Brizz Rawsteen vs. Mr. Wavy [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Mr. Wavy]
It took him a while to accept this battle, ain’t no applaud for him
Those of y’all watchin’ at home, this when the Lord callin’
The irony, y’all had to make an online purchase
Well, now y’all ’bout to see what I got in store for him
Brizz Rawsteen…fuck is the “Rawsteen” for?
I’ll cut Brizz, then serve Rawsteen raw
This a tragedy
Any nigga get in my way become a casualty
Matter fact, let’s bring that picture to life: virtual reality
I’m on his heels, like a shadow be
Rattle me
Got me workin’ around all of these scrubs: Grey’s Anatomy
It’s lit for him!
I’m the fire hittin’ the gasoline
Line him up, I send right through him, like the bladder clean
Shatter things!
Doctor’s office, waitin’ too long: grab the magazine!
Drop 15 on his head, let the ratchet scream
Eyes squinted like the Japanese
Fuck it! I could do two for 20: welcome to Applebee’s!
I said, Trez hit, now you the next in the faculty
Don’t be runnin’ to Roc like, “That Wavy nigga was after me”
Man up!
It’s war time? We movin’ rapidly
But I’ll grab that shotgun casually
Loadin’ up the 12…shit look like the remote need batteries!
Y’all watchin’ at home? This gon’ be what it have to be
It’s a strategy
Arm off the waist, now the ladder free
Watch him get served over the ‘Net: Andre Agassi!
You fuckin’ gah-bage!
You barely above fuckin’ average
It’s nothin’ hazardous, but in yo’ eyes, you think you this fuckin’ savage
Nigga ’bout as dangerous as a couple laughin’…
Look at your fuckin’ fashion!
Dirty nigga, but a lucky bastard!
See, your moms was a fiend
Your pops nutted in the fuckin’ attic!
But you don’t even know his name
We don’t know his fuckin’ status!
My gloves off! Fuck yo’ passion!
You wanna box, but each line directed at you
These punches gon’ be Everlastin’!
I’m wit’ the action!
I’ll grip the four off the waist…
Condom broke: shit lookin’ like I got Raw by mistake!
(What!? What!?)
I ain’t naïve! Volume 3, I’m wit’ the shits
Since Mike P ain’t take the shot, well, this a dope assist
Y’all make me sick
Scared of Brizz? Y’all takin’ hits
Whoever says me chicken gotta be talkin’ an Asian dish
I made the script
Don’t believe in the God: I’m an atheist
Machete King? Well, copy that, like a plagiarist
My machete my opportunity, I’ll make a wish
I ain’t ask for a handout, but since his hand out, I gotta take a wrist (risk)
But y’all tough?
I never get star-struck by y’all fucks
Dirty niggas, just come outside, don’t even wash up
Bar for bar, I could coast wit’ anyone that y’all dial up
Child, what?
He been on a Volume before? That’s why y’all fooled
Dawg food
I come from WeGoHard, I was brought up off of these small rooms
Play wit’ me, nigga, my mission is to kill
You been seasoned, correct? Sound like my mission is a meal
If Raw food around, think cookout wit’ the steel…
Shit, it’s just a matter of time ’til somethin’ hit the grill!
I battled Chef, you ain’t support your brother
You was missin’!
Ave battled Shine, you ain’t support your brother!
You was distant!
Tay Roc battled Stay, you packed your bags!
You was trippin’!
It’s always one nigga out of the group that fuck wit’ Roc(k) way too much…
You Bobby Brown in New Edition!
You only battle top names ’cause you got a top name stampin’ him
Who ampin’ him?
I guess it’s Roc(k)’s fault, ’cause now you think you became the People’s Champion
But you suck, boy!
Y’all got me battlin’ a fuckboy
Everywhere I go, I hold my weight and my nuts, boy!
Your big homie don’t even love you
That nigga love Troy
You Tay Roc dutch boy
Get cut, boy! The Gs press him
I’ll take his bottom half off and say, “Keep steppin'”
Each weapon, hit his gut, open him up: this shit a C-section!
Behead him!
Keep flexin’
I’ll keep cuttin’ Brizz ’til Raw all over the aisle: we in the meat section!
Another nigga they gon’ bring in to try to take my crown
No, you’se a du-rag – they brought you here to try to hold Wav’ (wave) down
That’s Round 1
You know I came to chalk him out
I’ll look him dead in his face and ask him, “Fuck is you talkin’ ’bout?”

[Round 1: Brizz Rawsteen]
Thought I was lost for a minute…
But I was fallin’ back, makin’ my bread
They called me with Mike…I loaded up cases of lead
He called me and back out, like, “Bro, I wasn’t straight in the head
I know I called you out every battle, bu-but I wasn’t takin’ my meds
That really ain’t what I meant.”
Fast-forward…Beasley begs me in a text, “Please, take Wavy instead…”
I responded, started shakin’ my head
Like, “He get killed every battle, so I guess I gotta wake up the dead.”
So how it feel, nigga?
‘Cause see, you need the hype
And this a battle I don’t need or like
They give a championship match to a nigga who don’t even fight!
For beatin’ you, lil’ bitch, I won’t even receive no stripes!
They only here to see yo’ faggot ass go…”He no nice!”
What grown man you know go, “He no nice”
Turn his body to the side and say, “Me no like!?”
With the finger-wave!
Bitch nigga, these probably finger waves!
Matter fact, yo’ faggot ass will probably go let some nigga’s finger wave!
This most ridiculous!
You rap tough, but I know they bitches!
I’ll hold the biscuit!
I’ll let it WAVE in your FACE, ’til you get motion sickness!
The TEC and the bread!? Well, that’s breakfast in bed
I’ll catch him sleepin’, and pop up wit’ the toast for bitches
I’ll have him lookin’ like Twork – it gets so specific

[Tay Roc]

(*Brizz laughs at Tay Roc’s ad-lib, which causes a few audience members to laugh as well*)

I’ll have him lookin’ like Twork – it gets so specific
You’ll catch a Bald Head through the hood…and another ring through the nose, my nigga!
It’s the Sting, bitch!
This Mr. “Pants So Tight, the Jeans Rip”
Every time I see Wavy, I’m sea-sick
I see food (seafood), I’ll let a shell peel off: I steam shrimp
Wavy get murked, face on a shirt: screen-print
Wit’ these shots in the face, no, he not finna play no defense
When you heard you had 30 days, bitch, you was nervous, shakin’
‘Cause you the type nigga that’s only good in certain cases
I’ll break yo’ fuckin’ neck in 30 places
You’ll get slammed to the concrete, ’til the curb is shakin’ and it burst the pavement
You Mike’s first replacement
Smack ain’t feel you was worth the payment
You a bird that’s fakin’
How much worse it make it, you only named yourself “Wavy” ’cause “Surf” was taken?
Fuck the dumb shit!
He gon’ talk about the gun clips and how the guns fit
But real Brooklyn niggas said you never was on no gun shit
Check-scam nigga, but in the streets, never done shit
And this the lane he chosen, so I’m lame-exposin’
Before battle rap and your Wavy moments, lil’ bitch, your name was Joseph
Yeah, what, y’all ain’t know?
Before Mr. Wavy, they said the bitch was gay
We ain’t know about him: he was Mr. Maybe
These niggas all pretend
Tonight, it all could end
I’ll break his jaw for him
The knife blade breakin’ off in him
You’ll see it stickin’ out of Wav’ (wave) like a dolphin fin!
And then…the body do a dolphin flip!
I hope they all could swim
I hammer heads: it’s gon’ look like a SHARK bit him!
When the Hawk get him, and raise up right across the chin
I’m in Florida, sharkin’
Thanks to Smack and this horrible bargain
I gotta pull a long nose out on Wav’ (wave) like a Florida Marlin
Joseph! JO-JO!
Keep it rap, my nigga, or I’ll cap a nigga
(*pop*) A cap’ll nick ya
You’ll have to take a knee like Kaepernick
Or step wit’ a cane like a Kappa nigga!
I’ll put your face through the wall: I’ll Casper niggas!
They let Raw in here
Big guns, I got ’em all in here
All you may see is (Macy’s) American Eagles by Lids
I got a MALL in here!
Long spear, stabbed in your face ’til the jaw tear!
I’ll have pieces of it all over the couch like dog hairs
Tell ya bitch I’ll have six niggas around her box: they ain’t pallbearers
I’ll put that bitch on the floor on all fours, and tell her, “Crawl here!”
Aw, yeah!
Joseph, I don’t give a fuck if you care or not
Tell Joe I got a Cuban link that’ll tear a squad
And put a scar on his face like Cuban Link from Terror Squad
I swear to God, the .40 put a hole in a bitch face, very wide
1-0, bitch!
Let’s go, nigga, 1-0
Your turn

[Round 2: Mr. Wavy]
Hold on…let’s talk to him…
Don’t Brizz look like one of those badass kids that was nobody’s favorite child?
They tell you, “Play the game”, you die in Sonic, then break the Sega now
What’s wrong wit’chu?
It’s time to take a picture, you doin’ weird shit when you take a smile
What’s wrong wit’chu?
Now you let yo’ heat spray…
Skully er’ry battle, lookin’ like the crackhead from The PJs
This nigga…
But you be talkin’ like you a G in the hood – who said that?
You the type we see in the hood, we throwin’ eggs at
Weird niggas be tough to y’all
Shit pop off, they run prob’ly
Lame niggas get a little fame and views, then think they somebody
Brizz Rawsteen, you Mr. “Machete this, Machete that”
Nigga, if it’s one option, I’m gun-shoppin’
I like shit my way!
That four-fif’, .50-cal’, Desert Eag’ – I can’t make up my mind!
They got the nine-tre
I’m fightin’ over devices like Black Friday!
It’s different here
Ain’t no switchin’ here, it’s crystal-clear
I get the drop, I’m at his spot like, “Yeah, we got a mission here…”
Tell my niggas, “Snapchat message”
I want all y’all to listen clear
‘Cause we gon’ open it, check what’s in it, then disappear
Real shit, I’m really immature
Try to run out the crib, they gon’ find you in the morgue
Think tickets to a SMACK event, how I split him wit’ the four
Fuck waitin’ online, if you could get him (’em) at the door!
Y’all want more!? The clip curl like a shrimp on it
I’ll give this niggas rounds!
Ain’t you about 140?
Salmon, shrimp, they need to feed this nigga now
But don’t when you buy seafood, you gotta weigh it by the POUND?!


[Mr. Wavy]
Niggas said you was authentic wit’ that raw tape
See, I was in the whip
Shit had my niggas goin’ stupid…
No, what’s authentic is Brizz gettin’ whipped
And when we see Raw taped, we ain’t bumpin’ this nigga music
Hostage situation, don’t call shit
We just need clothes for the body: this a mall trip
I been hearin’ a lot of “2-1 Brizz”
That’s cool – let me explore shit
This right hand to one (2-1) nigga – now his jaw hit
Let dawg trip, big-ass blade – fuck you call this?
Throat slice
I was tryna leave his neck missin’ like Norbes’ shit!
Nah, I’d rather a closed-casket, “On no’s”, “Aw shit”
Close range, large piff
Bang! Sushi roll, it’ll be a wrap for Raw’s shit
Now that’s a Raw issue
I guess the name Raw fit you
Too bad you prolly can’t get no bitches to go raw witchu
You just look like you burnin’
Whatever is out there infectious it looks like it be’s on ya skin
Ya name Brizz, you already got da Z’s (disease) at the end
He told Verb he get to boo boppin’ his shit, bumpin’ 2Pac in the whip with two chocolate chicks-
Stop it!
The only time you get bitches is if you coppin’ the shit
You prolly starin’ through bitches windows on some binocular shit
Bitches see him, nigga gettin’ dropped in the shit
Bitch, this a speed bag
Try to spin that old game, Sega Dreamcast
Ya fiend ass, I bet he sound just like this when he was in rehab
“Hi guys. I’m Brizz Rawsteen
I did a coke line when I was only like 14
Became a crackhead but got addicted to morphine
See growin’ up, I used to want to play on the lacrosse team
But now I battle rap! Shit helped me let off steam
I’m up under a different Roc(k) now, I’m flossin’
When we step out! Oh it’s only poppin’ with Boss jeans
Other rappers get pussy, but for me it cost things.”
All this battle rap fame, and you payin’ for pussy, you supposed to be a winner
If you wanted to see some pussy just look at your reflection in the mirror
I get bitches, I always keep a 10, 9 or an 8
I can give you a bitch, but I might have to remind them of ya face
See my gem, she a star, real exotic with the taste
Freaky bitch, gemstar she like to ride nigga’s face
Thought I was just gonna come here and not joke?
Y’all thought I called out Brizz because I want smoke?
No, I just wanted to let him know that my beard grew in full and yours won’t
He lookin’ at me like he no like
He’s sayin’ a bunch of things that he no like
Them hair follicles don’t seem so nice
Don’t Geechi sell hair? Holla at him, you should be aight
That’s round 2, y’all know I came to chalk him out
I look him dead in his face and ask him, “What is talkin’ about?”
Wavy nigga

[Round 2: Brizz Rawsteen]
Beasley called me, he said, “Brizz, you got 30 days prep.”
I said, “Cool – tell that nigga he got 30 days left.”
At my hands, nigga, this is like my 38th death
My murder game the best, I break necks
I make a nigga vertebrae stretch
BAOW! You get stabbed and shot, I’m a butcher with the .38 Spec’
You into science?
When the heat rise, it raise Wave and spin him: that’s a hurricane, Tech
What the fuck you tryin’ to do, nigga?
You was here some years before me, but you runnin’ ’round here like you some new nigga
Oh, oh, you was here, but they ain’t know what to do witcha
Now, see, first battle, you walkin’ like the zombie, they figured you had the moves wit’cha
Now, second battle, dead body, the whole crowd booed the nigga
Fuck that, let’s talk about The Strike
Bitch, behave
I’m the Black Moses – I’m doin’ what the scripture said
Red, see (Sea) it wasn’t fair, O (pharaoh)
I told ’em “Let my people go”, now I gotta split the Waves
First, he get the machete, then I switch the blade to the Ginsu
Then I lift the blade to the hairline, then I switch the Wav’
Then it’s the arm to the spot, it’s a Twister game
He wants smoke? Roll up, I’ll match it like I got spliffs to blaze
Ain’t he lucky, it’s Poetic Justice and I’m on this bitch head like I’m twistin’ braids
The clip’ll cut Wavy and give this bitch the fade
It’s Raw in front of you, this dope, not sushi Wav’
Nah, it’s the moving blades on the side of yo’ head, givin’ you that Boosie fade
Wavy, it’s nothin’ ’bout it
He can front to y’all at all these public outings
But he never had no car he was jumpin’ out of
He never been in the trap he was pumpin’ out of
He missed the Uber/Lyft/train passes and public housin’
Don’t fuckin’ doubt it
We rivals, Wav’
I’m the champ, you here for the title (tidal) Wav’
But you gon’ get wiped out, I’m the tidal wave
“I want Brizz! I want Brizz! Give me Bri-“
Well, why you feel so entitled, Wav’?
Ain’t you from Brooklyn? Go get ya music on Tidal, Wav’
Check it, I’ll write ya life story, in a book
I’ll make the title Wav’
But ain’t nobody gon’ make it past the title, Wav’
BAOW! Bullets go right through Wav’
Heat up and spin inside him: he a microwave
Reminder: I’m doin’ the favor
This was supposed to be Michael, Wav’
He canceled, you jumped on Michael wave
I’m hot-headed, and I’m ’bout to lose my cool, Wav’
I’m here to give Wavy contusions
You here to cause crazy confusion
I’m the God, I can tell you what the weight of the moon is
I’m not sure what Wavy is doin’
I’m not sure if y’all know about water, and the way Waves can create an illusion
Like a mirage, when the waves look like they are, but they ain’t really movin’
I.e., him and his raps – lot of shit he ain’t really doin’!
Let’s not make a small problem seem major
I’m a grown man wit’ a Glock 17-ager
One shot’ll drop seven teenagers
You in what I call “SUV danger”
Meaning I tie hoes (Tahoe) up in a Suburban
But if it escalate (Escalade), I’ll put a round on his back like a Jeep Wrangler
You never bought a car before?

I never bought a car before

Nice to meet strangers, and I could talk to a person
And really, bitch, I figured you’d be much taller in person
The name’s Brizz, I’ll carve it in cursive
On your jaw ’til it’s hurtin’, and it’s hard to reverse it
They’ll ask, “What happened?” but it’s too hard to talk to the nurses
When the hole’s so big, they gotta call in a surgeon
They like, “Got-damn, Wavy! Was all of it worth it?”
Brizz and his niggas strapped up, all of ’em Purgin’
.9’s and .5’s, all of ’em workin’
9 to 5, all of ’em workin’
I’m the Iceman, they callin’ me Gervin
Sick man, they callin’ me Earvin
Two .8’s: they callin’ me Irving
Finger-fuckin’ the triggers: I wouldn’t call him a virgin
BAOW! Headshot put his shit all over the curtain
I’m the shit, you niggas better hope the toilet is workin’
Darkside, nigga
Next round, we gon’ talk!

[Mr. Wavy]
The shit ain’t gon’ add up

[Round 3: Mr. Wavy]
Another nigga wit’ a price on his head
Fuck is the bid on him?
This that gasoline all over the body, flick a cig’ on him
It’s lit for him
They threw your name all in the pot, the passion brewed
Aye, morning, evening, afternoon, I feel like I have to feud
This is my shit, I ain’t askin’ who
Passin’ through, on my bully, lil’ bump like the acne new
I ain’t ask for you
…Aight, I’m lyin’, I did kinda ask for you
But now you bruised, and I know you ashamed to lose
That’s why I’m off to black on a nigga like Langston Hughes
Author? Black nigga? Lang-?
Y’all seem confused by h-his rage…and his aggression, wit’ the flexin’
I see it came from somewhere, y’all just might not have a clue
S-See, in the real world, you nobody
But in battle rap, oh-oh-oh, now he’s cool
See, he act like he’s this family jewel
And he got this main praise because he been on the main stage wit’ those average moves
But what’s the main stage to a nigga that been on the main stage and the avenues?
You just scribbled in your notepad and became a goon
You joined lanes and crews, I stood in my lane and cruised
You don’t talk like I talk, I ain’t the same as you
I don’t just wave a tool
I get money, and my ladders new
AKA green and (in) can’ like a Mountain Dew
You don’t know what this amountin’ to
I mean, your dirty ass just lookin’ like you do mad wicked shit
Like kill a cock-a-roach wit’ his bare hands…look at it…and go and view that shit
Brizz look like he’d do that shit
You know the type of nigga, you try to show him somethin’ in your phone, and he just start goin’ through yo’ shit?
Brizz look like he’d do that shit!
Invite him to your crib, he put a booger on your wall, and you SEE HIM, and he lie and say he ain’t do that shit?
Brizz look like he’d do that shit!
Eatin’ a sandwich, drop it on the ground like, “FUCK!”…but then look around, pick it up and chew that bitch?
BRIZZ look like he’d do that shit!
You lookin’ like that’s light, tho’
Well, aight, bro
Each vein here is ice-cold
One-on-one: let’s have an iso
The punch knock him out like a spiked bowl
I walk up, take a piece out: that’s lipo
The lead pop, headshot, but nobody wanna see it – where’d the hype go?
This bitch don’t fuck wit’ niggas: she a dyke, bro
But this jawn give it to niggas: we don’t wife those
They lightin’ off, side-to-side: they in strife mode
Take me for a light joke, I don’t duck no type smoke
Nigga, you type broke!
Tryna downplay my name, like I joke too much
Nigga, I’m hella dope, and I let Berettas go
G’head, call me a clown, ‘til I pop out
Then watch niggas turn into Diddy on the Ellen show
Shame on you!
I don’t care if ya lil’ gang on you
If Wav’ on you, I’ll wave on you wit’ a .38
Give that big head a lil’ cap like Hey Arnold!
Expectin’ me to just walk in dead (Walking Dead), ain’t that the crazy shit?
I guess I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t get on some Mr. Wavy shit
I’ll end his life
I’m on the Darkside: I ain’t friends wit’ Christ
Blade, blade across his screen: Fruit Ninja slice
I’ll send advice:
If I’m on yo’ ass, you can’t defend a strike
Bend a right – SKRRT! – shots dumpin’ by the end of night
They miss? I send ‘em twice
But he gon’ hate it if I pop up: the “Check Engine” light
I’m on yo’ ass ‘cause I don’t think you hot
Leave him, Roc
You perform, I perform, but it’s two different spots
The workout a lil’ different: Planet Fitness to Equinox
You war-ready and in vest (invest)? I hope you keep a stock
Squeeze a Glock
I’m a Wizard wit’ the .9: Gilbert Arenas shot!
BANG! Paramedics like, “CLEAR! WE NEED A DOC!”
Ain’t have to be bumpin’ Q-Tip to make yo’ breathin’ stop (Breathe & Stop)
I could beat you the fuck up! I don’t need a Glock!
I’m old-school, like niggas doin’ old moves wit’ the speaker box
Granny comin’ from church, runnin’ right to the reefer spot
Street Fighter arcade games up in the pizza shop!
Nigga, I seen a lot!
You probably had pictures wit’ your birthdays
Your only flaw was your cake had your candles on it
Nigga, in my hood, niggas don’t see their birthdays
It’s just their picture on the wall – the floor had the candles on it!
Who you killed!? Nobody!
Nigga, I’m in the field!
Double-barrel, front of his face look like a Beamer grill!
Headshot! Fuck is you talkin’ ‘bout!?
…I should still go in on this nigga
I don’t even like…nothin’ about this nigga…
I been the- fuck…
(*Wavy struggles to get his train of thought back*)
Time, man

[Round 3: Brizz Rawsteen]
Yo, nigga, this your chance in a life
But for me, this shit nothin’ new, uncomfortable
Every year, it’s gon’ be another you
Mr. Wavy…nigga, who you think you frontin’ to?
You just shot your video in another nigga’s BMW
That’s not a wavy guy…that’s a Wavy lie
I know in Brooklyn, you waitin’ on that train for your wavy ride
But you could get your own BMW if Wavy tried
When the strongest tested, the weaker show
And you done came here and showed us your weak lil’ flow
And after tonight, you gon’ always be “Lil’ Bro”
Now, see, you hype, weak, and basic
Outta all the niggas I battled, you might be the lamest
Yo’ career ain’t really been shit, you might need to face it
You really shouldn’t even be here – you just Mike P’s replacement
I know you, nigga
But stop actin’ like I owe you, nigga
I mean, I did this fo’ you, nigga
They called you ‘cause I told ‘em to – I literally chose you, nigga
See, this Wavy, y’hear me, shorty?
He was the type bitch I gave my bags to carry for me
He was in the URL some years before me
But he had not one rare performance, so we rarely saw him
He came in wit’ Ty Law, Ah Di Boom, Prez Ma-
We had to pardon yo’ ass
Dawg couldn’t last
Rookies & Vets came, they made it look like you was part of my class
You died, b-but, look, man, a tree grows in Brooklyn
That’s what it sound like
But wait, that don’t sound right
‘Til I’m in Marcy wit’ a Thompson from Tompkins, King
This shit could lift your Crown Heights
Come see me for the fight!
Get knocked out, then stomped out, we gon’ see what it’s like
The way I walked on Wav’ (wave), they’ll say, “Jesus Christ!”
We ain’t throwin’ no peace signs!
I got Harlem niggas to give him a bullet Uptown (bow), or on his Lower East Side!
It’s over for Wav’!
Shorty said, “Change your name to ‘Brizz’, Rawsteen, ‘cause you over the Wav’ (wave)”
You ever heard of a birth defect?
Well, he’s Tsunami son: he got a Surf defect
Now it’s some Surf in him, but it ain’t surfaced yet
You want Surf respect, but you ain’t work for that
You can’t just walk in the store and then purchase that
What Wav’ think?
The difference between two high points is wavelength
Bitch, I’ll put you between two high points: Wav’ length!
Who got Joseph talkin’?
I said, “Let’s go”, but this bitch ain’t wanna move on some Rosa Parks shit
European strap, I’ll rush a (Russia) nigga wit’ it, but I think Joseph stallin’ (Stalin)
If Joseph talkin’, I’ll send bullets bigger than cockroaches in Joe’s Apartment!
I don’t like Joseph’s kind!
Told him he could win, but they got Joseph conned
‘Cause in this movie, he gettin’ Bodied: now you’re Joseph Kahn!
A bullet’ll slow him down mid-round like Joseph Con’!
Man, fuck you, I’m worried ‘bout my next two victims
AK-47 stretch you niggas!
I’ll have them bitches jumpin’ out the chopper, landin’ on Wav’ (wave) like a Coast Guard rescue mission!
Don’t talk ‘bout MC’s that remind you of me
You liable to see beefin’, tribal wit’ me!
Whole different kind of a beast!
African Pride, ride wit’ the Chief!
You probably will be, stabbed ‘til the knife is inside of yo’ cheek!
And after the fight, I’ll let yo’ wife ride me to sleep for the bragging rights, even though the pussy kinda was weak!
Styles of rhymin’ wit’ me? Well, I’m kinda unique
What kind do you need?
Bloodsport: who tryna compete?
These pussies just dyin’ to tweet!
‘Til his mama cryin’, “Lord, don’t let my baby die on the beat for tryin’ to be that shit that he rhyme on the beat!”
Whoever hypin’ him, BEAS’!?
You better turn down whatever song that they got on repeat
Before I put ‘em vers’ a 16 that’s not on the beat!
After y’all say it’s beef, ain’t no talkin’ to me!
I’m in a dark-tinted Jeep, havin’ thoughts of leavin’ y’alls on the seat…nigga!
Darkside, nigga!

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