Tay Roc vs. K-Shine (Rematch) [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
AYOOOOOOO!!!!
Aye, the nigga that lose the fight, come back to clap somethin’?
That’s me my nigga
I’ll spin a block if they said I was beat by niggas
I creep by niggas like DNA, mind ya B.I. nigga
It’s K.I.O.S.K.’s “kiosks” nigga
If D ride witcha, the Heckler spit
His head’ll split
Leave DNA all over K now he a weapon for evidence
{ch-ch} Double barrel; elephants
D. Eagle; elegance
Like rockin’ sandals in Dubai, the Desert kicks
You hella bitch, catch him lackin’ then leave him lackin’ intelligence
Nah nah, I air when it’s water, Earth where you goin’ if fire, the four elements
I put the clip in, get to flippin’, I’m a gold medalist
You go in the dirt cheap, but ya casket is sold separate
Let’s settle this
Boy you better have fire on ya
A bulletproof vest won’t work if you got it on ya
It won’t matter if I pop up at night (knight) in shining (and Shine in) armor
Dome shot, ya bitch gon’ lose her knight in shining armor
Shine a goner, K don’t got range, but mine is longer
If I hit you I positively got DNA, I’m the father
Aim Glocks, like Las Vegas weather, flame hot
{gun clicks} I bang Top and you gon’ evaporate before Rain drop
{gun clicks} Stomach shot {gun clicks} chest shot {gun clicks} neck shot {gun clicks} brain shot
Cops gon’ find more empty cases than GameStop
{gun clicks} Gauge cock, if NWX don’t act right, boy this’ll hit Rain Top
And his DNA’ll Shine through a black light
Hair trigger, I pull once but it clap twice
Grippin’ the bitch with two hands, the hair pullin’, that’s a cat fight
I run up on his whip with a black rif’, his brains poppin’ up on the dash, it ain’t the check engine and gas light
That’s light, my shooter creep, put you to sleep
Pull up on ya whip, hit ya door and dash that’s Uber Eats
I’m too unique, touch me, I’ma use the heat
You gon’ lose this battle, then lose ya life, that’s a losin’ streak
I can {gun clicks} let a shot bust ya or I can {knife swiping multiple times} wit’ a box cutter
The blade runnin’ from corner to coroner, it’s a block hugger
Or it’s the red beam in his eyes; Scott Summers
Ya bitch a thot, best believe if Roc wanna, when I caller (call her) I D (ID) it, we don’t do blocked numbers
You is not gutter
In URL I’m the top gunner
Glock dumper, get one through ya clothes; dry humper
Cock sucker
DNA this who you gon’ watch suffer
Baow, the sawed off ain’t chopped lumber
I catch Shine and Top in the whip as soon as Top pull over
I hit Top in his top and make him topple over
You’re not a soldier
Shots explode and send him inside a coma
He gon’ wake up and feel it in his chest and it’s not pneumonia
The Glock a loner, that mean that I’m not the owner
Did you know what this’ll do to a black male (blackmail)? I’ll expose ya
Why this man rappin’ like his can’ clappin’?
He Al Pacino, just a man actin’ from Manhattan
I can let hands smack him or it’s vehicular homicide, he get ran over with his heat
So the (soda) can’ flatten
It can happen
You gettin’ tied to a whip
Like Mortal Kombat’s Liu Kang all ya saw was a man draggin’ (dragon)
Get hit up, then go in the bag when the coroner’s pick you up
Ya mother can’t even stare at the body
She screamin’ “Zip ‘Em Up!”
Light bars

[Round 1: K-Shine]
Aye Smack
Alexa, play Freddie Jackson
So you got ‘Roc(k) With Me Tonight’ for old time sake
Ow baby
Aye I should yoke you up again
Somethin’ should’ve told him “Come with his Glock”
This Gun Title was “Make A Choice”, you want it or not?
Dig in the grave, you earnin’ a spot
You live in a Cave, you used to havin’ ya furniture Roc(k)
Nigga it was Emperor’s New Groove I take this Llama out and spit
Scope, camera shy, hide behind a lens, everybody die
I spot him by his friend, nigga Surf will never make it to his mama house again!
I want all these ballers in a suit, this the Draft Night
.40 on, pump two (too), this the gas price
Fuck the Cave, I got 200 in a milliliter like a half pint
Strap jaw, I get my clap on {claps}, that’s light
Silencers, you hear the whispers? Better keep Roc steady (Rocksteady)
Or it blow out and the heart stop outta nowhere, shit done got heavy
I’m lettin’ you know
You get outta line, I’m gonna hurt you
Wiggin’, flowers for the cast, murder Urkel
Hospital, IV’s, they try to nurse you
Need dock (doctor) for a higher stance, this patient’s (patience) not a virtue
He was scared to the socks, but I bought it from the [?] like rehearsal
Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Tsu’ll (sewer) have a slice
Razor, I rub it in his face; braggin’ rights
Scope, I get the signal on the roof; satellite
I left a dickhead on a pussy; hermaphrodites, that was light
But keep it a band, you like my stuff, I needed a plan
The knife got stuck, creep on ya man
Light popped up, beam on the can’
If it go from me to ya man (Meteor Man) I’ma light Roc(k) up
[?], he ’bout to take a dive without the wave
Kevin Hart Let Me Explain
I get to lightin’ up the stage
Yogi and Mr. Ranger, we stoppin’ by the Cave
Ruger, I’m a jeweler, Roc(k)’ll get appraised
I’m on a rage
Chop cop, one in the top
I start from where it stem and leave everybody comin’ to plot
That’s Ave, YK, any Cave Nigga that try to come for the spot
Where the fuck you niggas been? Under a Roc(k)?
The Heckler will cock, Ave get it at the event like a Tetanus shot
Everybody Hates Chris Jew next to Roc(k)
His chest get knocked, everything above the neck get shot
Got him droppin’ ideas like a suggestion box
Hammer on tuck, I get to blammin’ y’all up
Smackin’ (Smack and) NuNu Nellz, the chances y’all fuck
I run him over in the Dodge if the hammer don’t bust
Niggas on the floor stuck
We ain’t land on Plymouth Rock, the Plymouth landed on us
I turn his man to sawdust and get to dumpin’ his ashes
Jamie Foxx in Booty Call made her jump with the plastic
Nigga his upper body, gone, cops like, “How the fuck did this happen?”
They lookin’ at Roc(k) bottom like a recoverin’ addict
Y’all think I came to play wit’ this faggot? No way!
Nigga this address (a dress) for you; role play
Get Roc boo in a second; NOME 8
Clap you, with the Little Rascal
But if it buck we be (Buckwheat) sayin’, “O Tay!”
Nigga, let’s make this clear, I got the drop
DNA on Kannon like I’m cryin’ for the cops
If Tuna on the Chef he gettin’ fried on the spot
Got Bizzy on Ave like the grind never stops
But my blicker, bartender, nigga I want mine on the Roc(k)s
Pac-Man 11 wit’ the Dots, all of them amaze (a maze)
Get ya clique, I wish you try to storm in witcha blade
I get to cuttin’ every [?] like a tournament of spades
40 on his bitch, I pour it on her face
Two blazers, Tomb Raider Laura in the Cave
Nigga that’s a Juice shot, 2Pac, ‘Hit ‘Em Up’
Get ya crew shot wit’ an oowop, pick him up
NWX, the rest you niggas suck
Y’all know my slogan
(Zip ‘Em Up!)

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Niggas said, “You battlin’ Shine. You better go hard in that second round Roc.”
You know what I told ’em? Every round I would be second round Roc
I was your first URL battle, you owe me wild props
I had to open up the door for you like it was child locked
Nine years ago and still both our styles hot
But now you gotta shoot it twice wit’ Roc, it’s foul shots
Loud Glock, pound pop
Hit him twice, but when he get hit wit’ number two, his bowel’s drop
What’s this some type of grudge?
You must be on some type of drugs
After I smoke K-Shine I’ma name him after a strain of some type of bud
I like the snub, I fill the pipe wit’ slugs
You’ll drip pints of blood
Act like a thug, that’s when the fire flies; lightening bugs
The hell with losin’, you are now witnessin’ my evolution
You said you won the first- this battle is my retribution
Now it’s execution, metal shootin’
This new scope I got for K (4K) helped me see him in high resolution
Hit ’em wit’ dummies, injurin’ money; restitution
I don’t just get rid of dog, I get rid of his litter; less pollution
If it’s drama, I bring an SK into it
Why (Y)? Put K in the middle of the “sky”
You gotta be wise, it ain’t about who SMACK popularize
And it ain’t about who had the more popular rise
But at point blank I’ll pop you and rise
Like when sunlight reflect and make a glare I caught Shine in the eyes
Aye, you’ll get a Calicoe in the face, when it’s real it ain’t gotta rhyme
You gon’ have to Armor All of ya niggas that’s outta line
Exterior of ya car get washed when I fire mine
I’ll spray ya whip up includin’ the tires Shine
The only time K was in my class? Columbine
Far from a snitch, but if ya bitch bad I’ll drop a dime
You outta time, you gon’ make me pull out a .9
Blow ya brains out then look at you like, “You must be out ya mind.”
I can take a beautiful moment and make it ugly
The spot you want, I got, come take it from me
It’ll be a Death At A Funeral, think it’s funny?
I’ll have everybody with Shine in (shining) suits; Ma$e and Puffy
The blade is rusty, I keep cuttin’ ’til he seem neck less
Hittin’ Shine around the neck like some VVS’s
How you gon’ play a vet? You better pay respect
Or the same blade will be stickin’ out the front of K, he’ll be a bayonet
It’s disrespect to think that you can fuck wit’ my intellect
I’ve been a threat, get upset ya chin get checked on the internet
I’ll slice ya wrist ’til it barely disconnect
Ya hands left hangin’ in front of you, that’s karma for what he did to Rex
It can go from me askin’ y’all, “Is this nigga deaf?”
To me braggin’ about, “They talkin’ ’bout this nigga death.”
Machine in his face, get ya vision checked
He ain’t know if he was squintin’ at a D.E. or F.N., he failed the vision test
Blaow, got blurred vision cause the barrel on K nose, but the red beam in his eyes like K knows
A shot it’ll bust, your top it will erupt; volcanoes
Ya shit’ll get rock to the side now that’s a Kango
Just to get you, my youngin’ will skip one of his school days
Two tre’s with inf’ beams, like DVD’s, they blue rays (Blu-Ray)
Or Klu Klux Klan, that’s K in front of two K’s
He caught it when it rose in the air; bouquets
They call me Roc cause I used to sell it a few ways
Meanin’, I gave the powder to the pitchers like Kool-Aid
But now, I get money for wiggin’, I’m too paid (toupee)
Who brave? You’ll get ya wig split like I do braids
I’ll dig you a new grave
He won’t know if me or Surf cooked him
Cause when he saw Tay (sauté) he got souffléd!
This rematch, ain’t what you want from me
You just seen me kill Newz, now I gotta send Bad company
Fuck a scheme, angle, punch, it’s ’bout a gun to me
A gun-
(Is the only thing that get the job done for!)

[Round 2: K-Shine]
Alexa, play Queen
Nigga we will, we will Roc(k) you
Roc(k) you
He be like, “Niggas keep talkin’ gas, they gon’ make me get the pump
Pump on his neck, Nelly chain, I am ‘Number 1’
Light! Light fuckin’ bars! AAAAH!”
And y’all niggas go dumb
Hey, well I just copped a Maybach and a mansion
My crib so high in the sky I can open the roof and literally touch the sun
You see how easy it is to rap about shit you never done?
What? Cause he got guns in his bars?
Nigga I really had to set the bar with my gun
{gun clicks} Run, scope for the distance, I fuck witchu the long way
He went out like the bitches, you don’t get it? Broad day
Long K, bustin’, U-Turn, he went the wrong way
And it’s all proof, you gon’ need strong suits for this for Tay (forte)
Don’t play, fuck them light bars, you better spit it heavy
I’m runnin’ through every fuckin’ light, I’m in a hurry
Shotgun wit’ the Dezi, I get the scoop; Ben & Jerry
I know the perfect place for Roc(k)s; the cemetery
Nigga Brizz’ll get a stomach shot for lookin’ like he wanna pop
Let me catch them Boyz N The Hood
Oh this your doe boy (Doughboy)?
You ready to take this gut check for your brother Roc?
100 shots, rappin’ when it air
Bad relationship, dumpin’ Roc, and I had it up to here
Duct tape, I Saran Wrap him to a chair
Fuck Champion, I’m goin’ for the rapper of the year
Ratchet in his ear, “Like you always out witcha friends.”
A fiend told me, the best way to smoke Roc(k)’s wit’ a stem
I beg to differ, I put the star up under his chin
I’ll rip him, it’s a difference between Roc(k) and a gym
I spotted his men, around 10
I’m jumpin’ out the bushes, he like, “Who the fuck let Ave die?
Y’all supposed to be out there lookin’.”
Knife in his gut, splat! Sound like I dropped the pudding
Then I browse (eye brows) up, if you smell what The Roc(k) is cookin’
I started pushin’, nigga I inspired you to grow
I said, “If we get Roc(k) out the dirt, with a little bit of Shine he’ll glow.”
Same guy that told him, everybody ain’t ya bro
Find ya way in (Wayan) Brother, any clique could’ve got the smoke
But instead I’m walkin’ on Roc(k)’s like when Martin joined a cult
I told him twice, you think this dickhead’ll listen? No
Should’ve known from the last two times, now it’s the bathroom line, everybody gotta go
I’m wit’ the smoke, chopped by the cylinder or get shot by the Dillinger
If I got a sign, the drawin’ in my head copped by the label
Y’all gotta deal wit’ us
I heard his family was his Dynasty, the drive-by was similar
I want the same outcome for Roc-La-Familia
Every little step I take, this nigga take the exact route
Me and DNA get a squad, him and Surf wanna hash out
We get 2 on 2’s on the card, these niggas come for that clout
I get kicked out the Mobb, guess who stroll they ass out?
And this all started cause I left home, this what that nigga was mad ’bout
Should’ve told Roc(k) you can’t throw stones at a glass house
Strap out, uh oh, you know he ’bout to get it, I let him get to judge
You know I’m not a critic
Ray Charles wit’ a wrist, it’s a body if I feel it
One mission, kick Roc(k)s, you better go about ya business
You don’t get it?
Uh oh, another former Zip ‘Em Up/Cave Gang/Dot wit’ a death wish
Nigga you gon’ die if you try today
I’m pushin’ every button wit’ the sticks, I don’t know how to play
Chopper spray, I’m Lance you Harper, I don’t Roc(k) wit’ Tay
But a nigga like me’ll (Mia) have him by the death bed, Best Man Holiday
Get the hook wit’ the left hand; Dr. J
Drew a picture of mom mourning, Hip Hop Hooray
Like a Queens nigga, try to see how far Roc(k) away (Rockaway)
Stroll down with this whole pound, [?]
The Glock wit’ it, pop niggas, I’m not timid
Janitor, if I sweep the mop wit’ it
His top lifted, have Top hit it, I drop kick it
Snappin’, D4L, I ‘Lean Wit’ It, Rock Wit’ It’
Nigga that’s a Juice shot ,2Pac, ‘Hit ‘Em Up’
Get ya crew shot wit’ an oowop, pick him up
NWX, you know these niggas suck
Y’all know my slogan
(Zip ‘Em Up!)

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You say shit you don’t mean you just put on an act now
At Double Impact, you said I was Zip ‘Em Up Gang in the last round
If I was Zip ‘Em Up Gang…who else was a part of it and where are they at now?
Before I joined Dot Mobb I’ve been screaming “Cave Gang” and look where we at now?
You see a lot done changed, stop the games
When we was Lionz Den I was Cave Gang, you were Dot Mobb, we are not the same
When I got wit’ the Dots you was wild hatin’
I took ya spot then put the Dots on my back; Dalmatian
I’m the same cat, that kept it loyal to the Mobb long as I claim that
They switched on me, now I only reside where the Cave at
Rex? You and that CC nigga straight wack
Your apologies, save that
Fuck you! You ain’t gettin’ ya chain back
K was my dawg, but ya actions changed that
Now it’s payback
I walk up like, “Remember that shit from way back?”
Automatic to his throat, when I bang that
He gon’ die with a TEC-9 (Tech-9) on his neck, it ain’t Jakkboy Maine tat’
You gangbang? Explain that
Cause out the blue, you reppin’ the Blood
But I ain’t never see you go out west wit’ a Blood
Go to L.A. they gon’ check up on Blood
Meanin’, I bet her stop bleedin’ when they put that pressure on Blood
Suge, Surf, Ars’, they came in this shit throwin’ up big C’s
But when you battled ’em, where was the red flags and big B’s?
Bitch please, you waitin’ to battle Geechi Gotti to find a flag to rock
Respect niggas that died over that shit, it’s not a battle prop
Was you thinkin’ when you threw that shit on?
Yeah you was thinkin’ that flag was a prop then Geechi was the one to use the shit on
I can tell that flag you ain’t use it too long
That shit was new, candy apple red because you bought it from a beauty salon
Won’t be surprised ’til them real Bloods catch him and hurt his ass
Take that beauty salon scarf you be rockin’ and burn his flag
I know Bloods and Crips, that’s thirty rags wrapped around thirty Mags
Every Blood and Crip nigga I know, they got dirty flags
I’ll get Blood shot, he’ll leave a trail of blood drops then Blood drop
In the hospital with blood clots
Like, “What the bloodclot!?”
Touch Roc, snub pop, I’m meal (mil’) packin’; lunchbox
Get ya wig blown out, wit’ a big nose; Yung Joc
Bullets like gum drops, I’ll shoot ’til it’s hot and the gun drop
Rippin’ his vest when it kick to his chest; Ong-Bak
I see you got ya squad, but you not in charge
Big T killed you and DNA and made y’all join teams wit’ ’em
You are not the boss
Aye Big Terrance, have a Glock witchu
A vest, do NOT fit you
Shots hit you, put you in a body cast, and Big Tuna cast will roll (casserole) in a hospital
Pocket rocket, the Glock little
But the extended clip stick out the lower half like a Popsicle
Pussy, I don’t know why you wanted this wreck
Fuck this rematch, aye T-Top, I plan on slumpin’ you next
With a K, under a Big T, that’s NWX
I hit DNA, make it Rain, then everyone’ll get wet
Drum in the TEC, I dump on ya team
Fuck a deuce deuce, if you leave Shine on the floor, you gotta use a buffer machine
Fuck do you mean?
I tell the Cave “get him”, they out to just shoot
And have K layin’ in some red sauce; alphabet soup
With the same rifle the SWAT got
I be lookin’ through the scope wit’ one eye; Cyclops
Try Roc, .5 pop, epidural; spine shot
Shine drop, then I tell ya mother, “He was a Goodfella” now get ya fuckin’ Shine box
It’s about respect, I toss Shine out a window right by his neck
Last thing y’all saw was me holdin’ K by a window; Malcolm X nigga
Go

[Round 3: K-Shine]
Alexa play Michael Jackson
I wanna Roc(k) witchu all night
Get you….happy birthday Tay Roc
He’s shaken up
Tay what’s up?
I’m sorry that I hemmed you up
But you had the whole battle community thinkin’ I was slick as fuck
Like every time I’m finna lose a battle I gonna kick and fuss
You was pissed for what?
Cause I told everybody you was Zip ‘Em Up?
When you got a whole fuckin’ song out sayin’ how he Zip ‘Em Up
You skinny fuck, bird in disguise (in the skies) he chickened up
Need flashbacks on how these pops go, well This Is Us
He had nigga stuck, like, “Why would he lie?
Maybe he afraid. Maybe Surf gave him pride. Made him feel ashamed.”
But there’s no way I would’ve let him play me on this stage
You wasn’t Zip ‘Em Up? That’s ya word
{Gun clicks} Take it to the grave
He thinkin’ Surf will help, waitin’ to be saved
Well Tay’ll get wiped out wavin’ for the wave
This would’ve been just like the movie Cast Away
Cause the Tom would’ve had blood smeared on Roc(k) and start the fire in the Cave
We get a page, as a citizen at a news app
Dyke at a sex store, he ’bout to get the new strap
Forensics like, “move back”
The people like, “Who’s that?”
Tay Roc and Shells, Stella Got Her Groove Back
Tool clap, be gushin’ in the bag like a fruit snack
‘Til e’rybody get the same message like a group chat
True facts, I will spin and air like a screw back
‘Til his soul on a different level like a shoe rack
You want the proof scrap?
Bald head pop through the window like, “Evett let me see my son!”
For you, shit I don’t even need my gun
Knock outs, hangin’ niggas by they sneaks my fun
You are [?] now he get to sleep like one
Here’s the blueprint, I’m ’bout to have ’em all laid out
It’s either tell the Truth or Dare, let’s see how they all make out
Clip lift, Scream mask, what the long face ’bout?
I ain’t got No Shame, I’m ’bout to let it all hang out
This y’all Gun Bar King? No he not
The shit sounds solid but you gotta be bolder (boulder) Roc(k)
Infrared, I call it “inventory” it’s over stock
Grand Canyon, the tourist let to a hole in Roc(k)
TEC spray, like an X-Ray, shoulder shot
I say what the fuck I want and I hold my spot
Cause the MAC back it up like a loadin’ dock
You wrote for props cause you Lost In New York: Home Alone
If the bulldog give me some assistance it’s gon’ throw a bone
Razor, takin’ him a lay ya (Himalaya); Romey Rome
Magazine, if I get any issues, it’s goin’ to be Rolling Stones
I kick his boyfriend out the way, “Move! I know he home.”
His daughter like, “You ain’t gonna do shit to my dad!”
“Oh you grown?”
Monkey knots, broken bones
If you don’t wanna see how this .10 arrange (tenor range), you better hold ya tone
How the fuck this nigga foolin’ with them steel grippin’ lines?
Had the doctors like, “I don’t even feel nigga’s spine.”
I ain’t never seen a gangsta let a lil’ nigga slide
Playin’ wit’ me? You really get Smacked, you wasn’t on no real nigga time
Aye once again TT it’s time, he like, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout it’s time?”
I say, “TT I got my .9” he like, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout ya .9?”
I say, “TT say goodbye” he like, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout goodbye?”
He like Gary Coleman, he gon’ say, “Whatchu talkin’ ’bout” then die!
Under sheets, cover blown, it’s a coffin (coughin’) if he hide
Nina, like subpoenas, caught him by surprise
His mama talkin’ to the guys, pourin’ out the eyes
She felt it in the air, he caught it like a vibe
Nigga that’s a Juice shot ,2Pac, ‘Hit ‘Em Up’
Get ya crew shot wit’ an oowop, pick him up
Don’t ask for another rematch, same outcome
Zip Him Up!

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