Arsonal vs. Nu Jerzey Twork [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I said, Arsonal’s a league owner
Next card you throw, if I ain’t invited, it’s on
I’ll come to a packed-out UDubb event and pull the fire alarm
I was gonna come here with no jokes and knock you the fuck out
You get hit wit’ a combination
But I say, nah, I’m gon’ rap…’cause I gotta get the deposit waitin’
And I ain’t gon’ choke tonight!
{Crowd cheers}
And even if I do, I better still get paid, or a Llama blazin’
Try me…I’ll shoot the club up: she ovulating!
9 will blaze him!
Nah, .38 with the beam for his eyes to gaze in
I got it flashin’ on top of a tre (tray): bottle waitress
Salutations, drive-by, Scion racin’
I said Scion ’cause my bitch whippin’: dominatrix!
I’m tired of playin’
Loud thunder, I’ll have my bitch clip ya man Swag, the cal’ dumpin’
I told her, “Sting Ray”: Crocodile Hunter
And if Ars’ trail ya (Australia), he’s goin’ down under!
I’m the top gunner, I’m the top dawg
You told Trick Trick you ain’t know Suge
If you thought he was ya bro, he not one
Pop somethin’, this shit look like a Photoshop gun
(*chk-chk*) He’s like, “Is that a 12-gauge?”
BAOW! I thought you ain’t KNOW no Shotgun!
I watched son and behind all these you the brokest bum
If I give you a brick, tell you to bring it back in two days
It better be sold in one
Let him try to play with my money, I’mma load a gun
You gon’ see this hammer like Thor
Nah, I’m just tellin’ you you better pay me what you owe, then, (Odin) son
I’m rollin’ up, out the Escalade
The chrome will dump
Throw him in the Gulf (golf), I hopped out the Caddy with the iron and put a hole in-
Nah, that’s old as fuck
But I gave him a warnin’
He thought I was fakin’ performin’
Dome shot, permanent head wrap: Sway in the Morning!
I’m bombin’ and came to snatch everything out your confidence
Since you tryin’ to convince the world of your accomplishments
I’m your co-
Fuck that! Bigga 9 is gripped!
The Glock a stick
Pistol-whip ’til something Big bent (Ben): I’ll clock his shit
I’m not for shit
I was just at the hotel with Hollow Da Don, real modest friend
He kept tellin’ me how you was tryna cheat him at the Fight Klub
I said, “Man, you gotta try to forgive.”
He said he might do the same shit to you, I said, “Ain’t that ’bout a bitch.”
All that advice for the Dinininon…but all I could think about was the Hollow tips!
I’m not for shits! I’m ’bout to catch a body in this place!
Chrome sparkin’, dumpin’
This the old Ars’ in London
(*chk-chk*) The Shotty in his face!
A Beretta to his back!
Y’all ain’t tired of him retirin’?
(*chk-chk*) BAOW! This time, he ain’t NEVER comin’ back!
I’m so for real
Errrrt! Grip and I load the steel
‘Cause before a nigga beat me with Squidward’s clarinet, I’mma do a drive-by in the Invisible Boatmobile!
This dude is gay-
Man, fuck the jokes, tool will spray
BAOW! Bullet as big as a Avocado: this shit’ll Ruin Your Day!
I’m triflin’, shorty
“Mr. Disrespectful”
Talk about everybody motherfuckin’ kids, which is twice as corny
You don’t got custody of ya child, nigga
You can’t even Skype ya daughter
Ya baby mom just want a little child support
BAOW! Now she gonna get ya life insurance!
I light the .40, but he still don’t get it
Well, let me get real close wit’ it
Steel toes wit’ it
I see your daughter, take that lil’ bitch head and field-goal-kick it!
I’m wild like that, bitch
Fuck this bus driver, I’ll do him downright tragic
Wait ’til he’s lettin’ off his kids, put out his lil’ ‘Bus Stop’ sign and drive right past him!
It’s Nu Jerooz and them Gooonies, my crew recruited him
We suited and booted and shoot through him
He knew we hooligans
Pop! And since you motherfuckin’ hate midgets, it’s two to shoot at him
Leg shot, baow baow!
“I don’t like the look-“
I Oompa-Loompa’d him!
Jersey!

 

[Round 1: Arsonal]
I said once again I’m here, I’m in another nigga’s space
I’m on another nigga’s stage
(Up in another niggas face!)
(*chk-chk*) Bigga 9!
I sit down at ya table durin’ dinner time
While your mother say her grace, I introduce her to this dick of mine!
I hit his spine
Oh, now, his life racin’ to the finish line
Ambulance nowhere near – the paramedics is on nigga time!
Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah!
It’s gon’ be every line
Ya gun go baow! baow! – mine make a different chime
It only shoot Hollows, so when it fire it go, “Dininon!”
Dininon! Dininon! Dininon!
I use that old .40 until it’s empty – then a 9!
While you was gettin’ jumped in a gang at age 25, tryin’ to learn how to rob a nigga
I was teachin’ my daughter her ABCs and how to count
I’m just bein’ honest wit’cha
You lettin’ ya homies peace ya son like he’s Piru
He a toddler, nigga
I should adopt the nigga to hurt ya heart just for bein’ a better father figure!
See, my young niggas, they look at me and call me an old-head ’cause I’m past 29
Well, I’m thanking God
‘Cause all my other friends who turnin’ 30 now, they ain’t alive
Nigga, depression always dimmin’ your lights, give you that tinted vibe
The emptiness in ya body, that’s a feelin’ you can’t describe!
What you know about lurkin’ in Excursions, foreign car swervin’?
You say some shit out loud in English, but the car talk back German
Oh, you still learnin’
I was in them Newark streets, purging, purging, purging
I’ll let three clap at ya dinner table like, “Sherman! Sherman! Sherman!”
Oh, yeah! Ya bitch, I caught, right?
Her boyfriend? Dork type
I’mma turn the middle of London into a Newark night
Me and ya shorty, chemistry bustin’ (bussin’), it wasn’t forced like
We just started building out of nowhere: Fortnite!
See, look, I’m in your doorway like, “Hey, bitch, I’m talkin’ to ya mother.”
I ain’t even after you, Twork: the target is your brother
I see him drivin’ down the driveway, but the shotgun in my pants got my limpin’ like one of my legs was longer than the other!
Oh, I start chasin’ him
He runnin’, I’m walkin’, I’mma Jason him
Pull the mask down, soon as he trip, I’m Crystal Lake-ing him
Catch the body in London, travel back to the States with him
Ain’t no more Twork: now they got belly dancers replacing him!
Oh, hold up, I’m in a demonic state
Let’s play hide-and-seek now, I ain’t tryin’ to wait
I preheat the oven to 400 degrees, tell your son that’s his hiding place
I’ma bake his lil’ ass, then use his fingers for the candles in his father cake
Then artificially inseminate dog semen in his mommy while she ovulate
Oh I’m watchin’ her, I’m keepin’ eye contact, while I’m fockin’ her
Nasty bitch – (*ptoo*) I spit in that hoe mouth while I’m on top of her
I stick my whole fist in her ass while I’m massaging her
And punch you in your face, motherfucka, to make you popular!
That’s how you get shit-faced without havin’ to drink
Disrespect is how you win battles without havin’ to think
Nigga, these bullets is up for grabs for anybody: that’s an Eli throw
Pull a knee hi-low, I don’t need you in my B.I. bro
Spin the block again, me I go
I ain’t out the window-
What you said?
Bro, don’t talk while I’m rappin’ – they see the way
You don’t want this to be a reenactment of you versus DNA!
DON’T! FUCKIN’! PLAY! WITH! ME! NIGGA!
Rookie mistake! Don’t do it again!
Pull a knee hi-low, I don’t need you in my B.I. bro
Spin the block again, me I go
I ain’t out the window
I’m on top of the car, stuck in the shootin’ position, lookin’ like a G.I. Joe!
This nigga choke every battle
Y’all brought him to London and got his stock tweekin’?
But when NuBorn do it, y’all not lenient
Why y’all bring him!?
He Freddy Krueger
You think he a killer – stop dreamin’!
But you gave him that role, so don’t be surprised if he Rob England (Englund)!
I’m not sayin’ it again, I’m Glock-squeezin’
Close-range, ya top leakin’
Call it Ella Mai: this London ratchet I got singin’
Blow your brains out in front of Hollow and John, the .9 tweekin’
You can spill ya thoughts in front of both of Da Dons, it’s a mob meetin’
You cannot stroll through my hood, you get no stamps and passes
When I think of Twork with hands on the metal, don’t that sound to you like pole dancing classes?
So I pop a band, now it’s rainin’ on a stripper
I propose a toast
Give him three shots to the head and tell him, “Blame it on the liquor”
I’m cocky as Ali, but I’m dangerous as a Hitler
I’ma keep beatin’ ya bitch box until you say you get the picture
Long stick, one button: I’mma spray you with the Swiffer
I leave bodies on top of bodies: who tryin’ to play a game of Twister?
Nigga, I’ll know ya head off of yo’ shoulders and keep ya necklace
You better stand ya ground, registered gun, I’m peace (piece) protectin’
And I ain’t even gotta scratch off the number, or be so reckless
I just show the serial (cereal) in yo’ mouth, like “Eat yo’ breakfast”
You gangsta? You dangerous? Ya pistol’s spittin’ WHERE!?
You like a frog tryin’ to catch a fly! You be lickin’ in the air!
I think this shit work wrong
‘Cause this is what happen every time I say, “Siri, play me a Twork song”
{Arsonal plays a twerking song from his phone into his microphone}
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
(And you can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that “Ars'” in it)

[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I took heed to self
They said, “After that last Summer Madness, Twork need to redeem himself.”
I could’ve threw DNA in the back of the car, set it on fire, watch him scream for help
Fuck a battle…
Cook E (cookie) in the trunk: Keebler Elf
That’s what I shoulda did
And y’all thought I was gonna come to London and not be as good as him?
I started to show up with white picket signs: I took offense (a fence)
This ain’t really as urgent, and then your bitch ass got on blogs talkin’ ’bout I really didn’t deserve this
See, one thing I can’t do is stand bull (Istanbul): city in Turkey
He nervous, I clap this person, MACs is burstin’
30 in it, stuff the bird: taxidermy
Wrong stock, clap him right between his eyes, the chrome pop
And if I hit you square in the middle, just Don’t Flop
I plot cause I ain’t wit’ the chit chat king
Ain’t nobody out in London with this heavy shit I bring
No jokin’ – (*chk-chk*) This a big man ting!
He real hopeless
I thought about lettin’ him live, I feel fo’ him
Cigarettes in London, I picked (pic’ed) you outside the box and still smoked him
I’m real potent, that’s actually felt Gs
Chest shot – (*gasps*) – he gaspin’ for self – (*gasps*) – askin’ for help, “please”
Dome shot, take the locks off this pussy like a chastity belt key
The burners will bark, funeral arrangements
I tell ya mother, this murder will cost
It’ll be a Total Slaughter, (*chk-chk*) and one button (Budden) can determine a loss
But he ain’t worried at all
With all his experience, he know he’ll win
You battled Tech 9, Hollow, Loaded, Clips, Shotty
(*chk-chk*) You ’bout to do it all over again!
Chrome his chin, he talk crazy, you get the Ruger to ya teeth!
Pistol-whip, butt in ya mouth: Human Centipede!
I use a lemon squeeze
You better watch whatever you say
You don’t want these niggas to be your pallbearers?
Well, let’s not get too carried away
I carry a blade, rusty bar of the joint, dinero top it
Canadian .4’s old-fashioned: Aeropostale
Nah, two scopes, I’m wearin’ goggles
Games? You don’t wanna play those (Plato): Aristotle!
I’m very modest, but if I gotta pull a chrome from the shelf
Bullet wounds gon’ be givin’ Ars’ a cyst (narcissist): he can’t even get over his self
Jersey

[Round 2: Arsonal]
Y’all wanna know why this new age battle rap culture is kinda scary?
‘Cause I remember when it was no talkin’ involved
Just always on sight like Tom & Jerry
But now these new niggas is actin’ like bitches: y’all Tyler Perry
But me, I’m 1 of 1, a unicorn, nigga stop tryin’ to compare me
Now the polls had me losin’ 3-0, all I could do is take it and laugh
Who got they money on Twork?
(*A good amount of people cheer, a few even raise their hands*)
Yeah, you look like you spend money trickin’ on bitches shakin’ they ass!
But no time for jokes, I ain’t got a second to be makin’ ’em laugh
You’re the king of where?
What you think, they just erasin’ my past?
Nigga, I’mma do you the worst way
Nigga, who you in the first place?
I wouldn’t fell your presence in my presence with a present on my birthday
You talkin’ ’bout a win?
Nigga, you couldn’t even make it home from third base
You wouldn’t even tie with me after buttoning your shirt straight
What venue did you ever pack out, nigga?
What major card was you the main event?
How many battles did you have in them barbershops when we wasn’t gettin’ paid for shit?
How many stamps do you have in your passport?
What country was your favorite trip?
How many times you been in south London with these real niggas blazin’ spliffs!?
You only good in yo’ hood, I’m solidified on every block
How many blunts you smoke with Snoop Dogg!?
How many songs you got with Fetty Wap!?
How many B.E.T. Hip-Hop Awards stages have you ever rocked!?
Nigga, name a TV or a reality show you appeared on that we ever watched!
Wild N’ Out, The Rap Game – Total Slaughter was my favorite, though
Truth be told, I just shut down Love & Hip Hop Miami a few days ago
I’m better than you in, ahhh, eight ways
They can only watch you on YouTube
The movie Bodied been in the theaters for the last eight days
So let’s talk accolades
This last past year, yeah, you had Smack amazed
While I had both hands on ya bitch cheeks: Macaulay Culkin with the aftershave!
Classics made!
While niggas catchin’ fades, I’m lettin’ ratchets wave
And I got a gun dirtier than Meek Mill in his battle days, when he had the braids!
(That’s dirty, that’s real dirty
Meek was real dirty back then
Shout out to you, Meek!)
You a make-believer
What, you think you hot ’cause you played in a few celebrity basketball games with some other niggas that ain’t gon’ make it neither?
I watched ya game tapes
I seen battle after battle in the same state
You keep a small circle and watch niggas struggle drawin’ the same shape
Well, you Nu Jerooz, I’m Old Jerooz
The older school, I molded you
I taught you the game of chess, I showed you how the king’s supposed to move
They said they want that old Ars’ back!
I let you stay close to my side, meanin’ I holstered you
I encouraged you to get up and change, but I still handed the remote to you
You had options, I’m showin’ you pure love
Your family show you poor love
That’s why I’m talkin’ to you like I’m whippin’ yo’ ass – somethin’ yo’ daddy should’ve did more of!
{Arsonal takes out a belt}
I’m strapped in!
I’ll clap you in a coma!
Madness! I could snap at any moment!
You did the salsa, tango and the quiñceanera!
That shit was clever
Big Beretta, prints (Prince) all over the bitch: Cinderella!
WHAT!? GET HIM THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!
I’M BACK, NIGGA!

{Crowd starts chanting 2-0}

Out the pocket, cock it and send a Rocket: Clint Capela
BAOW! That’s for actin’ in London, nigga: Idris Elba!
I’m here to snatch every bit of confidence from your conscience
Since you tried to convince the world of your accomplishments, I’m yo’ consequence
You lack common sense
Your lack of a common sense and incompetence
Fuck Mount Rushmore, battle rap ain’t gon’ use you for no monuments
‘Cause poor preparation prevents you from being prosperous
We all got tested, none of my niggas positive
We opposite, rifle scope aim where my op’ll sit (opposite)
The type of surgery that you gon’ need gon’ make the doctor quit
I said I want all the pressure
They tellin’ me “Wrap it up”, he mad, he scared, whatever
I want all the pressure, I tried to show Buddy Love but had to palm the Heckler
The gun jam, that’s what got Sherman Klump like the Large Professor
Long Beretta, ambulance come and get him, I walk along the stretcher
With something that’ll knock down the building you live in, I’m into architecture
Knock, knock
(Who’s there?)
A lit Crip from an op’ block!
I’mma call the Locs
We want all the smoke: this a hot box
Surf couldn’t be here to errrrt! through your door, think you a hotshot
Til I’m in your living room like-
He like, “How?” He forgot JC pop locks!

[Smack calls time]

I made this shit happen to show y’all who the king is
And just to brag, Smith n’ blast
Tonight, you gon’ die slow for livin’ fast
I cut his tongue out, give it to your son on Christmas: he got the gift of gab
Rex adlib-

[Smack calls time again]

No! No! No!
He got the gift of gab-
NOOOOOO! NO! NO! NO! NO!

{Crowd starts chanting 2-0 again}

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I’M STRAPPED IN!
I’LL CLAP YOU IN A COMA!
MADNESS!
I COULD SNAP AT ANY MOMENT!
This on everything…
I’m ’bout to crush Ars’: Harry Kane!

[Twork unzips his jacket to show a Tottenham Spurs/AIA shirt. The crowd starts booing.]
[Twork gets his mic fixed]

In this battle, I’m the prince to the kingdom, I let it heir (air) the the throne
AK-47, I lift and I squeeze one
We already established you don’t know what a Shotgun is
So I doubt you know a fif’ if you’ve seen one
But you said you was in the movie Bodied?
You know Eminem, right?
(*chk-chk*) This a Machine Gun!
Mean one, fiend dump, I’m holdin’ the Tommy
Gun butt, leave ya head shaped so fuckin’ oddly
God speed, you gettin’ pistol whipped, jumped and beat to a pulp if we mobbin’
I’ll send him to the hospital lookin’ like The Riddler
And they gon’ question marks all over his body!
I’m wonky, and I used to trap coke off the Peter Pan
Pots and pans, I use to go whip white with either hand
Back then, I always knew I would grow up and be the man
And I did those predictions in the kitchen: Tanika Tan!
The heat’ll blam, he panic now
This for the whole state of Jersey and the Town
You don’t rest your head where you from, nigga
You livin’ safe up in Orlando now
Just don’t run when I make my way to Florida…
(*chk-chk*) Stand ya ground!
Hammer, baow! I don’t often speak
Another dead veteran Crip, he went off to sea (C)
They said six seasons, and then the casket (cast get) drop: Dawson’s Creek
I walk the streets with all gangstas
Went to ya hood, got the info, long pages
But why get dirt on him, when I can literally get dirt on him?
(*chk-chk*) .44 Bulldog on me, the bark dangerous!
That’s not an excuse!
I really did do my homework…but the dog ate it!
(*Somebody lets a smoke machine go off in this crowd*)
Aw gracious, I’m ’bout to let the lead up out this shit!
Give his head a hollow tip
We throwin’ shots?
Scary Movie, I’ll throw the sub back: “I said a dollar, bitch!”
No tolerance, I’ll lose tonight, then I’m coming to bomb it
I’m talkin’ Gerard Butler: London Has Fallen
One in his noggin!
Since your shit is real, your shit is raw, your shit is soft, nigga
You can’t spell “marshmallows” without puttin’ that ‘Ars’ in it
You can’t spell…”caterpillars” without puttin’ that ‘Ars’ in it
You can’t spell “tears” without puttin’ that-
Fraud nigga! Long Smith n’, red dot on him
(*chk-chk*) Baow! Baow! Lead poppin’ him!
Put him in a wheelchair…he’ll never Hulk-a-mania leg-drop AGAIN!

{Someone lets off a smoke maker in the crowd}

[Smack]
No more smoke, PLEASE! Stop that! Stop that! I don’t know who authorized that. Don’t do that again, please! Y’heard!?

[Twork]
I’m watchin’ them, runnin’ the shit in, get all the stuff
I even hit the family jewels: see, what I’m kickin’ is nuts!
Is you givin’ it up or I’m torchin’ the chrome?
And that was your wife jewelry, it’s unfortunate, holmes
You outta options
Harry Potter: you either give me another source or a (Sorcerer) stone
A .4 to his dome, nah, spine shot
He can only move from his neck to his waist
We both from the Garden, right? But now you really in a vegetable state
A TEC to his face or the pocket rocket, the sly joint
A 2K with the sliders up, the high point
You ’bout to die boy, I catch you on your bus route
Play wit’ me, I spray the piece
Come to your job, and throw you under the bus
You gon’ take the heat
Jersey

[Round 3: Arsonal]
It’s Arsonal versus…I don’t even feel comfortable sayin’ ya name like that
How many of y’all seen him shoot a gun?
So who really knows (nose) if he let it ring like that?
How you the king? You just popped up on the scene like that
You throwin’ darts with Owen Hart: you gon’ die enterin’ the ring like that
Step into the ring wit’ me, niggas got killed for it
Treat him like little boys, niggas ain’t built for it
Level that I’m on, nigga? You gon’ need stilts for it
You don’t need insurance to get this work, you’ll get billed for it
I’ve been around, homicides
Real niggas, Amistad, field niggas, traumatized
Put tears in ya mama eyes
Yo’ bitch get sodomized, XL condom size
Broadcast ya murder live on YouTube and monetize
Pull me up, ayo Twizz, scope won’t let Darrell miss
I feed him a slug and know he allergic to shellfish
I need this body all to the neck, you know I’m selfish
A bunch of different shit in my bag: oh, this some trail mix
Big guns, rail get, Draco, drill shit
I swing my arm, then shoot it: got me lookin’ like I’m Elvis!
He bleedin’, but don’t see the hole, he lookin’ by his pelvis
Whole face covered, got me lookin’ like a terrorist
I’m for real, though
Al-Qaeda, Vegas nights, wild snipers
You too worried ’bout me instead of buyin’ ya child diapers
We some real Newark niggas, none of the town like us
I’m in wild ciphers, you niggas now sound like us
I got money, Twork, I can put a price on yo’ head
I go to his grave and ask yo’ grandfather what it’s like to be dead
You ask for mild, but these niggas gave you spicy instead
I’ll piss on ya son while he asleep and yo’ wifey in bed
Then we gon’ gang-bang that bitch
Two-deep, me and my manager
What other kind of meat do she like? We finna sandwich her
Pornhub or XNXX under “Amateur”
You Mike Vick: homie got a gun, but he a scrambler
Told niggas I fold niggas, young niggas, old niggas
Disrespect bitches: I cut the ‘fro off a soul sister
Troll niggas, act all stupid, I play that role witcha
Cold nigga, I’m on yo’ heels bring Dr. Scholls witcha
None of ya battles went platinum, ya bitch a gold digger
Cold stripper, I’m at her job, I make my hoes tip her
Next thing you know, your door unlocked, then my zoes get ya
Dallas Cowboys stadium: this shit a dome-splitter
Martin in that apartment: get to steppin’, go home, nigga
Ratchet across the hall: soon as you walk out she won’t miss ya
Your Tommy unemployed, but you claim to be a cold (Cole) nigga
Listen, Bruh-Man, you better off bringin’ Jerome wit’cha
Vio-lence! Shut ya fuckin’ mouth, and watch ya tone, nigga
Si-lence! Or I’mma let this Dragonfly Jones hit ya!
Man, two blades
Black light on ’em, it’s time to room-raid
I’ll leave the crime scene nastier than white people Kool-Aid
I’ll let the knife get in his head and see what he really think
Then carve a lil’ chunk out the top: (*pop*) now you a piggy bank
I’ll do the same thang to ya bitch: see what Miss Piggy think
He said he had a gun he’d have shoot her, I guess he really ain’t
When the first time you shot a gun?
When the first time you shot a gun?
When the first time you shot a gun?
When the first time you shot a gun?
It don’t matter, nigga
The first time I ever shot a gun, it was at a nigga!
Aim was off, missed every shot, I had to grab the nigga
Lost his trust forever: in the back, I had to stab the nigga!
You pussy, you know how I can tell?
Cause you’ll clap a nigga in a coma
But you won’t ball your fists to fight him if he alive and well
Oh yeah, I been Crippin’ since Michelangelo, Leonardo and Donatel’
Only Ninja Turtle I ain’t fuck wit’ was Raphael!
I like rookies like you who think they vets, I love those
Snub-nose, no more Twork (twerk) left like the club close
I like bitches with baby fathers like you, I love those
Nut on a bitch back and wipe it off with ya son clothes
Cum-loads! Creampie parties in her bunghole!
Two sticks beatin’ her at once: she a drum-roll!
Yo, I’m good, bro
You ain’t been the same since ya Suge loss
I don’t just tap niggas pockets, I snatch niggas hoods off!

[Arsonal tries to take down Twork’s hoodie but gets pulled away by his team]

My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic!
You can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that ‘Ars’ in it!
Time, nigga! 3-0!
You done! You done! King of Jersey!

{Crowd starts chanting 3-0}

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