Tay Roc vs. Goodz [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Goodz]
Hey Shante (Tay) Roc
It’s about time we got it on while they watch
I like this
I heard a bunch of internet geeks wit’ they pom poms suckin’ Tay cock
Well I came to rap
But if I feel it’s on I’ll straight pop
Make my way in like Daylight Savings
Son (sun) it’s gon’ be a long day; watch
My last one was a trash kill
Well I came here in bullet proof aura and a swag shield
I don’t feel shit
Come talk wit’ a goon
Gun Bar King…’til Robocop walk in the room
Them shots don’t hurt
Let me hear son, Roc, you first
Ain’t no K-Shining wit’ me tho’, I’m a rock you first
It’s real and it don’t cost to be it neither
Keep it plain and simple with two straps like an orthopedic sneaker
Aye Shante (Tay) Roc
In real life are you holdin’ Glocks?
In real life you a family man in your raps you show and pop
From the time them rhymes start, you throwin’ shots
You know what? Stop, I hate liars
Makin’ up stories like Mona Scott
.45 keep my love on my hip and make me hop
Tell him, “Strip”, put a dub in ya bitch and make him watch
If I’m hungry and the gun around, I’m feedin’ him clips
Chinese food, you supposed wit’ them sticks
Aye Shante (Tay) Roc
Ya clothes ain’t big, big, big…but they big, big
But on URL, you could do nothin’ wrong
You wear big hats, baggy jeans and ya shirts are so fuckin’ long
I put the .50 to his face like Thomas Jefferson
Either you only got two singles in ya pocket or your money gone
Cause Thomas Jefferson was on the $2 bill, but like I said, on URL… you can do nothin’ wrong
“I kill DNA in NY: that’s D nanny”
They ain’t nothin’ ’bout that wack shit, they let you run along
I say “Bambi” it’s a big commotion, but like I said, on URL you can do nothin’ wrong
See Beasley, we gotta stop wit’ this wild behavior
You got the league owner co-signin’ a battler and suddenly they the crowd favorite
It’s a setup!
No fair game rap moves
You ducked me Volume 2
Knew I came to shit in that small room like an airplane bathroom
I’ll whip this big stage and this crowd around
So fuck it, tell ’em, “Crowd around”
Let’s make a bet Roc, that’s what I thought
In a 99-cent store, you wouldn’t put a dollar down
Another cut and another cut and another cut
Look like the seat belt won’t buckle up
First off, this would be a stab, not a cut
My bitch said, “He got that bar from an old car. Goodz that don’t fit you.”
I said, “You right. I guess when that whip got that new car smell you don’t have those issues.”
Oh you grown cause you got a gun, well I’ma act grown witchu
I let mine ring when it mean business, it’s my trap phone pistol
Pay attention
You never seen an iller nigga
I came from the dirt, the same place where we’ll put a nigga
How you underrate a Hannibal? Like I don’t be cookin’ niggas
Still get the job done but like a ghetto name on an application they overlook a nigga
Swag champ, me gettin’ money is past tense
You wit’ it Roc? A stomach shot will make this bitch curl up like bad cramps
.50 tuck, look like a new born in these black pants
Grip wit’ me, brought some Bloods and some Crips wit’ me, let’s flag dance
What you got about $100 in ya pocket?
Well if I put my 3K versus your 100, who wins the bigger bag fam’?
Oh yeah I’m still talkin’ battle rap, I’m just a Math fan
I was gun shoppin’ while grand moms was food shoppin’, both bringin’ them bags in
It’s crazy how while she was unpackin’ her last can, I was unpackin’ my last can’
Let me rap witchu
Better yet, let me chat witchu
Keep ya body language calm, or you gon’ leave wit’ more than one SMACK witchu
Battle rap beef, these niggas be havin’ rap issues
Well you can’t bring gun bars to a gun fight, let’s see how far that get you
I’ma make it so he don’t get booked
Tell me what happens when you put a Roc(k) in front of a hustler, nigga, it’s gon’ get cooked

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
I’m the shooter that he had for hire
He called a real Hitman, now you takin’ a bullet I had for Hollow and that’s no Good
I’m ’bout to show Goodz, I’m glad you ain’t give me Conceited
His name Reggie, you know I only smoke Goodz
Goodz in my blunt, I don’t be drinkin’ a lot
That slick fly shit, what makes you think you can bring it to Roc?
You’ll get robbed, then pistol-whipped when I’m swingin’ a Glock
Your whole face gon’ need ICE, that’s King Of The Dot
Aye, Goodz, this is my stress relief, this razor cut hella deep
I check his cheek, then back and forth across your Adam’s Apple, ya neck will leak
I’ll take ya Patek Philippe and throw you one-
I’ll have it to where this nigga can’t live in peace but can rest in peace
You extra weak
I’m not the one to sneak wit’ a blow
Fuck ya attitude, that shit you better keep in control
I’ll reach for this pole, squeeze and let go
Leg shot, it’ll be hard to keep up with half the people you know
Aye Goodz, you don’t know what’s at stake
Your resume don’t hold no fuckin’ weight
This is proof, Goodz don’t look the same amongst the greats
Me and this goofy ain’t the same
This toolie aim and bang
A nigga from the BX will be in excruciating pain
This shit? Will rip a runway, it’s my newer model
This dude will swallow every shot poppin’ out through the nozzle
Remember in ya battle with Hollow you threw the bottle?
Imagine drinkin’ Henny then my hollow go through ya bottle
Fuckin’ diva, you dead if I come to see ya
We both got stripes, but in the eye of a tiger you a fuckin’ zebra
I go dumb wit’ heaters, they’ll have to reconstruct ya features
Shatter ya face, I had the docs puttin’ together puzzle pieces
My shooter? A good shot, he always shot good
He’ll leave Goodz shot and come back after he shot Goodz
Do him bad, witness said it was not good
Ya mother gonna say the same thing lookin’ in that casket like, “That’s not Goodz!”
You know that this my shit
You get emotional and throw drinks like you a Love & Hip Hop bitch
I will grip my shit and use it on you
Bullet in his neck, he tryin’ to talk through a round like he usually do
Goodz, you tried to start wit’ me for nothin’?
This part gon’ be disgustin’
They call him, “Goodz Da Animal”, well what they call you when I’m huntin’?
Ya arteries I’m cuttin’, I Hawk him and he runnin’ wit’ the blade in him
You pull it out, ya heart won’t even function
You was weak in ya last battle and that’s part of the discussion
The Henny got you thinkin’ you punchin’ harder than you punchin’
You ain’t droppin’ shit
Try me? And ya face gettin’ knotted
I’ll drop Goodz on the ground, like if you break it you buy it
Why play wit’ the hottest? I live for this thing
Gun bar shit, I ain’t here to spit knowledge or drop no gems in the ring
Speakin’ of droppin’ gems (Jimz) in the ring…
Boy your bitch ass couldn’t even drop him gems in ya ring
I wish this nigga would swing, I’ll put ya shit in a sling
Fuck you up in front of ya niggas like, “This is ya king?!”
Black Panther shit, all lead spittin’, he gon’ feel it
He don’t what kinda (Wakanda) bald heads hit him
Try and stop me
I’ll aim this ya way and drop somebody
Explode on ’em, strapped to his chest like kamikaze
I’m kinda grimy
I’ll walk up on Goodz, cock the shotty
Aim at his face and try dentin’ his grill like a Maserati

[Round 2: Goodz]
I paid $800 dollars for these fuckin’ Yeezys and I ain’t tryin’ to brag my nigga
I say that Kanye West was fuckin’ buggin’, so I’m actually mad my nigga
$800 fuckin’ dollars and I can’t even get it back
I know this has nothin’ to do wit’ the battle, but this is just a few things I think about while y’all niggas rap
Hater you need to stop, talkin’ ’bout, “Don’t come up here talkin’ ’bout money.”
Well as far as the game goes, don’t paper beat Roc(k)?
They say, “You gotta be war ready for the Gun Bar King.”
I’m like, “Why? All you got is gun bars, king.”
You ain’t well rounded, well let me try that gun bar thing
Grip so big it got a strap, when I shoot it, it look like it’s in a one arm sling
And that’s ill
You think with guns they get you bars, same difference
I think with a gun and it’ll get me bars but I ain’t spittin’
I remember Tay Roc at 16, he was used to spittin’
Clothes filthy, but he stayed wit’ the newest fitted
Same big hat, I guess you never grew to fit it
Head shot, let the swelling fill in all the room that’s sitting
You tough though, right? Real rap blood
Oh I forgot in yo’ raps you gon’ air that snub
Soon as SMACK say, “That’s my favorite son. There’s that bars.”
Ayo Roc, you only hot cause SMACK said you was
That shit kills me
Little dirty niggas actin’ funny
When your only income is battle money
Ask about me kid, I’m back to back wit’ money
You a grown man, stop callin’ Harry to ask for money
Roc what? Roc tough? Roc where? I never knew
You always about to fight a nigga and never do
Put that bill on life nigga, respect is due
The clip long and it [?] it’s like a sectional
You can’t king a king playa, respect my moves
Or I’ma leave black read (red) across the board when I check a fool
You came a long way from the openin’ act I’m givin’ you some applause
Cause on Lionz Den we was sendin’ you to the store
These niggas get new fame and get retarded
I’ve been on top of the food chain since I started
Regardless, never I front
I could sit out three years, come back and get whoever I want
You see the difference?
You get hoed I do the pimpin’
You one of the bitches we send out while me and SMACK is talkin’ business
You see the difference?
I really took 50K to start my business
Gun bars! You livin’ through a rap, I really rap through what I’m livin’
See the difference?
I’m cheffin’ up, but ain’t no plates I be fixin’
Wild white, the dope stand say, “House Wife” I stays in the kitchen
See the difference?
I burn these MACs, too [?] for these birdy niggas
Ayo Houston, that’s just how you gotta talk to these dirty niggas
Whatchu know about a boss meetin’? Passin’ food we all eatin’
Stay the same, but I’ma eat whether you change like four seasons
Money showers, make it rain, the dope gone
I don’t even like steppin’ in snow, my coke pure
But you tough tho’, right Roc? Can we be sure?
You from the county, you not even from the real B-More
No projects, no shootouts, no knife killings
The county got big houses, gated communities and nice livin’
What I’m sayin’ is, while y’all run around believin’ son
Ya legendary Gun Bar King, come from a place where you don’t need a gun
I’m from the Bronx, New York, growin’ up you needed one
I guess I used to cheat on my bitch because I had to sleep wit’ one
I think it’s creative how you get bars from a gun
But I beat a strap charge at 16, I really almost got bars from a gun
This is real shit!
If it ain’t real it don’t feel right!
Calicoe, I’m just showin’ him the difference between metaphors and real life
Snub Glocks, ice grills in they mug shots
When I walk on stage I make it feel like a drug block
And you can’t eat, bear face while the cubs watch
I’ll insure you by lettin’ somethin’ registrate in ya glove box
I’ma make it so he don’t get booked
What happens when you put a Roc(k) in front of hustler nigga, it’s gon’ get cooked

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Y’all remember, he was just tellin’ y’all differences and shit, right?
It’s a difference? You like designer belts, you spend a grip on ya waist
Me? I keep somethin’ by the belt, it’s a grip on my waist
It’s a difference, you sucker punch niggas in the face
Me? I punch sucka niggas in the face
For real tho’!
Beas’ hit me like, “Hey man, please don’t mention his daughter.”
Huh, I told him, “You really soft.”
You say one mo’ motherfuckin’ thing I don’t like, that deal is off
Try stealin’ off, I show you I’m handy wit’ it
You say your daughter off limits? Cool, well the rest of ya family get it
Like the woman that birthed you, I grip a fifth and then butt her
No jokes, you should be used to Clips hittin’ ya mother
Aye, I’m no type of sucker, head shot, he don’t know if he might recover
It rain on him, flash then bang on him
It’s lightening and thunder, I might just cut ya
You gon’ die in the H, this knife will puncture
Whoever wit’ him, dyin’ in the H too (H2), no type of Hummer
I’ll run up on him, K wit’ a drum, I’m like a plumber
Stick got a round on the bottom look like a plunger

{Tay Roc starts getting booed by the crowd}

[Tay Roc talking back to the crowd]
That’s the first time this ever happened to me. Give me that. Thank you. Thank you. I need that. Aye! Aye! Aye! Y’all just made me mad, thank you. Aye! Aye! Aye!

I’m phenomenal, these bullets unstoppable, hit ya abdominal
The cops come, I don’t know no Goodz, I’m irresponsible
Fuck nigga, aye, always tryin’ to swag his way outta obstacles
Until he brain dead and he gotta swag his way outta hospital
I ain’t got no Ferragamo bars for you
And nigga this ain’t even fair, I got mo’ bars than you
Where Hitman? This shit is a fuckin’ joke
I was gonna kill that nigga from the Lou’ but on (Louboutin) another note
Y’all tell Goodz, tuck his pride or (Prada) or get carried to a hearse
That’s where you gon’ end up B.U.R. buried (Burberry) in the dirt
This jerk get schemed on if he in designer
Meaning, if he don’t defend he (Fendi), get beat out his Balenciagas
I got him, we gon’ catch this nigga comin’ out of Saks Fifth
What’s in the car? Max (Carmax) the bullets the size of chapsticks
Fat bitch, stupid, thinkin’ that we can match wits
You only smokin’ rock, takin’ crack hits outta glass d-
Trap shit, I met a few connects in a couple states
Now I’m the plug, Goodz get boxed then shipped to another place
I saw the barrel of the pump, it was too long
You move wrong, I’ma use it on Goodz, it’s a coupon
My Houston scheme vs Hollow? That shit was the hottest
But don’t worry, I brought a different one to stick to the topic
This how it go, I’ll grip it and cock it
Catch you in that Camry, your Toyota sent to (Center) get hit wit’ a Rocket
Now my Houston baseball fans, y’all should get it from the start
Drum shoot for 60 seconds, one Minute made (Maid) him Park
This nigga was never heard to be goon
Since we in Houston, you got options, and your first choice is emergency room
They ain’t tell you? Needin’ stitches and staples hurt
Tryin’ to put me in the ER and you gon’ end up a patient first
Do somethin’, suck my dick, you ain’t gon’ do nothin’
Silencer on it, when it sound off, that’s a mute button
I’m tryin’ to split his wig when I grip a SIG
Or MAC-10 have him runnin’ from a Lil’ Uzi like Rich The Kid

{Crowd starts booing again}

So tuck ya weapon or get your helmet cracked when I dump the Wesson
His closet? Designer clothes
My closet? A gun collection
You’ll think the NFL was my one profession
The safety down on the D.E., that’s run protection
You lovin’ jokin’, you be sippin’ too much of that thug potion
Slap you and ya drink out ya hand in one motion
Pistol whip ’til ya shit get bust open
Docs said, “His face will never be Goodz again” like the trust broken
Light bars nigga

[Round 3: Goodz]
If you wear another Al Kapone Cigarillo’s shirt in one of ya battles, I’ma hurt you nigga
The difference is, they pay me to do they commercials nigga
That means, I’m the man, I don’t gotta act
You the man in battle rap, but ain’t worth shit outside of that
Speak about my kid, I’ll let it slide, nah I got to much pride for that
My daughter will never see another man disrespect her in her father’s face, I’m willin’ to die for that
In my last battle y’all seen, it had a lot of hidden gems (hitting Jimz)
Y’all ain’t even catch that, in my last battle y’all seen, it had a lot of-
It was a brawl! But you can hate me hater
He even said it, that punch got Jimz SMACK, well he can thank me later
I got a question
I got a FUCKING question, why y’all battle rap niggas so aggressive?
Rappin’ about your machete and ya TEC, jumpin’ around all sweaty lookin’ wet
Well I brought some killers wit’ me, and I’m hopin’ they handle you
Should’ve learned from Kevin Hart in Jumanji, ain’t no jokin’ wit’ animals
Open the manual, the ratchet will pop, casket will drop
This shit that I got for you, don’t have instructions on the back of that box
You can’t fix this, you can look on whatever
Bars crazy and so am I, with a couple of screws loose I still can put it together
I’m built different
When I walk on stage, it just feel different, it’s rules to this
Spare the kids, don’t kill the women
I had real beef before, over a drug block
I’m talkin’ real beef, life if I see you, or you see me, it’s gon’ pop
Got caught slippin’, close range, he pulled the gun from his waste
So why the fuck would I be scared of some gun bars, when I really had one in my face
I really lived that, I can’t wait for a nigga to act weird
I just bought a new mask wit’ Beasley head and SMACK beard
Y’all get me tight nigga
Act tough but so polite nigga
Start beef on Twitter and wanna write niggas
Battle rap pussies, I don’t like niggas
I don’t “almost” about to fight niggas, I FIGHT NIGGAS!
Y’all teamed up soon as ya idol gave props
Wait, wait, wait, ain’t you Tsunami’s son?
Yeah, yeah, yeah your new name should be Tidal Wave Roc
Speakin’ of Surf, why don’t he ever get no real time but always get caught wit’ the strap
Oh I got it! Because you hide ’em all in ya raps
Gun bars, right? But ain’t that just bars bro?
What I rap about I really live, this ain’t just bars tho’
When I rap about whips, I really had my strip lookin’ like a cars show
When I rap about chicks, any bitch you see me with is thicker than cigar smoke
That’s why URL pays me more, this is God’s flow
I black wit’ lines over them numbers, they know the bar code
I hate this facade though, in battle rap is the same shit
A bunch of get money killers, running around wit’ these fake chains
(Oh you took it off. Oh there it go)
It just don’t add up, where you get all this money Tay?
Drivin’ around in a hooptie, but ya chain cost 20K
Them diamonds real though, huh? It might be if I look at it in a funny way
Tay Roc fans tweeting right now, “That chain ain’t fake.”
I can’t wait to see what these dummies say
Tay Roc you rap like this, “I get at him, I get at chu. You flip a brick I flip it too.”
Shut the fuck up, I hate ya accent
This that new cash cologne they gotta Axe scent
Don’t act raw wit’ a glass jaw it might break into fragments
Y’all five deep in a one bedroom payin’ ’em mad rent
I just dropped 20K on a house, another 10 on the closing
Somethin’ these dirty niggas know nothin’ about
Weed head, rather spend ya last cash on green you grown [?]
Why don’t you save up that lil’ weed money and try to own somethin’?
Have not, you can’t put me in a bad spot
You got gun bars versus- my credit is 720 now, mad props
I was thinkin’ ’bout buyin’ a new whip, so I looked ’em up on my lap top
Saw the new Tesla and started thinking, how would your drive be without the gas, Roc?
Buck 50 bubble his face and his skin
If I don’t like him, that’s when the trouble waitin’ to begin
Suffocate him til he pass out then suffocate him again
They say, “Why Goodz always drinkin’ when he battle?”
Cause I’m already celebratin’ my win

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
Aye Goodz, my nigga, you punched a nigga cause you thought he brought up ya daughter
I’m mad at that
Why would you battle me?
Nigga I love to cross those types of lines in battle rap
I respect how you feel ’bout yo’ daughter, I won’t let a can’ clap her
But I will stick a mouse trap in her box of graham crackers
In ya contract, you better read as it follows
Swing on me, you not gon’ be rematchin’ Roc, you gon’ be rematchin’ Hollow
Scratch that, I cock the pound then knock him down
Think NOME 1, y’all gon’ be seein’ Goodz killed by some Hollow rounds
How I’m a bum, with my own whip and my own spot?
You worried ’bout all the stupid shit that I don’t got
You’ll get beat wit’ the clip ’til ya shit got a swole knot
Get stepped on, I’ll put the cut on Goodz like a coke shop
That’s light, that’s light
You soft as a soap op’
You so twat, I hold ya face down on a stove top while the stove hot
It’s that old Roc, throw ya dead body off a boat dock
Blow up the whole block, dynamite taped to an old clock
Get ya show stopped, nigga you gon’ need a whole SWAT
The sawed off? Named “Michael Jackson” cause the nose chopped
You don’t know squat, dome shot when the chrome pop
Machine gotta keep him alive, now he a robot
That’s light, that’s light
Your problem is, you play too much, I don’t play as much
This a mini chopper, the K it shrunk it don’t weigh as much
I’ll leave him stinkin’, sprayin’ skunk is the way he stunk
.30 be tucked, it’s a courtesy flush, I spray and dump
He think Tay a chump, until I stumble up on him, I’m playin’ drunk
Ya face get cut, I tried to take a chunk but the razor stuck, you gon’ be layin’ slumped
I wave the pump, cave ya front
Catch ya bitch and give ya boo da (Buddha) bald head, that’s prayer monks
Play wit’ us, they gon’ have to wire ya mouth
You from up north, but ya body they gon’ find in the south
Two guns, the first one I start firin’ out
Go in the trunk for the second and then let the spare tire him out
I came from the bottom to the tip top
In battle rap, unless you got a lake in ya yard, you cannot skip Roc(k)
I’m this hot
I’ve been overlapped you, this shit a pit stop
Don’t be the nigga we slide on like a flip flop
Diss Roc, you gon’ die over hip hop
For Roc(k) bands they hit ’em wit’ Metallica ya neck get tied in a Slipknot
He’ll get a wig shot from a six shot
Money on his head I get Goodz got for cheap like a thrift shop
Bitch stop, you ain’t rough enough to be in battle rap
Gun Titles? You don’t want smoke with even half of that
50 round clip, hangin’ out this automatic gat
Just know if you comin’ after the Titles, make sure ya ladder match
This a casket match
I’m tryin’ to hit his head wit’ a shell
If I get caught I’m gonna be goin’ through Hell in a cell
But I’m like “Damn that. Hand me that strap.”
The gun big, I gotta use two on one like a handicap match
I’ll catch ya bitch then strong arm her
Copper heads in the joint, I’ll let somethin’ bronze (Bronx) bomb him (bomber)
I’ll box ya like Deontay Wilder
They ain’t hear me, I said, “I’ll box ya cause the D.E. on Tay wilder” nigga
You gon’ beat me? You’re dead!
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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