Cortez vs. Pass [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Pass]
I grew up on New York rappers, y’all started it was godly
G Rap, Jay-Z, Mook, Cam’, Party Arty and Mobb Deep
Now y’all sorry and it’s sloppy
Case in point, the two biggest rappers from New York is Cardi and Tekashi
Ain’t no more watchin’
That bitch flipped upside down, I’m floor moppin’
Everybody bitter in the Apple and the core (Cor’) rotten
Cory what’s the story, you gotta third round we gotta speak about?
You got some dirt on a nigga?
Well fuck that, let’s lower the casket y’all can watch me throw dirt on a nigga
Oh you gettin’ top tier money, that’s kinda nice
Don’t lemme find the price
My nigga gotta nickel in his pocket that’ll buy ya life
I’m on like shit, north Oakland, 456
At the Knicks game, sittin’ court side bitch wit Cort’ side bitch
Nah, lemme flip that, switch it for the war vibe
I’m from Oakland, more specifically the 45
But like these Spike Lee’s seats you might trip over what’s stickin’ outta court (Cor’) side
Chopper in ya grill, show ya teeth da K (decay) he need fluoride Cor’ died, married to the game, the bitch a corpse bride
Don’t talk, niggas got popped for less
You get murdered on Myrtle Ave, I’m on ya block you’re next
I’m knockin’ at ya top doorstep
I”m like a ese in LA, everyday I’ll rock Cortez
You can die from one punch, I’m the leader of the cult
This nigga think he got the juice, till I beat em to a pulp
Piece on his neck, it ain’t two fingers reachin for the pulse
Most ya battles locked up, we peepin the result
This ain’t the safe combo that’s why they keep you in the vault, nigga
Shout out to my nigga Apes/A.P., that’s my playa patna
He said, “Nigga we from Oakland, you better go out there and spray the chopper.”
My heart conditioned to take a lotta, pain I gotta
Give blood pressure, so I came from the Bay to (Beta) block ya (blocker)
Take ya patnas, line all them bitches up, you the maid of honor
You needa suit made of armor, my blade is sharper
Take it, started from behind, then it come back around now you afraid of karma
This a brawl stopper
Two sicks in the air, this music to my ear this a long opera
This a long shot but I go from the side, it’s gone be a surprise, and a jaw dropper
I’m on top of the game, who you came wit’? his onslaught fa’ ya whole squad papa
I’m dolo & I’ll whoop all y’all patnas, I’ll Ong Bok ya
I clown bitches, you gon die playin’ around wit; this
Last two words you gon hear…is “Town Bizness”

[Round 1: Cortez]
Fuck the small talk
I’m in Canada reppin’, grabbin’ a Wesson to splatter intestines in a matter of seconds
Pass’s aggression will turn Into passive aggressive
I’m talking about Kyrie, CP3, no scratch that, Stockton and Magic
They’re all legends from the past and the present
And just like them, KOTD needed Cort’ (court) to assist just so Pass can pass as a legend
But who the fuck here thinks Pass is a legend?
Shut the fuck up bitch the one asking the questions!
How? When you ain’t got no million viewed battles, you don’t get paid bags
You just a less paid act who let a whole Decade pass
And ain’t done shit for the culture in the last decade Pass!
I’m only here to set the bar but (barber) i still catch fades fast
And don’t worry you’ll see big shots in the back when i get you backstage Pass
Oh yeah boy I’m mad hype
I exhaust pumps and gas pipes
It’s a reincarnation cause we all get to live in the memory of Pass life
Fuck it I stab/slice like an Instagram model with mad likes
I just post wit’ the pic(k) and add swipes
You are nothing more than a cash grab you’re past wack
Fuck it I grab straps, blast caps, no remorse, that’s that
Shit I lost plenty nights of sleep tryna make sure this cat naps
I’ll put ya thoughts in the air, now your words is abstract
Boy! Fuck your open mics at the Pit, cocky is how you come off
You from the era of Scribble Jam but get treated like a Jumpoff
So now you think you gon’ come here and be top tier on the stage that i run here? I’m done here
Ayo A. Ward, open the gates, I got something that’ll lift his soul
Now you’re guaranteed to jump tiers
I told you I can’t wait to serve
I’m backing out two 4’s I’m letting eight disperse
Bodies, get chalked out and yellow tape emerge
I got a way (away) wit murder cause I got a way with words
I told you I had to play the curb
You know, I got it cracking that fast and I started bagging that grass
To the point the tables starting to look like an avalanche, Pass
Then you know what? The phones was tapped, the Feds was mad I was stacking that cash
They raided, started snatchin’ that bag
And I was at my last
To making plays with a quarter goin’ hand to hand Pass
Oh my Gosh!
I’m out here on yo’ block it’s a foul mission
Fiends cop, but that door knock ain’t for house visits
I bring the smoke to where ever you live I’m a loud tenant
Bodega… in yo hood! Town Business!
The hype, fame this guy claims is type lame
You’re not a legend it’s quite strange
Please you have no value; ICE chain
I’m mad ’bout to turn red… right lane
And you know the temperature rise so you know the heat’s comin’ when the pipe’s bang
And I said you let a whole decade pass and ain’t do shit for the culture in the last decade Pass
But I still appreciate y’all reaching out
But wait ’til round three there’s some shit we gotta speak about

[Round 2: Pass]
So you wanna real talk a nigga in yo third round? Boy shut up
Man you reachin for the clouds
This ain’t even how you act outside of rap, so why you preachin’ for the crowd?
Well guess what, I ain’t gon’ wait til my third round, bitch, we can speak about it now
I know you feel a way about your rankin’, it’s a deep seeded pain
He keep screamin’ “top tier money”, but all we see is change
Nigga this shit don’t matter, even he see it’s lame
It don’t count on court, all ya battles is preseason games
We see through lies, this a professor, tryna lecture a pre-school mind
Man we forget ya career happened, that shit breeze smooth by You got that “Oh ya I remember Cortez, he’s cool” vibe
That’s why you be overreactin’ to your own mediocre bars, boy you lookin’ insecure
Quit jumpin’ and gettin’ loud, that’s what the crowd and yo’ niggas for
You been lookin’ outta shape, I been lookin’ fit for war
Them pound hit ya center, fuck a sit up you try and pull up we’ll rip ya Core
Ya energy flat
In two years you went from skinny to fat
Oh you forgot? Well you gon’ remember me, facts
We’ll crack ya head and jog ya brain at least ya memory lapse (laps)
Now all you do is complain, just bitch and whine
You gon’ protest, then keep them sticks up like a picket sign
It be hella immigrants at ya crib, tell ’em “Get in line.” –
Them peoples run in ya projects shootin’ all the aliens like it’s District 9
Hold up, got a lil’ issue with King Of The Dot, lemme give it shine
I love y’all, Organik, Bishop, Gully: how the fuck I’m not goin for the chain? Y’all trippin’ slime
Chilla Jones vs ICE? Really? That’s how y’all did it, fine
Now this ain’t KOTD or URL this real Oakland nigga time
I’m the only one that could crush ICE, slush like, lemon lime
I already killed Chilla, if he get the chain, that shit is mine
I don’t need no practice, shit is just strange
I’ma veto that lick, shit I’m just sayin
Who win, I repo that shit, give it up, BANG
Then I Debo that bitch, nigga what chain?
But Cor’ I knew you went for the chain too
You lost the chain two times, for real, twice
One time against ICE, another time in real life
And both times I heard was on camera, I know you felt like a bitch nigga
Now every time he hear a gun bar he gets Trigga’d
From north Oakland to Shady Eighties, I’m cookin’ next
When you say niggas is lookin’ “shakey baby”, you mean they look a mess or shoulda prepped
I’m sayin’ you lookin’ shakey baby, I mean this little boy shook to death
Town Bizness

[Round 2: Cortez]
Bro you just let the time pass
You just let ya prime pas
You beating me ahahaha? Kawhi laugh
I heard you asked bout my PayPerView percentage
Why ask? It’s nice bag
I heard how much he got paid and I laughed
Damn near caught a heart attack Organik that’s light cash
But on this card he act (cardiac) like my money ain’t triple… Bye Pass (bypass)
I innovated, I created my own path
I started my own PayPerView and created my own cash
I got merch at the venue, I’m caking it off raps
Cause my word is law and everything that came from Cort’s (courts) facts
Bro ya green’s short like you’re rakin’ mo’ grass
Dawg ya so trash, your songs are so blah
And blogs are so ehhh!
First it was back packs, you know, his songs were pro black
Now it’s Mr. Me Too, he’s in the car with all straps
Dawg shut the fuck up
You tryin’ to be like everybody else dawg! No cap
He prolly grew ya beard out to get on with the bro Smack
That’s a fact!
Cause you’re a follower
Well go ahead I’ll toss bullets, you heard how Cor Snaps
Yeah I put some plays in motion but I had to draw back
He even ran my old routs but you was on the wrong path
Hail Mary, in the end you just go along (a long) Pass
Hail Mary, you catch that?
No! Scratch That! Hail Mary
Grab ya cross fast and say ya prayers
Lookin’ at me like what? This ain’t a favor?
Want Smoke? I keep me a loud “boom”
I bet it wake the neighbors
Plus I know every last move you’ve created, player
Word Play, “created player”
But I ain’t playin’ with Rooks
See this a body but first he made me give you a look
Brooklyn got him shook they can’t figure me out
That’s why I keep me two twins that’ll single him out
Go ahead and wig, I gotta clip that’ll sit on ya scalp
See I wanted all the smoke, but this shit is a drought
BOY you fishin’ for clout
Lemme break this shit down
You ain’t no hustler in Oakland, you don’t make no quick thou’s
Every thing you hand, shake, you don’t even get pounds
Me? Serving you’s the only way you’ll get loud
I know you was stressed out, writing for me ya mind be stressed out
Too many squares in the circle them lines get stretched out
But tryin’ to judge Cort’ (court) you gotta back up them statements
Bullets’ll parallel park and break his back up in places
Cause when u parallel park you break and back up…nah!
Nah fuck that I’ll grab his body and slam him to the ground til he’s snapping in places
And get a rush from the sound of him cracking the pavement
And now he’s in a wheelchair, paralyzed for all that slick talk on the mic
But at least you got good parkin’ for life
And like I said thanks for reachin’ out, but wait ’til round three there’s some shit we gotta speak about

[Round 3: Pass]
You don’t gotta real identity nigga, you play timid
No real culture behind you, but you gotta great pivot
I seen you say you Mexican, Spanish, Puerto Rican- nigga which one is it? They all way different
This whole Latin act is just a fake gimmick
To me you like its like a European sayin’ you Puerto Rican just so you can say “nigga” and get away wit’ it
I been disgusted, this shit is gettin’ interrupted
My pen adjusted to write a definitive dissertation on real shit, cause real niggas love it
You just started dancin’ while you rap, cause the bitches love it
I got philosophies, science mixed up in the middle of it
But this Mexican from Math class, i mean this essay (ese) on a different subject
Oh you think you nice cause you did the salsa?
You hit the bachata and did the cha cha- bitch you ca ca
You gotta real voice in the Latin community, you get it papa? That shit is nada
I ain’t hear nothin from you when Trump was tryna get rid of Daca, you an imposta’
I’m a fuckin’ legend, this like a blessin’ comin from Reverend Run just one’ll send you up to Heaven
If you ever headline any event, that shit will be unattended
Oh you Spanish, well where you done descended from? Now everyone offended
Real Latinos lookin’ at you you like a joke, this ain’t what Pun intended
I don’t fuckin get it nigga
Like how you gonna clown somebody like B. Dot for bein’ positive? That’s a clown vibe
So what could possibly be the downside?
Maybe it’s the same reason you ain’t never seen us no real authentic brown pride
And I know you got a problem with black folks I done seen the bigger picture
You battled A. Ward you said “Well you ignorant so that makes you the definition of a nigga.”
Nigga what?
Where Math at!? This ya boy!?
Dawg you don’t thank it’s weird?
Math don’t wanna sit you down like ‘Tez explain this shit. Make it clear. What exactly is you sayin’ here?”
To me that shit don’t really even out
Is it some I’m leavin out?
Math you gotta look at him like, “It’s some shit we gotta speak about.”
Bitch I dare you to do the ‘Macarena’
Oh you not gonna do the ‘Macarena’?
Why you actin’ diva?
You just mad I had a bad Latina
She say she don’t fuck wit’ you cause you sold out, like a packed arena
This Mexican beef ain’t wrapped I’m comin back to pack fajitas (for heaters)
He asked about his abuelita, “What happened?” Well I haven’t seen her
While you at it, clap, now you can holla at Selena
I said I clown bitches
First round I told you play around wit’ this
And the last two words you ever gon’ hear is “Town Bizness”

[Round 3: Cortez]
Everybody said I should be the champ
Nah look…
At ICE year and my year… I’m booked
I mean honestly my status ain’t change so I’m good, they wild shook
But I ain’t drop a tear (tier), so why sit here and cry Wolf?
I’m a Brooklyn nigga…nigga, but that just mean we move on to the next
And all that fishin’ for clout means nothin’ once I get you caught off the net
See for the last 10 years they say my name gets mentioned off of the respect
And yours don’t even get mentioned like…like when I call a connect
That’s a fact!
And let’s talk about yo’ hood, the Warriors leaving Oakland after 2018
That makes sense cause Cort’s (courts) different, I am what the Bay needs
But stay calm, I drain threes, and aim squeeze
‘Til the dramas over pass, like Draymond & KD
Okay, talkin’ ’bout, “Be careful Cor’ Pass cookin'”
When he got 30’d by Brizz with Smack lookin’! Wow
You let your whole city down, when Smack booked him
A traumatized wife, cause the Bay (bae) just can’t get pass that ass whoopin’
I’m back Brooklyn and I’m sick of you guys
Just know if the mask on you gon sit in the skies (disguise)
Gotta question, it’s been on my mind
How is Mac Dre dead and bitch niggas like him still alive?
You said that against K-Shine, right!? What’s what you said about Big L, right?
Well that’s why I should swing full throttle
Yeah you disrespected a legend now you won’t make it tomorrow
But it’s a coincidence? Cause after that Big L you made them wanna follow
So you’re like Big L, cause ya name got bigger after taking a Hollow
Fifth gripper, sticks hit ya, quick trigger
When I hit livers blood pour out, you’ll drip rivers
Now, I’ll paint the wall, I’ll make a mural out this nigga
Y’all get it, Big L, now we all get to see ‘The Big Picture
You should’ve retired you ’bout to call it an end
Then you got to battle YK, surprised Smack even called you again
But then Kannon had had to bomb on him
Ambulance, call ’em in
You fumbled ya career Pass, we seen you drop the ball again
You know we confront you
Wig splitter four six figures dawg, we gon’ hunt you
The leagues pass on Pass like, “Nah, we don’t want you.”
Big Dipper, I’m that star you should look up to
Get it
Why? Well think about it, dawg, who could’ve fathomed this?
I started in the barber shop and spanned across atlases
Now I’m on the cam’ from Ukraine to Los Angeles
But I came from that hallway my names tagged on the banister
Ten years in this boy, you ain’t never add to shit
Blood sweat and tiers boy, we deserve plaques for this
No accolades, you ain’t half as lit
Classic after classic list ad you are classic-less
But think about it, think about your career when it comes to this battle shit
Che Corleone, you’re fuckin’ Dizaster bitch
I’ll use everything that I got against you
I let it rain for 40 nights, you’ll think God’s against you
You’re a square and guess what I gotta box that’s fits you
Cause I’m doper than the drugs that ya moms was into
I’m talkin’ ’bout you cats scared stiff
Cause them black lead clips reminds you of her how it crack heads bitch
Go ‘head, I”m lookin’, where the crooks at?
You look bad, I set the line and guess what? I wish you would Pass
I terrorize the Bay, bombs in my book bag
Now you can’t go home cause you ain’t got no hood Pass
You ain’t got no fans, nothing to latch on to
No legacy, you’re not a legend, that’s all true
You’re lazy and lackluster bro, that’s all you
The Hall of Fame of battle rap ’bout to Pass on you
Now he’s dead, finito, it’s curtains
In 2019 there’s a few names that need to see me in person
Pat, Iron and Illmac, I’m making em nervous
And if you copped the PayPerView, bro, thanks for purchase

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s