Cassidy vs. Arsonal [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Arsonal]
I said
Once again I’m here--in another nigga’s state

Up on another nigga’s stage
Up in another nigga’s face
I said shit real, I know how baggin’ a whole brick feel
But Cass’, do you know how battlin’ a whole Crip feel?
Who grip steel? Revolver with the spin wheel, the kick real
Fuck a car crash dickhead, I’ll really throw you through a windshield
Fuck ya accolades, I’m really tryin’ to hear the pain that ya pen spill
I’m Nelly wit’ them hollows, ’round here I let a ‘Tip Drill’
Headshot, your funeral won’t exist still
He got dropped wit’ no service
Dickhead, now you know how talkin’ on a Sprint feel
.40 bang on him, I give him that Shawn Kemp feel
How the dog house in ya backyard got a backyard and you strugglin’ wit’ rent still?
A bitch won’t make it past first base if I curve her, unless she got Angels In The In Field
I keep a .40 below, a .45, you add the wind chill
Now you punch
Larceny? All I see is a bunch of new punks
I’d have you lyin’ to ya mother bringin’ money e’ry day nigga, you ain’t even have to pay for school lunch
You up here lyin’ ’bout shit that you ain’t do once
My life? I’m like a modern day R.L. Stein, these stories will give you Goosebumps
I do this for the niggas who lost they lives and they played hard
You ever experienced that immediate family limo ride through the graveyard?
Where you so hurt, even though the sun ain’t out you refuse to take ya shades off
You starin’ at the tombstone, wishin’ you could rip the fuckin’ name off
Me? I know pain, I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store, pulled two sticks on him, we eatin’ Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can’t hear (hair) you, he need his Rogaine
Razor blade, dancin’ down ya center this the Soul Train
I’m from where you had to pick a side and then defend ya block
Where poverty was real, we got excited just to window shop
I was you before you nigga, back when Nintendo drop
Bare knuckle brawls, my daddy was beatin’ niggas up on Kimbo block
You got two faggot ass sons to look after and you really tryin’ to battle beef
Talkin’ this 5002 and 0 shit to a nigga that’s nearly undefeated actually
If I involved ya two faggot ass sons it’s gonna be casualties
It’ll be a Low, Down, Dirty Shame how I use that machete to Butch Cassidy
By the way, his two faggot ass sons’ names is Shane and Cassidy
Bang! That’s blasphemy
That’s the main catastrophe
Stray bullet flesh wounds, so I gotta change my aim for Cassidy
I sit calm (sitcom) so I can puncture flesh not just graze (Grey’s) Anatomy
If this was 2006 niggas would say, “You really be spittin'”
And even though they took the shots for you, you really the victim
Nina on me, Smack asked, “What’s wit’ the silly extensions?”
One bitch they all hit, that’s a video vixen
I treat this lil’ nigga like a lil’ nigga and really will lynch him
I hop out on him in broad day, like he fit the description
Pure disrespect, while you rappin’, I don’t really be listenin’
Ya bitch want somethin’ dark in her, I swear that Hennessy different
You get ya crew jammed up, I got my blue bands up
I’ll put you down when we come in contact like this two hand touch

You get ya jammed up, I got my blue bands up
I’ll put you down when we come in contact like this two hand touch
Long beak on the bird, bing I let a two can’ (toucan) bust
I said “bing” cause I didn’t wanna say “BAOW” and get ya crew amped up
Cause now-a-days a “BAOW” is really all it take for the gas to start
I’ve mastered arts
I say I’m the devil in ya church soon as ya pastor talk
He in waist deep, I kidnap his son at the traffic stop
These punches outta this world, think slap boxin’ wit’ an astronaut
I remember bein’ down bad, I ain’t have a lot
Now I got crypto investments in comedy, mean I’m literally the laughin’ (laugh in ) stock
Matic pop, let this nigga run for ’bout a half a block
My fourth and inches when I touch down? He ain’t gonna make it to see when the next Madden drop
Ya bitch said my disrespect was what keep her wet
We repeat the sex
All you see is her apple on my desk, she the teacher’s pet
You think we doin’ yoga, downward dog nigga, peep the stretch
Long nose ready to blow, it’s time to decongest
I keep a pistol, I shoot you and the bitch eatin’ witchu
You come out the mall, I’m hidin’ under ya car just to show you the beef official
This ratchet ain’t tryin’ to [?] no Felicia issues
So think Logic-al when speakin’ on them ProTools cause I ain’t finna Reason witchu
You got one statistic
You gon’ respect mine or ya son’ll get it
I’ll leave him dead in the middle of Little Philly
But little did he know I overdosed wit’ a TEC-9 (Tech-9), no Pun intended
Now let’s get personal
Ya youngest son Shane? He got molested and ya brother did it
Shut up nigga! Yes he did and you just discoverin’ it
What you tryin’ to act unclear as if his uncle didn’t
Bitch you can’t spell “unclear” without puttin’ the “uncle” in it
I’ve been #1 for 12 years, how I’m supposed to remain humble wit’ it?
Chopper wit’ a coolin’ can’, I’m in the middle of the jungle wit’ it
Long hair don’t care, and I’m feelin’ like Rapunzel wit’ it
You got a new born in ya arms? I hit stick, make you fumble wit’ it
Torture you while the children there, I hurt your youngest children yeah
I put the recordin’ of you beggin’ for your life up in his Build A Bear
Make me mad and watch shit start flippin’, you’ll think Matilda here
This extension is high demand for this ratchet; it’s Brazilian hair
Y’all sat him in hot water, like it stays on a silverware
I blend in they tryin’ to catch me ‘Ridin’ Dirty’ I’m Chamillionaire
Now when you into guns like I am, you make no mistakes
I got an SR 9C with two safeties but still no one’s safe
If got a brush stainless steel slide that’s one inch wide I even know the weight and density
And I know you gonna miss ya target if you hold it straight
So I’m ridin’ wit’ it, I’m shootin’ all day, bitch I’m bloggin’ wit’ it
I hit that fag Cass’ then that nigga Chubby Jag and his father wit’ it
Then I hit Swizz Beatz non melanin, pale ass noggin’ wit’ it
Other words, I hit Pinky In The Brain just for ponderin’ it
I’m here to snatch every bit of confidence from your conscious wit’ it
Toss it to my man in the back field, he got options wit’ it
Obama phone, really came in handy, I lined up wit’ it
Cass’ said he was a problem so I broken him down to Quantum Physics
Cave man, I go nowhere without the stick, I’m at the doctor wit’ it
The baby in WalMart, it’s in the cart bitch, I’m shoppin wit’ it
Baow! Baow! Baow! I’m feelin’ like Waka wit’ it
His chest half open and half closed, this body optimistic
I put the baow in battle rap nigga, Ars’ wit’ the small dreadlocks
Y’all don’t remember ’09?
Should I yearbook picture a nigga, give him a headshot
Then BAOW to the back of the cranium, then his head pop
And once he hit the ground the Hulkamania Leg Drop
From a BAOW to a BANG BANG BANG, I think I’m Craig pop
Dead lock, Usain Bolt couldn’t outrun these red dots
If you really want a nigga to suffer, fuck a headshot
Hit him in his heart, have him grabbin’ his chest he lookin’ like Red Fox
This will fuck up a disc, but not one that come out a Redbox
Shot him walkin’ up the stairs, I shot son, the real definition of step pops
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 1: Cassidy]

Look, I brought this dirty Jersey nigga to Philly because I feel he a clown
Philly the town where it started at so I brought it back
And made bands like Ness, the BX where they started rap
But 2 Raw For The Streets is what started Smack
And who started that?
Philly nigga
Ask Gilly nigga it’s all a fact
You in ‘The City Of Brotherly Slugs’ home of all the gats
When the law make an arrest you take a rest, no cardiac
You ain’t got the heart to attack you should have a heart attack
I’m chargin’ Smack cause I do a great job, I been the truth, I’m talkin’ facts
You just bend the truth and come with straight lies
My little shooters keep it on they waist side
They small but straight ride
Right from the jump they’ll bang on you; Nate Rob’
Yo I hate lies, make sure when you talk it’s true
Before both my fists just bust both them lips that you talkin’ through
Arsonal, let me talk to you
You soft as shit and you fraudin’ too
For talkin’ shit I oughta just split ya fuckin’ dome in two
Actin’ hard ain’t hard to do
I brought some aluminum for you (foil)
It’s beef I fire at ya grill until it barbeque
I got more heart than you and to spark at you it’s an issue
Like that big bitch that battle wit’ big tits, my shit’s O’fficial
I grip the pistol then shots bang
Or Cave ya chest in wit’ a bat to get jacked boy (Jakkboy) this how you Roc(k) chains
Remember Jakkboy had on Roc chain?
You got the same rocks in ya chain as that boy, we not the same
Boy I got a aim and a big nose that’ll blow through tissue
It’s (s)not a game
The steel cold if I unload the pistol, may His soul be witchu
I know B.A.R.S. who you wanna be Ars’ that’s why you stole those initials
Fuck who rollin’ witchu, you never got a person hit
I spray the guns, don’t play the drums but know how to work wit’ sticks
Bitch you not a thug and you not the plug wit’ work to flip
Smack, why you let us connect together? Like cursive writ’?
He a beta, I’ma alpha bet (alphabet) this be a 30 clip
This clown be jumpin’ ’round on this stage performin’ circus tricks
But I ain’t wit’ the circus shit I’m merkin’ shit
It’s not a personal if every person know you ain’t gon’ research the shit
But every person know he never had no work to flip
So to purchase bricks he workin’ shifts
He drove a school bus, y’all could Google search the shit
Bitch, while you was workin’ on the cheese bus I used to work wit’ swiss (Swizz)
You ain’t never work wit’ these (D’s), bustin’ ’til you hurt ya wrist
If you Strapped In wit’ a Bigga .9
I brought the strap and it’s a bigger .9 than you New (Nu) Jersey niggas Tworkin’ wit’
That nigga Suge look like he ’bout to give birth and that nigga Surf a bitch
He get clapped at but never clap back
Smack, you should book Surf and Clips
Cause didn’t Surf just get booked wit’ a clip?
That shit the perfect fit
And wit’ the perfect grip on the Smith & I keep lickin’ like a serpent lives
Yo certain shit ain’t that deep for real
But certain shit like cheese will leave you six feet deep if I’m knee deep in bills
Yo I sleep wit’ steel
Cause I merk cats, make ’em take dirt naps and they never woke up them niggas sleepin’ still
For sleepin’ on me, I’ll spark the weapon like a narcoleptic on sleepin’ pills
Y’all fall asleep for real
These battle rappers stay beefin’ still
But fake reach for steel and go BAOW! So loud y’all think the beef is real
Bitch, you must don’t really brush ya teeth for real, Ew
Get them shits bleeched before they think ya gold teeth a grill
The car where I keep the steel but the V near (veneer)
Sayin’ he keep it real is like sayin’ Cardi teeth is real
Sorry Cardi, I’m a big fan, I shoulda said “Hitman”
That nigga wear veneers too
Smilin’ ear to ear too
For years I used to be buck but I had to straighten up
Just like Cardi B teeth used to be buck but now they straight as fuck
I’m tryin’ to shake shit up
But ya ugly ass face keep fuckin’ my concentration up
Plus you fake as fuck when I raise ‘er (razor) up ya face get cut
They wanna hear (hair) lines you not a barber but shape’n up
You can’t be serious (Serius)
It’s already 1-0
Listen man, you been confused, lookin’ in a tube ya entire life
And on bikes the inner tube is in the tire, right?
Ars’, I’ll ride ’til the wheels fall off, but you retired (re-tired) twice
Pump ya breaks, chump to be safe you’d probably ride a bike wit’ a helmet on
If I ride ya helmet gone
I clap the gats ’til e’ry shell is gone, we don’t ride alike
Will he be able to handle bars or will he die tonight?
My ride is like you might not even make it outside tonight
I swear to God it’s like, if the Lord ain’t on his side tonight
His soul be rose in the sky tonight
Cause this guy be like, “My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
And you can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ Ars’ in it”?
That shit is fake, you just a fraud, that shit is all gimmicks
Ayo my trunk gotta pump, a Drako and a couple AR’s in it
So if my dawg runs into cars see Ars’ (C-Ars’) finished
But don’t take it personal pussy, it’s all business
And before it’s all finished, just admit it I’m dope, bitch I’m the GOAT
Now spit that goofy shit that you wrote

[Round 2: Arsonal]

All these years, now I can see why you was runnin’ scared of me
Cause I’m the nigga that’s gonna expose you ain’t the nigga you appear to be
They told me take my time when writin’ for you, pen it carefully
I said, “Nah fuck that. I’m disrespectful.”
You gonna have to smack ya mother to prepare for me
On the Greyhound from ATL is how I move my weight
And I vowed to never let a fuck nigga remove my plate
And I never lose my faith
Check out at 11:00 y’all was leavin’ 6:00 in the mornin’ cause them underage bitches had to be to school by 8:00
My belt always a lil’ loose to get a handgun drawn
I told you in the Face Off I’ll make you watch your mother suck my dick in her grandson room
And then I put you in ya place
I do some more disrespectful shit like, dig in my left nostril then pluck the booger in ya face
Why? Cause I’m a loc, chimney weed, a hookah cigarette, I want all kinda smoke
I’m disrespectful, I’ll walk in Kanye house and tell a Yo Mama joke
Fourth grader, hittin’ the blunt, watch how this .9’ll smoke
Stomp him in some Adidas and now he adios
Do y’all believe in a parallel universe?
(I do)
Kinder folks
Me and his mom was listenin’ to his song ‘Condom Style’ when the condom broke
It’s ironic you knock a nigga unconscious then he make conscious quotes
Why provoke? Somethin’ out the trunk blew (blue) his whole face, watch me pop a (Papa) Smurf
We don’t wanna hear them 2006 bars that you got for Surf
I’ll put ya mom to work
Head back, mouth open she tryin’ to drive the boat
Introduce him to a Heckler
Why? For thinkin’ I’m a joke
I just wanted to talk, give him a pep, see (Pepsi) but he too busy tryin’ to find the Coke
I flare ‘matics, you reach it’ll frighten niggas
This ain’t Scare Tactics
Sleepin’ on me? Long enough only gonna hurt you like an air mattress
You’ll see an arm wave from a distance, think we was practicin’ fair catches
Whether it’s guns or bitches, we gang bang and we share ratchets
I got Cassidy, ohh, I’m in big man beef
Which require them big choppers, he talkin’ Hitman teeth
But I got a pistol tucked in the linin’ of my custom designin’
I light skin wit’ bald heads but we got nothin’ in common
We experienced different pains
The nigga you starin’ at, mama ain’t used to miss his games
But I ain’t have no father figure for years, I only seen daddy in them picture frames
Every other night, auntie was stickin’ different veins
I’m from an era whatever ya parents wish for, and couldn’t afford, was how they picked ya name
You still AOL Instant Messaging, we got different A.I.M
When y’all see a nigga wit’ the gift of (w)rappin’ under a tree, y’all might think Christmas came
See now, the way I structure these bars is the definition of true writin’
I’m a true titan, walkin’ through life blindfolded, followin’ moon lighting
And Street Fightin’ under new Bison
But when I pull out that A.R.?
15 nigga, I don’t mean Ab so don’t get too frightened
How you Tyson in this ring and they say I move like him?
In battle rap you mic’d in but how you Mike and I’m the one that tie my shoes like him?
Every clip a comma, period I don’t use hyphens
Question marks who be talkin’ the talk but still they move frightenin’
Now this expands deep
The way these crackers use us niggas and you can’t speak
With a voice to inspire yo’ people, that don’t mean you woke cause you can’t sleep
Over the years we both battled cats
But yo’ style of battle rap is antique
It’s either A. Kill him now
Or peel and get rid of him next day after, that’s my Plan B
He want oohs and ahhs for everybody bar and y’all do extra
I’ve been on cruise control for 12 years, ain’t no need to gas the nigga in the Tesla
It’s funny, I’ll put a Heckler to you heckler
Squeeze, then put a bunch of holes (hoes) in ya man chin (mansion) like Hugh Hefner
My preacher sellin’ dope
Your preacher sellin’ hope
My preacher sellin’ dope
But when you in the position he in it’s a sin to crack a smile even tell a joke
I ain’t gon’ lie y’all I swear to God, this the realest shit I ever wrote
I was a fan nigga
In high school to me you was the man nigga

You was supposed to progress over the years and your talent didn’t expand nigga
I really fucked witchu, I ain’t see another level than you
In ’03 I fought a nigga for sayin’ J-Hood was better than you
But then you bitched up
$50,000, rejected from Mook
That broke my heart, nigga not what I expected from you
Thought you was Cassidy, The Hustla, with split personalities, who get get mo’ cheddar
Come to find out he Barry Adrian Reese
Some nigga in a ‘Hotel’ in a B-Boy stance, that’s it, it gets no better
You wack! You wildin’ 5002-0? You stylin’
Every time I hear Cass’ verse I think Juvey ’bout to say, “This for the ’99 and the 2000!”
You lost a lot of weight, and you lost to the window of a Chevy
You lost to Goodz, you lost yo’ fuckin’ mind
That’s four L’s I count already
But them 5002 battles y’all they ain’t all fake
It’s just 4,999 of ’em that ain’t on tape
See me? I know ya type
Lotta lip on you, you gotta overbite
How you expect to keep up wit’ the new era? You was the prototype
I’m an outlaw, but when you livin’ in the South, Paw you should know your rights
I sold coke, I got Proof I get Bizarre with that white, boy, bitch I’m Obie Trice
Now I could smack him wit’ an open fist then choke his bitch
Then draw on Cass’ (cast) but not how high school students treat a broken wrist
I’m on a crash course
I’ll pop up in his future and take the mask off
After itchin’ for it for six weeks tonight I finally cut Cass’ (cast) off
You the type of nigga a bitch say, “Why you lyin’ on her cat?”
How you even expect that pussy was yours when she told you lyin’ on her back?
See, I don’t trust niggas who miss they target
Here’s the proof in that
I got a nigga that’s no longer my friend cause he missed the nigga we was shootin’ at
I’m Omar Epps as J. Reid I told him, “Hand me the grip.”
Flew to Philly to walk all over his grass and treat him like he’s Stanley and shit
You used to be at the Sixers game actin’ like you and Iverson family and shit
He ain’t even from Philly, it took a nigga like Meek to bring this city a championship
Nigga, my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell “Bars” without puttin’ that “Ars” in it

[Round 2: Cassidy]
Off top, if the lead clap, you dare to get your head wrapped
Skull shot, bald spot, you’ll never grow ya dreads back
Yo this nigga dead Smack, don’t stop the fight
If you Hulk Hogan leg drop tonight the Calicoe pop tonight
He might’ve missed the punch but I’m quick to punch, so watch the right
If I steal him that shit’ll cost me, y’all can copy, right? (copyright)
Dawg, I can box, I’m nice
Watch ya tongue, bitch I’m not the one
You said you ain’t no shotgun so I know you never shot a gun
I shot a gun but never got shot wit’ one
So what you got a daughter and you love her nigga, fuck her grandfather’s son
This nigga daughter prolly stupid cause her father dumb
I saw a pic of her and couldn’t tell if he got a daughter or got a son
You never gotta run if you got a strap
My favorite gun I gave to AR and he shot a cat, I never got it back
Tretch investin’ in U-Dubb but ain’t make no profit back
To make ya pockets fat you had to leave that league and rock wit’ Smack
It’s obvious who make the hotter tracks
Yo platinum might’ve been ya goal but I’m the one that got a plaque
You battled Charron and grabbed ya phone cause you forgot ya raps
You choked it’s true, but if they see me chokin’ it’s cause I’m chokin’ you
He choke a lot
His mom choke on cock, she be chokin’ too
How broke is you?
Your house in Miami should have an ocean view
How much coke you do?
I peep you got teeth like a smoker do
This clown was in a Face Off smilin’ like how the Joker do
…But I knew that I was roastin’ you cause all I heard was, “Suck my dick! Suck my dick!”
I said, “Dang, this fag emotional.”
I’ll tell a chick to suck my dick, that’s what she’s supposed to do
But you would tell a man to suck ya dick and really hope he do
But I ain’t come to joke witchu groupie
My life a movie, and I’m castin’ actors
Cass’ a factor, made a bag off Smack cause Cass’ a trapper
The fact Smack booked me twice got you pussies tight
But look it’s like I don’t really give a fuck; Jaz The Rapper
You know how Jaz The Rapper don’t really fuck so I assume her pussy tight
Look, I’m nice I’m not your average rapper
I black out, just ask the crackers
When I aim .9’s I aim mine diagonally, so you could die in agony
And bang mine
We losin’ when it’s game time
Ain’t possible dickhead, like tryin’ to cum and piss and the same time
I don’t bang slime, but can have some niggas touch you nigga, fuck you!
When I throw up some fingers it’s not a gang sign
Lame, when it came time I chose a lane
Over change I unload them thangs, get shot in ya face; Novocain
Burn ya body up, then ya body what I’ma throw in flames
Can burn ya body up, it’s arson, no remains
Listen, Ars’ in no position to front
Know ya name Durrell Jones, you don’t load and aim, you talkin’ game
It’s snakes in the grass but I’m on point like cobra fangs
Squeezin’ like a boa constrictor ’til I got shoulder pain
This strap over the shoulder hang when I blam mine
This pussy could fill his holes wit’ tampons, I’m serious
I’ve been plugged in like a landline
And I throw up my hands you just throwin’ up hand signs
When the hand .9 by the Jimmy, Jones I Just Blaze
It’s a wrap if you owe (‘Oh) Boy’; Cam’ron
Listen, I’ll cock the Koch, it’s a lil’ K like ya man Shine
It’s light but it sounds so BIG that I call the can’ “Shyne”
This type of disrespect you can’t find
I’ll make ya damn mom swallow the dick in front of ya grandmom
Fuck ya baby mom in the kitchen a bunch of damn times
Hittin’ while ya daughter do dishes, I’m out my damn mind
If you not a fan, fine
But this clearly a decisive win, I got the type of pen that’s so dope I could ghost write for Em’
I feel I could go to a gun fight with a knife and win
Until my god decide when my life will end, I’m slicin’ skin
Stab you wit’ the knife and then
Pull a pipe, aim and put a bullet right in the same hole the knife was in
Bitch, every fist fight I win
But I hate I have to fight a case cause a fake nigga fightin’ for his life again
He get prescribed Vicodin and get a metal plate in his jaw so he get the nod if he try to take a flight again
It’s simple and plain (plane) I let it fly when the flight come in, the white come in
You slow? Go to Google search and type it in
Yeah I’m nice and slim
Prolly don’t believe I can box until you need a doc to give you stitches so the bleedin’ can stop
Cause you gon’ be bleedin’ a lot
One punch to the jaw you sippin’ lunch through a straw, regardless if you vegan or not

I got a Calicoe, so right off top I’ll have you chumps runnin’ out the door like Brizz after the Mook punch
The last few months I’ve been plannin’ this guy body
Cause bodyin’ guys is my hobby
My body got a arm/leg/leg/arm/head it’s a God body
I swear to God all I fear is Allah so why try me?
Cross me get crucified, why would I lie akhi?
You look like the Predator by prey (pray) on God akhi
They say if you starvin’ to death, Christ be the savior?
But to survive akhi, if you was starvin’ to death, could rice be the savior?
Yo I know God got me, I show God love but even the haters got God bodied

[Round 3: Arsonal]
Ayo, this shit is quite clear
You got booed in Philly, right here
This a nightmare
You should’ve punched me in my face when I tested you and ended the battle right there!
I’m here to snatch every bit of confidence from your consciousness
Since you tryin’ to convince the world yo’ accomplishments, I’m yo consequence
I ain’t one you can intimidate what you poppin’ shit
My passport look just like yours, I been to them continents
I said I gave back to my city for real I sit wit’ the congressmen
I been had an eagle throwin’ bullets before Donovan
I had real white boys on Smack before Solomon
I was sendin’ Hollows through glass before Jonathan
Now if you so successful musically, why you don’t go back to that?
He don’t believe me his mother tried to suck dick through an Apple jack
Now if you so successful musically, why you don’t go back to that?
Cause you can’t
The only check you could generate is through battle rap
That’s a Snapple fact
These bars, Drake dissin’ Meek they comin’ ‘Back To Back’
This man? Con’, I should sock him in his mouth, bitch I’m Cactus Jack
Soon as the lights go low, nigga that’s when the mood change
I walked into Philly as Tity Boi, but I’m goin’ home as 2 Chainz
My daddy was State Property before the Philly niggas used it as a group name
And in this sport, you will never pass an Ars’/Lux or Mook name
You changed
In battle rap we still treat you as a new name
But to this faggot ass industry you a lil’ higher up the food chain
I’m from Ellis Ave and Hopkins nigga, Grape Street Goon Gang
In ’05 I had a 5X white tee with a MAC-11 on a shoestring
Give me a fuckin’ reason
Panic attack, he start to rush his breathin’
Last battle he got booed like it was cuffin’ season
He talk a good game ’til he get his with A. Smith, but these ain’t come from Steven
.357’s, .9’s, MAC-11’s, I’m usin’ all odd numbers to get fuckin’ even
You are not the villain
Chopper squeelin’
Doctors willin’ to fix him then I let somethin’ big peel (pill); amoxicillin
I got a gun so big nigga, this the one I’m not concealin’
You got a Bobby Boucher mind, ya brain ain’t do the proper healin’
Now go ‘head, tap my pockets like you did Goodz if you want
I’ma let you
But what I’m a do back gon’ be way more disrespectful
I’m special
Inf’ beam on any skin, that’s a freckle
That’s true, I point this .9 at you (achoo), hope God bless you
I’m Ali great, heard you brought some Bloods to disrespect
I’ll throw a BK in they face, KD and Kyrie tape
Back then I was Superbad, I’m talkin’ high speed chase
I was 16 wit’ a .45 I guess ID fake
I do my dirt alone, fuck a co-defendant
Know ya limits
You talkin’ to a nigga who cereal box came wit’ the roaches in it
Pain I was soakin’ in it
Gang I was soakin’ wit’ it
Told you I question marks, I let it bang and now he open ended
I can walk around ya hood wit’ all my jewelry on, but I choose not to
To avoid havin’ to pop who might try to do me wrong
I got a shooter in the car right now wit’ the toolie drawn
Since we in Philly and all my friends are dead I choose to walk around wit’ my Uzi on
You talkin’ “Bars is back”
Nigga I had bars back when Biggie had a coogi on
What type shit you be on?
I’m still livin’ the lyrics from his ‘Juicy’ song
Police try to call the police on me cause I’m tryin’ to make some money to feed my daughter
That’s right, cause I’m from Newark, New Jersey, a city where we can’t even drink our water
While you was livin’ your dream Cass’, I was dreamin’ to get a Dreamcast
I ain’t even have a bed nigga I was sleepin’ on a bean bag
While the roaches and the mice was in my room playin’ freeze tag
You was on tour nigga, I was on the floor nigga
I’ll invite you to the studio
And serve the clip soon as the beat low
He knock, I’m on the other side like
Put yo’ eye to the peep hole
I said, when this smoke; bald heads, whole lotta chemo
This nigga stay on the line, he shoot a whole lotta free throws
But drugs ain’t the way though
We know, they know
He start to scramble wit’ the cheese, he get hit wit’ the biscuit wit’ the potato
Then he scramble wit’ the cheese and I’ma let (omelet) the tre (tray) go
I push the button down on the toaster he brain pop out like an Eggo
I ain’t ya Migo nigga
I’ll take off on Quavo
No extension, baby .9’s, it might Offset the Drako
A Jersey nigga, disrespectin’ a Philly nigga
In Philly
Brotherly love is not our thing
But if you such a Philly nigga and you got respect for Philly niggas Why you ain’t pop out fiend?
Like, if you really got so much respect for Philly niggas then why ain’t you say nothin’ to the Meek MIlly nigga about the Philly nigga we all seen knocked out [?]
Now that was a cheap shot…clearly…Tito’s vodka
This tiny nigga could never get straight wit’ I (eye), ask Debo doctor
I had Cass’ lookin’ for son like he Nemo father
Bars is back, I treat a mic (Mike) like I’m Tito father
I got my drink and my dutchie
You just beat a murder? People think that you lucky?
Nah nigga, people think that you a custy
But since you was loyal to ya team, in ya mind that’s okay
See he startin’ think like he Rusy
Trust me, whatever you do, don’t touch me
I pull up wit’ a stick under the pit, so it’s musty
And the pistol sittin’ comfy
I put my right hand up to God
My first drive-by was on the two pegs of a honkey
We was teenagers, five bricks, we was trafficin’ out the Days Inn
I come from playin’ Madden on the street, really tacklin’ on the pavement
Made men, e’rybody gripped
Ya bitch gon’ dress like a pinata for Halloween cause she let e’rybody hit
I walk in ya front door leave e’rybody hit
Even the family pet
Three rounds all bars, I ain’t mention Gilly or no motherfuckin’ tranny yet
I ain’t even gon’ finish my shit
I’ma just do it like this
I know! I know! I hit him wit’ a hollow, how low, bullet in him
He runnin’ off the stage like he wallow
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
And you can’t spell “bars” without that “Ars'” in it

[Round 3: Cassidy]
When you get a God body he can either can get the fire or six feet of dirt
A service in the [?] or a preacher church
A person that’s deceased wit’ the crypt keeper first
You can’t meet death unless you meet wit’ the Grim Reaper first
You know what? I’ma go from ya toe up shoot ya sneakers first
It’ll kick and remove ya feet before you lose I’ma defeat (da feet) ya first
At least critique work before you take the stage cause the stakes is raised
You actin’ like you want action, I’ma break a leg
Wait I paid a Smack fiend a half bean to have heem, shoot ya in ya calf if I scream the word “Caffeine” (calf fiend)
This nigga bitch and drag queen
Fuck the wanna-bes, my gun’ll squeeze
And I’ll silence the K when I’m dumpin’ these (knees)
No cap, this an ultimate rap
I’ll run this league
He got four figures they paid me over a 100 G’s
When it come to cheese, the ones that be trappin’ witchu, be the ones settin’ the trap so somethin’ happened witchu
Better keep the police captain witchu
Or they gonna have to try to skin graph ya thong when the ratchet hit you
If I clap the pistol, you be cryin’ hollerin’
But fuck it, when I bust it, I’m havin’ a ball; Iron Solomon
Since I ain’t followin’ trends I’ve been convinced
Lames in the game feel my shit is offensive that’s why they in defense
The industry is gay in a sense
Cause it’s full of dick heads and assholes and ain’t no coincidence
Ayo I be convinced
Why you claimin’ a Crip block?
A fake Crip could drip real Blood if some shit pop
Cuz will need a blood transfusion he get shot
He’ll see blood then see the crypt (Crip) keeper at [?]
My shit got, punch after punch from the rip Aak
And this chump never punch like Clips in his flip flops
When niggas get knocked they start snitchin’ like Clips’ pop
I got the white and use the same scale as the fish spot
I had ki’s (keys), these niggas learn how to pick locks
I’m the kinda rapper, play wit’ the D like a linebacker
The kinda trapper spray ya for free I’m a .9 clapper
Hollow through ya stomach will give you a spine fracture
If I stop ya clock I will not do no time after
If I hit my man he not a hitman he a contractor
He keep a gun if you need it done he’ll contact ya
Ya get a private call tonight, the target dialed him all night
I knew the little shooter all his life, he like Chess size
But’ll tie ya arms up to ya chest and you get chastised (chest ties)
Poke ya throat, cut open ya neck wide
Then use his index and his thumb to pull out ya tongue; Columbian necktie
Alright, well guess why this nigga so afraid
Cause I’m connected like a unibrow and sneak cats puma style
Ya bro behave like a hoe behave
Get hit wit’ the blade in ya shoulder now you got a extra shoulder blade
I’m underrated, but I’m overpaid
Since ya mom gettin’ old in age that old hoe need to close her legs
Yo I’m so amazed they let a terrorist in
Who bared arms, I got more guns than the hairs on ya chin
And the ice is in the chain
I’m the nicest in the game
Just put a knife up to ya vein and just tear your wrist in
Despite bein’ lame
You supposed to be Crip but don’t know the rules of the street
You can lose ya teeth if ya open ya lips
And I heard that you supposedly snitch
Who knows though?
It’s not like if you lie we’ll suddenly see ya nose grow
I wish a boy would (wood) lie to me
The toy could get allergies, then a fuckin’ long nose blow
I feel, y’all still, can’t fuck wit’ my old flow
Youngin’ I’m on my Benjamin Button you lookin’ old tho’
The shotgun got double impact, but I hold it so loooow
So when it kick it lift and hit niggas’ foreheads; no homo
I never stop grinidin’, I’m rockin’ diamonds the gold glow
And I’m prepared to do you greasy in here (hair); Soul Glow
But yo yo, I know you not prepared
Off top you gon’ dread this loss Aak
Cause I got it locked in here (hair)
You should drop a tear (tier)
You should’ve prolly quit
Cause this whole round I broke down how you really supposed to body shit
Nigga you’se a bitch! Gotti shit
See these rounds; Homi shit
You tried to do a Geechi and hide, I shoot the tree down
Bitch I brought a 100 clip, you only came wit’ three rounds?
Keep it a 100, you run wit’ Crips but you wanna be down
The NFL signed Jay-Z and Meek free now
But these clowns forgot why Kaepernick put his knee down
See now, this round was called “Body Parts” cause this the part where you get bodied, you ain’t play ya part
It ain’t nobody fault
I caught a body, walked and ain’t talked or call witness
This a murder yo but it ain’t personal it’s all business
And before it’s all finished
Just admit it, I’m dope bitch I’m the GOAT
And they heard that stupid shit that you wrote

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