Nu Jerzey Twork vs. Chess [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I say, yo
I said, when I first started this shit, I just swore I had the right vision
I critiqued my whole style, added a little lyricism
It was quite timid
And I’m sure you came here, prepared with things you think that I might mention
Nah…we gon’ do this wit’ a slight difference
Your life’s endin’, pipe liftin’
In the scope, eyes squinted
BANG! – ‘til there’s no more left, then the right kickin’
BANG! Now there’s one more left for the nice Smith n’
Shine on Chess (chest): ice pendant
BANG! Steel (still) get off: white privilege!
My mind trippin’…
If I don’t get rid of this throwaway, it’s a life sentence
Ponder, “You know, it Must Be Nice”
Gotta think before you let it go: it’s Lyfe Jennings!
I’m quite gifted, and so ferocious
Back in the days, I used to hit the block wit’ most the dro’
Weed and the Glock
Stick and the pot: Hocus Pocus!
You know I’m totin’!
Ain’t you from the “College of Kickin’ Doors Down”?
Oh, you broke it open
See, me, I hit ya home with soldiers
We do B-&-Es with no commotion
Take the back side in, and turn the inside out: do the Hokey Pokey!
You know it’s loaded!
U.S. Desert is legal
Oh, you ain’t like that Abercrombie bar?
(*chk-chk*) How ’bout this American Eagle!?
BANG! I pop those!
You talk struggle?
Man, my homie did a seven-year bid and got poke
They told him on his route, it was death or jail, and he got both!
Who got smoke?
If it’s problems, I look at it as problems, not jokes!
Silencer, I potato the beef: make pot roast!
The Glock close!
And I keep a deuce
I was gon’ hit Steams wit’ two
But this shit to plant in your mouth: I’m makin’ vegan food
Release it, too- Nah!
Well, Steams, think I’mma make you swallow a bullet, and then I’m leavin’ you?
BOW! Now you can have your Cake, and you can eat it, too!
I’m creepin’ through!
I come around, and you still Cakin’ the fuck up!?
Well, when this round through, ain’t NOBODY wakin’ the fuck up!
Your luck’s up, no tolerance
The nose stuffed: it got sinuses
And if Chess (chest) rub me wrong…there’s gon’ be a lot of vics (Vicks)!
Demolish shit!
I shook his pride wit’ a bigga 9, then the semi fly
Pop, and I have more tools (half-mortals)…demiGod!
The shit I palm make a loud boom
Oh, y’all don’t think I’ll peel (pill) this lil’ boy? How rude
Revolver, push down his cap and spin: this child proof!

[Round 1: Chess]
URL, I’m home again…
Skin complexion on a Create-A-Player…it’s time to set the tone again
Smack told me the Cake over, so I gotta cake over, then
‘Cause Chess the truth! Respect your youth! This my show again!
I’m showin’ him the young niggas is the real Gooonies!
It’s always these old-heads tryna stop us from goin’ in!
Think about it!
But if he push me to the last straw, pussy, you gon’ have to drink up out it!
Cop a weapon
That’s penny-brown: it’s a copper weapon
For not mindin’ his two cents: somethin’ leakin’ out it!
Think about it!
When I fucked up, these people doubted
Now I’m back, on a run
Earnin’ stripes for bodies like an Adidas outf-
Your whole fuckin’ team is clownish
Jakkboy was at home, talkin’ like he had Steams surrounded
‘Til I lift it and top, sizzle his top
Now it’s holes in it…it steams around it
My Gs be wildin’
We really about this life, God (lifeguard)
When all you see is an arm out to pull (out the pool), don’t think we drownin’…
‘Cause that would be suicide
But I done put a couple Gs on they feet, like Gucci slides
So what you think they’ll do for me, if I ain’t tryna see you alive?
Get one of my lil’ trap niggas to do the job
I ain’t gotta pay him in bread!
Just put weight on ya head, and you could die…
A couple plates for a plate, nobody in my youth denies
All it take is a pound to put dog down: he gettin’ euthanized!
Postin’ them lil’ guns on the Net don’t mean you givin’ me shooter vibes!
It’s not impressive
Taking the media route will lead me to ya house, knockin’ reckless
If you on sites, it’s on sight
‘Cause I don’t argue wit’ clowns in the comment section
I just keep still (steel), like I am kleptic
The men it hit died in seconds
No gloves when I shot the weapon
I left prints on the SIG (cig’) like it was bio metric
I’m the best!
My class is the reason the newer niggas got respect
Brizz, T-Top, and Chess, and, and, and…
Well, I can’t really vouch for Saga, Dot, and Prep
But we were the first three to show y’all that we could rock wit’ vets
See, we the now, y’all the next
They knew these guys will turn these (attorneys) to bigger stars like Bob Celes’
Y’all don’t know Bob Celest?
That’s big lawyer shit
I got connects for any crime that I fought
And I ain’t ever leave the town after the body I caught
I stayed in the hood: me and Twork more alike than I thought!
See, we really killers!
You from Trenton, I’m from the trenches: it’s different, nigga!
Smack, please tell him: it’s a difference, nigga
Between culture vultures and gifted niggas!
I ain’t have to sit the bench for niggas
My weight was off the strength of niggas
‘Cause there’s a thin line between gettin’ robbed and givin’ niggas
‘Cause it wasn’t about money when I married the mic (Mike)
That’s Robin Givens, ni-
I always got the bigger picture
I was makin’ niggas bigger, while makin’ myself a bigger nigga
And y’all mothafuckas is mad at me!?
Actin’ like he got to this spot as fast as me!?
Or even faster, B!?
When I was everywhere, pullin’ all-nighters, never had to sleep!?
We were trained different!
How is NJT on the same path as me, nigga!?

[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I said (*swoo*), rusty blade thing
A buck-fifty will give you gangrene
Nah…’cause even if I’m in the public, I blaze things
You’ll die on the spot like Beijing
You ain’t hear what I did to ‘Eazy!?
That was bye-bye, baby!
Drive-by, .762s fly by crazy!
Get to flippin’ wit’ the thingy on the side (*brreep*) like the i880
The next tail (Nextel), got high
Twork had a 100-clip, and 9880!
That’s crazy! Hammer blam
Creep up, he never seen it from the side: Sandra Bland – BAM!
Y’all ain’t seen how this Cake walk? He’d never stand a chance
Scope see right through this bitch Chess (chest) like a mammogram!
Damn it, fam!
I get the strap, then I’m bombin’
100-round: clip longer than “Trapped In the Closet”!
I’m wildin’, he rappin’
I’m on stage, but the pole is tucked
Nah, listen…
We both choke, but, nigga, you bold as fuck
And I ain’t Shine
What, you gon’ eat my food?
(*pretends to vomit*)
And then you throwin’ up!
I know what’s up, and I’m a fool wit’ the Spirit that’s amongst me
And when Jesus enter Jerusalem, I tend to act a donkey!
Bruh, Berettas burstin’-
Nah, I’m way too ahead of verses
And I’mma still act a donkey like Eddie Murphy

[Round 2: Chess]
I’ve been in my zone lately
So all that hoppin’ around shit just won’t faze me
Twork, PLEASE!
Don’t make me…have to show…ya old lady
You ain’t a Gooonie! You just Sloth!
You gon’ see your baby roof (Baby Ruth), and GO CRAZY!
You pussy, Twork!
Treat me like one of the niggas you bully, Twork
Head shot!
Get ya shit pushed back like you pushed me first!
I promise you, these bullets hurt!
And if Steams murderin’ the victim, I’ll get 30 in the system like I took a Perc’
I could get worse
They came to see the old me today
They want me back on that NOME shit wit’ Tay
‘Cause Chess is the best
Mandela effect: they remember me a whole different way!
But they say, “That was back then…”
So, I’m back, then!
Take a round, and tag him
Basically, I’m comin’ at (@) him
He strapped in!?
I’ll SMASH in…both his hands wit’ a hammer!
How he gon’ use his strap, then!?
I’ll CLAP him…keep clappin’, then reload it!
I talk guns ‘cause I actually will blow it!
FACTS! I ain’t just rappin’ niggas totin’…
Wit’ all these fuckin’ arm bars, I could SNAP AT ANY MOMENT!
Hold ON! Hold ON!
TWORK, you like to scream in niggas’ ears…
Well, you facin’ a nigga that scream in niggas’ ears!
I gotta talk to this fruit, the same way he be talkin’ to his peers (pears)!
Tote guns in his face: now he speakin’ to a pair!
He was actin’ wicked, which (witch) led to them Sweepers in the air!
Twork, you think a nigga care when he’s holdin’ ya fate?
I been there, fightin’ for my life, I know what it takes
So, as soon as somethin’ occur, this blow (Kurtis Blow)
Don’t make me have to show The Breaks!
I know what’s at stake (steak)
That’s why I’m leavin’ wit’ T bones on a plate
We both battled nobodies and smoked ‘em for Dre
But here’s where God really gon’ have to open the Gates
For you to enter this shit
Nigga, spit what you spit
But when I rap, zip up your lips
Talkin’ through my rounds, a nigga get hit…
Don’t interrupt me on stage, pussy! I’m too Swift wit’ the shits
Watch, T, I (T.I.) black-
On a serious tip, it’s lit for you, bitch, and it’s lit for your bitch
Pool of blood, let ‘em both swim in the shit
They bleed so bad, Migos swag
You can see the drip through their fits

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I swear to God, I done really let toys fly out the windows of joyrides
I done had copper hit the ground like a penny droppin’…
And this coincide (coin side)
I’m back, rejuvenated!
I’m at ya crib…
If he in there sleepin’ peaceful, then he in for a rude awakenin’!
Big shit!
I’m sittin’ by the bed while he snoozin’, waitin’
Sniper rifle: bird eyes on Chess (chest) like a Hooters waitress!
Ruger blazin’!
I pop, then bury the gun until they lose the cases…
Then come back to pull it out the dirt like a rutabaga!
I’m too courageous
Brand new MAC I just altered wit’ a big laser
The 10 advanced: Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader?
Big blazer
My homie had the P89, he a risk-taker
I seen it, and needed a trade for it: bricklayer
Switchblade him!
You gettin’ stabbed, dragged, hit, and hit wit’ a biscuit
A whole Series of Unfortunate Events…Lemony Snicket!
I’m grippin’ some big shit! The arm is palmed
(*chk-chk*) Boom!
Kicks in the Cake: The Longest Yard!
I’m troublesome!
Glock-49, I’ll let 100 dump
BOW! This shit like Donkey Kong: it got the double drum!
I’m buckin’ some-
I’ll put a gun in this nigga shit!
Put a five to Chess (chest): “I’m comin’, Elizabeth!”
This nigga bitch! You choke, and I’m knockin’ you out
And that speak volumes, too
He froze up and got stretched: Streets: Volume 2
I’m tauntin’ you!
Put away the Glock, get out the shotgun: this shit an audible!
I’m warnin’ you, I brought the goons, they load the heaters
My pupils follow you around the room, like Mona Lisa!
I leave, then come back a second time like Grover Cleveland
He tried to wrestle (Russell) wit’ the Thunder, but seen he had to pace (Pacers) himself like Oladipo!
I hold the Eagle, split his mug
(*chk-chk*) The .50 upside-down…In Da Club!
NAH! I ain’t even strapped!
I’m still on strike! Y’all gotta deal wit’ that!
All this pay-per-view shit!?
I don’t like what I’m hearin, Smack!

[Round 3: Chess]
I told Suge that out of Jersey niggas, that man’s the worst
Who am I, tho’ (Otto)? A nigga wit’ enough Rocket Power to handle Surf
Or pistol-whip Red
Watch somethin’ in O snap (Oh, snap) like he’s scared to curse
Get Arsonal clapped, now he smokin’ on that Arsonal pack…
I just call it a new strand of purp
We got somethin’ for everybody in Jersey club
Even brought a ratchet to dance wit’ Twork (twerk)
So let’s dance, Twork-
I talk this struggle shit, and niggas always try and down me
And I made it (animated)…like how your rounds be
None of them fabricated lines arouse me
Being a real hitta around fake punches got me feelin’ like Ronda Rousey
Real hittas? Fake punches? Feelin’ like Ronda?
Two tools, on his block
We be lettin’ go the toys like a generous toddler
But you? Just an impostor
Social studies: get booked wit’ the Llama
If you don’t wanna shake, spare (Shakespeare) me the talk
Don’t go lookin’ for drama!
Think I’m scared, ‘til I’m pullin’ a chopper
How can Static Shock a young black nigga that’s good wit’ his power?
Speakin’ of young black kids that’s good wit’ they power
His hood used to look like Wakanda…
‘Til my niggas made a visit
Now it look like Rwanda!
And all them niggas is pussy behind ya!
They not finna scrap
So you really believe in them guys in the back?
Until I rob ‘em wit’ gats
I’ll fuck up Nu Jerzey drive (New Jersey Drive) soon as Ryda (rider) get jacked (Jakk’)
And he ridin’ wit’ Mack, aka the “Sauce Gawd”
Well, I ride wit’ a MAC, too, but I get mine from a different source, God
Growin’ up, all he saw is God
Why does he even sin?
Your mother work in the church
I can’t even pretend
At first, I thought it was an overdose!
But now I realize he just be rappin’ wit’ the Holy Ghost!
‘Cause before every battle, Mom Dukes be preachin’ to him
She prayin’ for him, but I’m preyin’ on him!
We finna spin!
9s, AKs: both heaters at him!
Draco (Drake go) after the Mill’ like they beefin’ again!
Man, be honest!
You struggled, too – wit’ a whole bunch of family problems, and can’t resolve ‘em
I would say, “I’ll fuck ya girl face in”
But I’d rather let my nigga Prezzy get his hands up on it
‘Cause I heard she fuck wit’ Spanish Harlem niggas
Pardon self – I heard she got fucked by a nigga named Spanish Harlem
Now, that ain’t my business as a man and shit
But while you was doin’ you, she was doin’ her
Prob’ly ran through dick
You was papi, now you share the bitch
She gave up ya box, and now bacalao: that’s Spanish fish!
It’s different, bro
I ain’t get it off, bruh, I can’t rap
He just smoked me with the fire bar…

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