali stance
The new .8, that’ll load up quick, I got a high-speed plan
First step, handle Roc, I’m a Kyrie fan
With enough punches to make IP Man say “I’ll be damned”
Nigga I’m such in my bag I can bring back bars y’all ain’t fuck with in a minute
Like, “Nigga stop, I’m chicken pox, if you touch me you can get it.”
Y’all hated that, right?
Well, y’all ain’t know I’m futuristic and outrageous with it
I was only wishin’ that for him… can Tay just (contagious) get it?
But fuck that, I can {scratching sounds} reverse that
Like fuck bringin’ back bars from years ago
Nigga I can bring back shit from my first round
I said, “Let us know if it’s beef and stuff” then I said “Culpepper”
That was the reason he need a sub
Now if y’all was keepin’ up I said, “If you hear me right me right, I’m a ghost, a scary sight”
So you know once they pay for this bag, I made his Spirit flight
I go bonkers nigga, I’m Willy Wonka’s on ’em
I’m Rondo number 9 with the rocket launcher
I said I’m dumpin’, he runnin’, holdin’ up his pants tryin’ not to fall
Jackie Chan can’, it’ll make a nigga climb a wall
I’ma let you spit your rounds
And stop every ten seconds ’cause you ain’t got no flow
In your head you think you on a spree
Well, to us you just stop and go
Last round you said I lost to Surf and I’m not the GOAT
Well then after that I battled Lux
Tonight I rose to my feet: King Jaffe Joe

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
We coulda did this anywhere
Dubai, Dakota, Ireland, Manchester… really, bitch
I know it sound like silly shit
But since Surf ain’t here I’ma tell y’all what that really meant
If I do buy this shit this man sellin’ it better be potent
The code a be nothin’
I’ll land two shots and this man chest’ll be open
Free the wave, that ain’t even nothin’ I gotta say, son
I got a Arsonal of Shotguns that’s been loyal since day one
Ayy, I hope your dad told you the truth, that you won’t be shit
I hope your son grow up just like you: a fiend bitch
I hope your daughter grow up to smoke crack and lean sip
I hope your mom go on a car ride with Queenzflip
On some G shit, I’m not the one to beef with
I’ll put your baby on one of them things you slice the meat with
Ayy, you’ll get your mug shot, I ID him
Leg shot, bullets leavin’ his Calves: I Kyrie him
I come to dawg house with a Bulldog barkin’ on him
Y’all should warn him
Y’all should watch his mouth before I draw it on him
You don’t get it ’til this hammer in my palm is scorchin’
Know that these two .23’s ain’t LeBron and Jordan
Poppin’ shit ’til I rock your shit
I went and copped four 44’s way before Hov’ dropped the shit
I cock the shit and shoot ’til it end
I do your kid like JAY-Z kids and leave your baby Blu with the twins
You lazy, and you think shit like that is cool while a
Nigga like me is on his grizzly
I’ll barricade your block, it’ll be pandemonium through your city
I need y’all to bare with me if y’all like that
The strap from Alaska, the pole’ll bury him, where your ice at?
Y’all think shit sweet? I’ma show him how a bullet feel
Think of Twizzlers, out the bag I pull and peel
Or I can let somethin’ sharp from my hand open him
I get a blade to eat a cat, I’m Cambodian
You ain’t really URL, so you know I don’t fuck with you
You earned your stripes in Grind Time
Where you know you was comfortable
You had niggas like Arsonal, Clips, Loaded in front of you
I can show you an arsenal of clips loaded in front of you
Smack, this nigga ain’t come up with us
This nigga don’t fuck with us
You a Grind Time, King of the Dot nigga, you ain’t one of us
My left hook will wobble your shit, it’s a leg shaker
Then my right hook? A farmer’s tool, it’s a haymaker
You a weirdo, and you move all reckless
Like, how you live in Florida and rep Houston, Queens, New York, Texas? How?
But since you rep Houston I got some ill shit
Like, you gon’ have to switch your house if I come to kill shit
Steel grip, your bitch try to run, the steel spit
I hit her in the back of her Bun B, she did a Lil’ Flip
Get a Scarface, I will eat they food
And if Don Demarco lean on Hollow side then the DJ Screw’d
Ayy, I’ll hit Hollow head with these hollow-heads
Docs will be takin’ them hollow heads out of Hollow head
You forever jokin’, until on your last breath you chokin’
Your soul come out your body, the gates of Heaven open
Put the dice in his hands, he’ll never roll ’em
‘Cause he know (casino) gamblin’ with your life he need extra tokens
If I black jack, the weapon’s smokin’
Ain’t you from Houston? Play your cards right
Or I’ll let this nigga from Texas hold ’em
The way he ’bout to die gon’ be a bad death
I’ll take his gun from him
Now Hollow toast is (halitosis) in his own mouth: that bad breath
These ten rounds will be stretchin’ somethin’
Next summer it’s either I get Con’ or I’ma Floyd Mayweather somethin’
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)

[Round 3: Hollow Da Don]
Bro, we just now gettin’ to know you
But you actin’ like you rock with us
Shout out to Con’, he doin’ his Wild N’ Out stuff
You think you could pick Con’, Tay (picante)?
Sorry, you ain’t hot enough
Fuck a rebuttal though, fuck rebuttalin’ Tay
But they said I gotta rebuttal to get him 30’d in a fight
Since y’all ain’t like that, fuck it
I can rebuttal niggas from earlier tonight
Like T-Top said somethin’ about a microwave, right?
Well, set the time, we can all get it
I got the metal sparkin’ like I left a fork in it
Wait, wait, Calicoe said he aired Roc out, he done dribblin’, mane
Well I got the gauge to pump Roc back up
I’m here to finish the game
Shout to Juelz ’cause I fuck with your bars
You see me, you see J, you see a car next to a car
I see you, I see Vada, you in the next nigga car
It’s obvious Tay got no respect—
Nigga you drive like an Intrepid
That’s why you rammin’ heads like the Dodge emblem
I drive different, like a Tesla car engine
I’m the reason the line outside longer than an Escobar sentence
I’m the reason there’s always people in front of the building like a methadone clinic
You probably paid to get into Summer Madness 1
And didn’t know Summer Madness 2 was also mine
You know that whole funeral casket blog thing?
Me and Beas’ had that all designed
If Beasley man enough to tell you
You’ll find I’m lowkey the man up in Harlem like Carlton Hines
So yeah this is your home
But remember, you don’t live alone
I was actually here before you, I helped build the bricks and stones
He got me in defensive mode
I’m boxin’ one, I gotta pick a zone
They said this won’t help my stock
I said watch me use Roc as a stepping stone
I mean, you said you got knocked for mailing pounds in 2015
Nigga duh! It was hot by then
I started that in ’06 and stopped in ‘0-10
But battlers say Smack rockin’ his pockets
Nigga duh! He ain’t gon’ pay you off of every new event
Fuck half and half, he milkin’ you, you ain’t even gettin’ 2%
But then I see him tweet, “These bills kickin’ my ass!”
Nigga duh! That’s why you had to get a 9-to-5
So how it feel to look into yo’ mama eyes
And tell her you can’t make your talent monetize?
That’s ’cause he got no hustle outside of this
I mean all I see is this nigga complain
I’m like, “Life don’t come with a remote
You gotta get up and change.”
At first, I used to come to these battles strapped
If you ask a cat, think AI, the answer’s that
My whole career I carried that
Tommy Gun from the Punisher and the handle black
I’ma… I’ma… bro, why do we lie as rappers?
Like for real, like I can come up here and spit actual facts
I remember I had beef in my hood and I was scared, son
Bird sensed it so he threw me a weapon ’cause he had a spare one
I checked the clip, put one in the head in case I had to air one
Pulled up on that nigga block, hopped out and shot the fair one
I been scarred since my dad left my mom had my mind slippin’
Ironically, in Houston that had my mom trippin’
That’s why I stay with my son more than my gun
‘Cause I know if I raise him right he’ll pop different
I’m more mature
*You can leave. You can leave if you want to. We don’t need you.*
I said I went from Hennessy to ginger tea
I went from fitted hats to thinking caps
I went from probation to donation
But this ain’t about me
I’m just giving game so you ain’t gotta battle all day
Think Drake on YG’s record
Y’all don’t even peep that I’m rappin’ for Tay
The only thing you prepared for this year, my nigga, is this battle tonight
See me a few years from now, I’ll be winnin’ the battle at life
That’s ’cause I got the drive of Tony Robbins
The grind of Eric Thomas, the mind of Iggy Johnson
I ain’t got any options
I’m the King, junior, that’s why I’m killin’ you with no violence
This is suicide, Smack help with the notes since you co-signed him
When I go to the bed the gun on the stand next to a nigga like Joe Biden
And damn, see how hard it is? I forgot, no lyin’
Alright, I was on the E train and that shit was takin’ mad long
Union turnpike, when some guy woke up and randomly ran off
The doors closed, he’s bangin’ on ’em ’cause he left his bag on
The train takes off, he jumps in between the carts and grabs on
I’m thinking, “Whoo, this gon’ be a rough ride if he drags on!”
I waited 15 seconds, nobody did nothin’, it was a sad song
So my point is, we all could come to this stage
And rap about killin’ and how we’ll take a life
But I know the feeling of actually having to save a life
I mean, niggas might think that’s wack
‘Cause most wanna be a thug all the time
Y’all don’t care about other people ’til there’s blood on the line
And I’m showin’ love to everybody, I ain’t with the beef
I mean there’s more than one way I can be with the piece/peace
My nigga what you doing?
I’m tryin’ to make sure this nigga gets deceased

[Guy from the crowd]
Yeah yeah, but we don’t wanna hear that bullshit, Sharrief!

[Hollow Da Don]
This is what I’m talking about!
Time then, fuck it!

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