Tay Roc vs. Geechi Gotti [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
When you say that slogan in the beginnin’ of ya round
I be lookin’ around like, ”Who’s a bitch?”
You out here sellin’ bundles of weave to get money you gotta use a bitch
Nigga you’se a bitch!
I’m not a big fan of Uber, what I use’ll lift (Lyft)
Shotgun, size of a vacuum, this shit a Hoover Crip
Ruthless shit, when I handle the strap
He’ll need a lift (Lyft), to the hospital, they don’t have the ambulance on the app
Automatic, I beat him wit’ the handle of that
Then take the Uzi to the Apple Store, I damaged the MAC
If I swing and miss, and you connect? I got hammers for that
I’ll wild out over that counter like, “Where ya manager at?”
I was the man in the trap, I hand him a pack
And if he fuck it up, chop off his hand and hand him it back
I got the drop on you
I think Smack tryin’ to call the cops on you
Cuz, it’s like he chase you wit’ drugs, he plant Roc(k) on you
You was ‘pose to battle O-Red, now look what he got for you
That shit that coke and baking soda make when the pot boils
Silencer on the Glock for you
Shots for you
Pap pap pap, sound like a pan full of hot oil
When I lock on you, pop on you
Then he fall, Jakkboy Maine, I lower the stock on you
Roc loyal to URL, but this make a cat wonder
If they tryin’ to sacrifice the god; Last Supper
Since Summer Madness 3, I been on it every past summer
So y’all can’t label me under Gotti, I ain’t Blac Youngsta
Ya bitch witchu? Tell her “dip” if ya ass love her
The thing pop, slingshot, Roc(k) pull and the strap flung her
Grip of the strap rubber, push her back frontward
Like when Bernie was Dollar Bill in Player’s Club
Brrrrt, the MAC (Mack) stutter
I’m a chrome, nickel plated gat tucker
If I gotta bring out this silver, I’m tryin’ to extract color
Aye, you ever seen a house blow up and cats suffer?
My white boy make bombs, he be carryin’ clay (Curry and Klay); Splash Brothers
Aye look, my Blood patna, love choppers
BANG! A slug rock ya
Nitty run up? Push Rum to the side, I want Vodka
I already took on Rum at will (wheel) like a drunk driver
Now I gotta hit Every Fucking Bar; club hopper
Mad goons-
THAT’S LIGHT!
Mad goons, surround the stall in the bathroom
Kick in the door, give him gunshots, stab wounds
The ambulance won’t get you there that soon
Whoever they gotta haul (hall), pass; permission to exit a classroom
If it’s war, kick ya door, F you up; Fendi store
You hit the floor, when you see D’s on me; Christian Dior
Revolver, wooden handle, he ain’t seen this type of shit before
I don’t know if it’s made out of oak, pine or sycamore
All I know is when I lift the .4, pistol whip the boul
Docs gonna be questionin’, “What you got all them splinters for?”
Knife wound, leave a liver tore, a nigga sore
Paralyzed, not feelin’ hisself; insecure
Give him more?
(YEAH!)
I’m the type to run up on niggas whores
Sweep her, let the mop ring out, I did the chores
Broncos, .44, that shit can flip a horse
I’ll let you hear it from the horse’s mouth, this the source
I ain’t wanna do this, cause I fuck wit’ the Crip of course
I’ll mourn over you, but that Rex nigga won’t get remorse
My whole hood reckless
There ain’t a nigga in the world that would check us
Three round burst, brrrrrt, shit soundin’ like woodpeckers
Good news is, only thing they could tell us
Is that nigga reppin’ Mafia, he ain’t lookin’ to good fellas (Goodfellas)
Light bars
Gang shit

[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
We got Geechi Gotti versus…nigga why the fuck you ain’t help Brizz?
Nah, nah, what happened to the uppercut?
Another cut, lookin’ like the seatbelt stuck
Nigga you was too scared to even knuckle up
You won’t scrap witcha team?
Do me a favor, stop screamin’ out “Gang shit” when you don’t know what that really mean
Nigga gang shit, robberies, murders, shootouts, nigga all that
It ain’t watchin’ ya brothers fight and you fall back
When Brizz ran by, you was standin’ right there my nigga we saw that
If that ain’t sucka shit then what do we call that?
Nigga you’se a bitch!
Plain and simple
I don’t even why these niggas still hangin’ witchu
If you was from my gang, you woulda had a gang of issues
How the youngest nigga witchu the only one there from the start?
See I know why they call you Chess (chest), cause you the only one wit’ some heart
Look, the gun finna spark, like “Bro what’s crackin’?”
You really was standin’ right there while the homies scrappin’?
Then you got nerve to do interviews like, “Tay Roc fightin’ Black Face. How does that even sound?”
Bitch it sound like what was supposed to happen
Aye bro be cappin’, but I really try wit’ this nigga
No wonder them seatbelts didn’t work, you don’t ride witcha nigga
Cave Gang the perfect name, but switch it around it’s much better
Cause we all seen the Gang Cave when y’all was under pressure
Put him on the stretcher, pass the gang
Big chop, caught a T-Top, it’ll knock off half the stage
Speakin’ of that, hold on, how the fuck did y’all fall anyway?
Goddamn that was sus’
It wasn’t from a slam or a punch
Malcolm X ass niggas like, “We ain’t land on Tay Roc. Tay Roc landed on us!”
Every! Fucking! Bar! Nigga
The cannon gon’ buck, fuck around and get lined up
You walk in the crib, ya whole family busy, they tied up
The .9 bust, or I can just hold the .38 steady
Roc get it first then it’s Wave time like my lawyer ain’t ready
Headshot, put his brains on his shirt, I’m sure it ain’t spaghetti
Aye, hit him wit’ the Dessi, just tell me what you want Tay
Find out where ya mom stay, now a West nigga fuckin’ that bitch, I’m Delonte
Big meal, it’s an entrée
Don’t get me pissed off
They call you Roc(k), cause without all that extra shit, you just soft
Oh we cookin’ now, let me simmer it first
Close range, this finna hurt
This goin’ in and out quicker than Surf
Get him a hearse
When I fire that ratchet extendo, clip longer than the line at Max’s
Action, I’m in Philly wit’ the goons, don’t get lined up
Yo Reed, where the membership? Tell us where to sign up
Yo Roc, is you a gangsta or a bitch? Nigga make ya mind up
Time’s up, whatchu reachin’ for? Niggas know I keep a .4
Pussy if we scrap, I don’t fight I pull a baby out early it’s premature
We keep the score
Headshot, knockin’ all the blood out his noggin’
Doc tryin’ to figure out how he leakin’ all this liquid, but Roc(k)’s supposed to be solid
Let’s have him a moment of silence
Cause when it’s real-
(Y’all can tell, y’all can see it in they eyes!)
Go ‘head-
(Make them niggas believe them lies)
Time

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
He mention that New York shit like like, if he was me he would’ve been on that kinda time
Nigga if you was there, you would’ve been lookin’ for the nearest tree to hide behind
Plus, I ain’t get scratched or nothin’
Nigga touch me and I’m clappin’ somethin’
If a nigga ever said I ran (Iran) he meant Iraq or somethin’
Aye Smack, I ain’t even get to take him to back in the day yet
My loyalty was wit’ URL before paycheck
I’ve been loved and hated, loved again then right back to the hate yet
You’ve been loved your whole career, he ain’t even deal wit’ the hate yet
Bloggers, draggin’ my name through the mud
Every day yet, I’m a great vet’, they want Roc(k) to crumble but I ain’t break yet
I had to take steps
The steps I took, he didn’t take yet
I’ve been on the road my whole career, not one battle in my state yet
You might be eatin’, but you ain’t ate yet
You were in these streets, you might be OG Crip, but here you ain’t reach my rank yet
I can’t be replaced yet
They ain’t ready to let a nigga that battled for King Of The Dot be the URL face yet
I’ma call you “Got'” short for Gotti, that shit I gotta flip
Smack, he in trouble, you just put Got’ in a lotta shit
Piss me off, tape duct handle on the Kalshnikov
Shots pop, I got Got’, somebody ripped me off
I feel like Debo when I got this .40 on me
I walk up like, “Whatchu Got’ on my .40 homie?
Baptize him, leave him and the water holy
Then I point this nickel at his 4th Quarter homie
Spark the heater, this shit a parkin’ meter, it’s for Quarter’s only
Niggas lied if they told you it can’t happen
I’ll pull and you’ll buckle from my waist, pants saggin’
Sawed off on deck, sand blastin’
Shit’ll hit ya team whip and flip the whole bandwagon
Aye I’m the type, to kick in his door for a large stash
Everybody that got a room get a box; Comcast
Box cutter, to his neck like dog tags
Cut his throat, I do his audio foul (file) that’s a podcast
If his man run up all fast wit’ his fraud ass
BANG! His body drop on his body that’s a frog splash
Shit hit the whip, I’m sendin’ shots to ya car glass
I air a round, pop out in his face; car crash
I’m the best man, ya grave is what Tay digs (Diggs)
Tell Bae Loc that my shooter gon’ spray his
Then toss Bae Loc right off a Bay Bridge
Robin Harrison, don’t just shoot Bae, Bae kids (Bébé’s Kids)
If I ain’t have it to cop my own chain, I would take his
Do Geechi how he do bitches bundles and spray wigs
Or I could do it just like God when he made kids
Before he get Eve(n) I just go at him (Adam) and take ribs
I’m at where he stay, Purge mask and a K
Life is a bitch, then like an assist, he’ll pass it away
I bought a pistol out the gun store that they had on display
Clumsy waitress, tripped then Coffee splash on a tray (tre)
You not a demon
Tie you up, pistol whip ’til his head is bleedin’
Like, give me a better reason, niggas ain’t never leavin’
I hit you and that chocolate bitch when the TEC is squeezin’
Sit down Gotti wit’ Coffee; Mafia breakfast meetin’
I’d rather handle shit wit’ violence instead of speakin’
Like if niggas don’t want beef, then you should confess you’re vegan
I have niggas givin’ Gotti, CPR the rest the evenin’
Pump on his chest then airin’ (air in) his mouth, I’m checkin’ breathin’
I hope you got paid good, instead of Red you got Roc instead
Don’t spend it, that funeral gonna cost a lot of bread
100 rounds, I’m tryin’ to leave Geechi Gotti dead
Shots racin’ by him like “The last ones a rotten egg!”
SMACK! I don’t see hot Got’ got in front of me
You made me a gunner and you ain’t GOT another one of me
Fuck a scheme, angle, punch, it’s ’bout a gun to me
A gun
(Is the only thing that get the job done for me!)
Light bars nigga

{Someone passes out in the crowd}

[Geechi Gotti] It’s hot in this muthafucka

[Smack] Yo, just walk ’em to the side, get ’em some water, sit ’em down, they be aight in 15 minutes

[Round 2: Geechi Gotti]
Aye there’s a lot gangstas in the buildin’ man I feel at home
I’ma knock this nigga out so the person that passed out don’t feel alone
Let me tell y’all the story though, real shit, real shit, real shit
Aye look I’m at the hotel
I’m seein’ my nigga go outside and he was finna hit a bogie
I said, “Aight, salute to the dude. Salute to the boy homie.”
Then I seen my nigga Surf runnin’ like, “Aye Roc! Hold the do’ for me.”
Aye, how is he older than cuz, but you be callin’ him big homie
Man that shit gotta stop
Let me guess, you was only standin’ by that do’ cause Surf put you on Neighborhood, Watch
Get the Glock, spin his top
Code word “Rookie versus Vets”
(What’s that mean?)
I’m givin’ shots
Listen aye, Calicoe voice, “Am I wrong if I watch the homie get his ass beat?”
Hell yeah, Brizz got socked shit turned into a track meet
Had me askin’ questions like, “Is we gangstas or is we athletes?”
I pack heat
They say “Roc rap better. Plus his cadence better.”
Get smacked wit’ the chopper
Let’s see K diss (cadence) better
I’m wit’ whatever
While you was out here breakin’ bottles tryin’ to make a knife out ’em
I’m close range on top of the op’, tryin’ to take a life out him
What’s ya problem?
I’ll tie you up in front ya bitch
I’ll roll up on you in front ya bitch and tell her, “Yeah, this nigga not a gangsta he just act good.”
And seein’ her nigga smoke, gon’ switch her (Swisher) mind then maybe a shot in her back would (Backwood)
Aye, I’m from a bad hood, he ain’t seen the shit we done seen
Shoot ’til it empty, then give him some extra clips, them deleted scenes
Keep it clean? This nigga pussy, I can smell Roc close range
Face shot, nigga dropped from the bullet, the definition of shell shocked
You frail Roc, yeah, this nigga ain’t did the shit we done did
Headshots, split his wig
Just to survive, doctors gotta have Faith in you like Biggie kids
I really live
Yeah Every. Fucking. Bar
I really life, the savage life, so how you ridin’?
I really punish shit
Headshot ya wifey, put her brains on the curb, make her yo’ gutter bitch
You had the nerve to grab another nigga chain like “What the fuck is this?”
You tough as shit, when ya shit lookin’ like stainless steel
I’ll shove that shit down ya throat, you gon’ have to throw up Cave Gang for real
I’ll bang the steel
Headshot, it ain’t a graze
And every bullet went through the shit, just like a phase
I left his brains on his bitch arms, she was surprised and shocked
When I left Roc(k) on her hands like we tied the knot
Nigga I’m from the block, but he the face of URL, so for sho’ he poppin’
After this, you gon’ be the face on the t-shirts all ya homies rockin’
Bro what’s poppin’?
It’s consequences when you beefin’ wit’ Gotti, for instance
How fast Roc can go from bein’ the face to bein’ a body
Nigga this shit a homi
We family, so I ain’t even wanna do that shit
Close range, gun on Burke
They like, “What happened to Bucs (bucks)?”
“Man I blew that shit.”
I showed Chess how to shapeshift
Told Surf ’bout the wavelength
They said, am I gonna give Roc the nickel or the quarter?
Whatever makes sense (cents)
Aye bitch, this shit trash
Stop gassin’ stupid
Thought about slappin’ Jaz he kept reactin’ to it
This me every day, this ain’t no facade
But a Roc(k) on his back this a stone massage
Every Bar
Pistol whip, how the Glock is drawn, nah fuck that, .38 revolver
Roc(k) get the spin off: Hobbs & Shaw
You thought that shit gangsta to always scream and not swing?
Man that shit is wack
Yeah for real
Man that shit is wack
I don’t know who told you that
All that almost fightin’ shit, bro be wack
Cause if you really wanted to fight can’t nobody hold you back
So bro just rap, stop tryin’ to out G these dudes
Cause startin’ shit, knowin’ it’s gon’ get broke up, is considered a PC move
I don’t believe these dude, said don’t touch him
Bitch be quiet
We seen Cal’ pushin’ Roc(k) all over the stage like he tryin’ to get indicted
Nigga don’t get me excited
I’ll be happy to clap
For givin’ birth to you, ya mama and ya dad can get slapped
You can actually rap, you’re just not established for real
Got a whole buncha gun bars just never had to blast ’em for real
Have you seen a nigga actually killed?
Have Death showed up to your door like you ask him to chill
Yo’ ass gon’ get killed if you don’t stop wit’ this tough act
News flash, battle rap events not the place to be tough at
Y’all want us to believe these niggas? You think these fans really believe y’all gangsta?
Hell nah, they know y’all doin’ it cause everything’s bein’ monitored and recorded like a jail call
I’m tryin’ to tell y’all
When it’s real, these niggas can tell
You can see it in they eyes
Go ‘head, third round, try to make niggas believe them lies
Nigga time

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You told Ave, “I pop so many niggas, that’s how I know my pull out game weak as fuck”
That bar was hard
I can flip it cause he can’t eff wit’ me
I come to his crib wit’ the TEC wit’ me
Runnin’ in that bitch, won’t leave no kid that’s a vasectomy
Niggas think my hands don’t work, until these bitches fly
Boy I will clock you back and forth until you hypnotized
I’m uncivilized, why you act like you gorilla size?
All it takes is the right click and you minimized
I’m energized, in disguise
All I can visualize is caps everywhere, ya flag in the air you been penalized
I send them guys lookin’ for Got’, you got identified
Once they beat you wit’ a .4 Got’ (forgot) how you gon’ memorize?
If his house got surveillance, we cut the cameras off
Hop out and in camouflage, hit you wit’ cannon balls
First kid I see, let the hammer off
He get the nose (knows) if he been naughty or nice, I’m Santa Clause
Aye, fuck lettin’ the can’ blast ya, I let my hands grab ya, then my man stab ya
Wit’ a slow poke, you should’ve ran faster
Deep slice, give him three strikes; Jam Master
He died in Philly, they found his body in Lancaster
Cuz, you shouldn’t have brung Coffee witchu
Cause after this, I’m callin’ her
I don’t care if anybody in my squad hit her
I’m doggin’ her, put the whole log in her
And it won’t work unless look in the camera and open her mouth; Snapchat dog filter
Geechi like, “Why you talkin’ ’bout Coffee?”
You mob wit’ her
That’s ya sis’? That’s ya Crip? You ball wit’ her
I’ll let a palm hit her
Bang her in the mouth
Once Coffee mug crack and spill on Geechi that stain ain’t comin’ out
Aye, if the clip hold a 100 I’ma bang a hundred out
Lifetime worth of toothpaste my Aim ain’t runnin’ out
They say I couldn’t kill him, when I watch niggas handle your type
So I had to go over them steps; porch lights
On sight, soon as you see me in your sight
This new scope give me more sight, damn near foresight
You get pistol whipped ’til you a sore sight
Doc ain’t know his jaw was broke until they X-rayed (X-rated); porn site
I wouldn’t doubt it
Me in all black, nothin’ good about it
Creep up quiet, suppressor is good for silence
Two hands hold the hammer, one hand couldn’t balance
I’m tryin’ to put everybody on it, I’m so Brooklyn Challenge
They should’ve told you to avoid that nigga
I’m ’bout to put Got’ in a box, who wanna join that nigga?
I aim this joint at niggas
And I named this chop’ after Tekashi, it sit on the stand and point at niggas
Random!
Aye Cassidy!
Aye Cass’, you a nigga I ain’t call out yet
Just know if Ars’ don’t kill you, then the god got next
Y’all tell Cass’ to chill, ‘fore I launch objects
And I doubt Cass’ will heal (Castle Hill) he ain’t from them Bronx projects

{Crowd starts booing Tay Roc. This goes on for four minutes. Gotta be the longest back and forth between a battler and the crowd in battle rap history.}

[Tay Roc talking to the crowd]
Aye. I respect it. Nah, nah, nah, nah. I love it. I love it. I love it. I love it. I forgot where I was for a second. It’s Philly. I forgot. You think I give a fuck? Like I care if y’all mad. I’ma wait ’til y’all shut up. You think I give a fuck if y’all mad? Fuck that nigga. Like I give a fuck. Suck my dick. I don’t give a fuck. Aye, aye, gang shit. We got ’em mad dawg!

[Smack]
Yo hold it down let him rap. Let him rap. Hold it down. Hold on (x7). Let’s go. Hold it down. Hold it down. Let’s get it. Pick it back up. Let’s get it

[Tay Roc talking to the crowd again]
Y’all shut up! Shut up! Shut the fuck up

[Smack]
Hold it down. Hold it down. Let’s get it. Pick it back up. Let’s get it

[Tay Roc]
Y’all tell Cass’ to chill-

{Crowd starts to boo Tay Roc again}

[Tay Roc talking to the crowd a third time]
We got all night! We got all night! We got all- I’ma keep sayin’ it. Y’all tell Cass’ to chill. We got all night baby. Yes. Yes! Y’all makin’ me look like God right now, I love it. I love y’all. Philly. Y’all know I love y’all. Y’all know I do. God of this shit

[Smack]
Yo let’s get it. Hold it down! Hold it down! Hold it down. Let’s get it. Hold it down. Hold it down. Roc? Let’s get it

[Tay Roc talking to the crowd a forth time]
I am. I am. I am. Can y’all shut up so I can say it? I can’t yell over y’all. Y’all niggas gon’ give me a heart attack

[Tay Roc]
Aye, y’all tell Cass’ to chill-

{Crowd starts booing AGAIN}

[Tay Roc yelling at the crowd]
I don’t give a fuck! Both y’all niggas I don’t give a fuck. Gang shit!

[Smack]
Yo let him rap. Let him rap. Let him rap. Hold it down. Hold it down. Hold it down

[Tay Roc to the crowd]
Fuck that. Fuck them niggas. Alright look. Look, look, look

[Smack]
Hold it down. Hold it down. Let’s get it. Hold it down. Hold it down. Hold it down

[Tay Roc]
Y’all. Tell. Cass’ to chill ‘fore this launch objects
And I doubt Cass’ll heal (Castle Hill) he ain’t from the Bronx projects
That’s fire!

{Philly crowd continues to boo it}

{Tay Roc still going at it with the crowd}
That’s fire! That’s fuckin’ fire cuz. I’m not even talkin’ to Geechi. I’m talkin’ to Cass’. Fuck y’all niggas .Aye, I don’t give a fuck. My Twitter gon’ tell me it’s hot. Gang shit. Aye. Alright look, look, y’all already hear what I said. Peep. Peep. Alright, alright. Alright I get it

[Smack]
Hold it down let’s get it. Let him rap. Let’s get it

[Tay Roc talking]
I got booed for a difficulty technical. Aye. Aight look. Niggas be tryin’ to rap back. They set me up and shit. Aye. Yo SHUT THE FUCK UP. Please yo! Ayo

[Tay Roc]
This inf’ beam, is one of a kind
Just for you, I copped the inf’ beam, that’s the hardest color to find
This Nutty Blocc Crip ain’t no cousin of mine
Rest in Peace Tech (TEC)
BAOW
Cause now I gotta wipe Nut’ off a .9
Niggas makin’ threats sayin’ I’ma get stuck for my shine
Lord knows I’ma blow up over anybody touchin’ what’s mine
Like you violate and I’ma take a burner
Let a trigger spark and I ain’t gettin’ caught, I put Got’ away wit’ murder
Nigga you gonna beat me?
Still niggas lyin’
Tell him like I told the others, I don’t feel niggas rhymes
Who we foolin’ wit’ them steel grippin’ lines?
Tell ’em fuckin’ wit’ me
(He’ll get smacked, we on real nigga time)

[Round 3: Geechi Gotti]
Catch him on his way back to the house
Drivin’ real fast and let the heat spray
Just like this battle he gon’ get killed in front of a Freeway
Nigga miss me
I’ma vet, I ain’t no rook’ in this shit
In and out of jail, been on Lock Down so many times, I got pissed off Smack booked me for this shit
This nigga goofy as shit, you know I’m spazzin’
Bustin’ moves wit’ the mask: it’s the Know That challenge
Bro no lackin’, so I’m fo’ sho’ no lackin’
Man, I’m so afraid of karma I could never trust
Man, I done been so close to death I could’ve set it up
Beretta tucked, wet him up
Shoot him again cause he ain’t dead enough
He ain’t lookin’ alive, his nigga just prayin’ that he ain’t dead
His mama askin’, “Is the baby gonna be okay?”
They ain’t even talkin’, they just makin’ a gang of facial expressions like Bankhead
Aye man, Gotti on every card, that’s cause they gotta have him
These niggas know I relate to shooters like my mama had him
Fuck a battle, niggas know I’m ’bout mine
I done shot so many niggas, when I got shot, I said it was ’bout time
Aye, I lost one of my homies at 16
Two weeks later, my best friend, I couldn’t cry
Went to school my teacher said where I wanna be in 5 years?
I said, “Bitch. Alive.”
These niggas liars, in the hood I done put mo’ souls (soles) in the air then when them shoes on a wire
Aye, who you ever had to ride fo’?
Jump in the whip, really slide fo’?
Cops catch you wit’ they shit
You can’t snitch, so who you really willin’ to do that time fo’?
Huh?
Who you really had to dump it on?
How many nights you really had to tuck the chrome?
Stop screamin’ out “gang shit” if gang shit ain’t what the fuck you on
I really been locked for the gang
Shot for the gang
Squabble up, busted lips, took a bunch of knots for the gang
Roc, you are not from a gang
How can these niggas even listen when you rap?
Where I’m from, you can’t be twistin’ ya fingers if you ain’t never had to twist a nigga cap
And this is just some facts
You finna battle Rex next month
How do that even feel fine?
He tried to hit ya mans wit’ a bottle
How can y’all still rhyme?
That’s why they don’t listen when you rap and these nigga really feel mine
Cause he’d rather rap with his enemies, nigga I had to kill mine
Smack, aye we on real time?
The smell of death would prolly make him vomit
In a casket, ya fam’ don’t wanna look at you like YouTube comments
Nigga we too violent
Yeah, Glock ’til he still
Make Tay a tombstone now he can be on Roc(k) for real
Cause when it’s real, y’all can tell, y’all can see it in they eyes
Round 3, hope y’all ain’t believe them lies
Nigga time

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