Nu Jerzey Twork vs. Chilla Jones [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
Smack kept callin’ my phone like, “How far are you along for the King Pen? You know he’s that nigga.”
I thought about comin’ here and droppin’ a pin
That’ll let you know where I’m at with it
This for real thuggin’
“How you feel about battling Chill-“
“I don’t feel nothin’.”
I’ma kill somethin’
Steel dumpin’
They said, “The day I beat the King Pen’ll be a cold day in Hell.”
Tell ’em, “Chill comin'”
This heat’ll clap him
Niggas always doin’ my style cause they style- I can’t even grasp it
You gonna get up here with all this extra energy
The way you niggas compete is tragic
Y’all rap my way, Black Friday, the objective is to beat the madness
Who want it?
I done seen a few want it
Shakin’ the tool on it
Gotta do a new Strapped In, practically Moon Walking
New salsa
And since I got that strap from Big T
Soon as I get to Chill I can BOOM on ’em
Jerome gets stretched, chop the body up
Drive him back to my state, we gonna road trip next
His arms get tossed, his legs get tossed, his dome gets slapped
I’m puttin’ Chilla over Jersey like the old Dipset
Not an ounce of respect
I took this battle cause, not too many options was left
You? Maybe for a deposit
Or when you die you can double the thousands that’s left
Cause your mother can make a GoFundMe but I’ma take account for your death
Ratchet on me
Clap it on him
.40 bucks
This bitch was askin’ for it
Large .40
I’m talkin’ oxymoron, I let off on him
Clip airin’
I won’t let shit spare you
Sig’ barrel
Pops outta nowhere
(Yes sir!)
Big Gerald
I’ma peel on him
Hide the body for years on him
By the time they dig ’em up
It was real awful
Nothin’ but Chill carcass
Tragedy in there
I’m talkin’ maggots in his ear like a drill sergeant
You know he a disgrace
You told the staff you was gonna come here and smoke me in this place
Get the dawg (dog) to chill
I heard that shit you fed Chico but knew it was baloney from the gate
You get killed like that
I was gonna come up here and peel my strap
We could’ve made this happen in Day 1
You know Jer’/Rome (Jerome) wasn’t built like that
I ain’t fuckin’ wit’ dawg
I’ma run up in the King Pen house wit’ the hammer in my palm
Put the gun in ya mother’s son, put the gun to ya mom
Have her prayer, cover the Pen (pin), this shit is like a money withdrawal
I’m killin’ everyone who involved
Like, “Give me everything. Or I’m blazin’ out ya skull out.”
This bitch won’t give it up like I’m placed in the dog house
He said, “I’m warnin’ you.”
Bitch whatchu gonna do?
Pull out ya pen?
Nigga state whatchu talkin’ ’bout
This is a grenade, if I pull out a pen (pin) I’m takin’ us all out
Jersey

[Round 1: Chilla Jones]
They said I turned up the Volume, ain’t no mutin’ that
They said in the room, the gas can carry Rum like Super Bad
We made a classic though
Salute to that
Now Jerz the match, I’ma torch ya (torture) but you’re used to racks
So where the Luger at?
The nose ringin’ (ring in) his face, he should be used to that
Throw him off a cliff
And while the sky divin’, a pair’ll shoot (parachute) his back
Let me flip that
Since you be reusin’ raps
Ruger strapped, off top don’t get it twisted
Tighten up or you’ll lose your cap
I’m too relaxed
They don’t believe me
I guess I gotta prove his facts
Well let’s dance
I’m leavin’ Blood on the spot like Super Bad
The truth is back
Every bar weigh (way) heavy, no Curtis, see (courtesy)
Make him drop with the .50 (50) yeah I’m Con/’Ye (Kanye) petty
I’m on his porch like, “Your men straight (menstruate) pussy, Blood. Period.”
Now your whole pad gettin’ Winged, shit I’m Always ready
But you steady gettin’ love from Chris
When you go “BAOW” and let off a boom
How it go? “Excuse me…miss? You saw me from across the room”, right?
Ayo them Boston goons will ‘Take You Down’ with ‘No Guidance’ or respect from you
And take your straps like, “‘Gimmie That’. ‘Run It’.” and start checkin’ you
With them ‘Deuces’, ‘Say Goodbye’…’Forever’, no BSing you
Or I hope whoever ‘With You’ is ‘Loyal’
Cause ‘I Can Transform You’ to a vegetable!
‘Pull Up’ “Next To You’, with a ‘New Flame’ ‘Poppin”
I make his dome tan
‘Look At Me Now’…it’s Jones here
You are my son, so if I do wet you wit’ Sparks there’ll be ‘No Air’ (heir)
Aye, I dare you to move to the block
You and ya boo cruise in the drop
Well wait ’til my crew gets the drop
They sayin’ them (CNN) will have a Wolf Blitzer…then Anderson Cooper gets shot
News flash, ya boo’s trash, all the fellas could beat it
Y’all know the type
In high school givin’ head in the bleachers
That’s what you known for
Movin’ with a thot (thought) like telekinesis
See it’s a different level
They ask for Chilla and get the devil
I’m whoopin’ this clown top until the pistol turn to Twisted Metal
Let’s get it settled
You gonna have to get ya chick protection
She was lookin’ right then it all went left, I sent a bullet in ya miss direction (misdirection)
Sleep on me? You interesting
Get it? Into restin’
Lift a weapon
Twork don’t know what’s happenin’
I’m clappin’ him
Whatchu gon’ do? Stand here and mention Topanga?
Cause she commented on my IG?
That shit is corny and wrong
Frontin’ like you been (Ben) Savage then your writin’ strong like Cory and Shawn
But that’s what a fiend he (Feeny) is to battle rap
Far from a veterans mind
Mentioning Topanga in ya rounds I’m sure, all this disrespect in ya lines
See we can learn somethin’ from Boy Meets World, cause our principles kept us in line
Whatchu talkin’ ’bout?
You might’ve battled dudes who sound like me
But you ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these
Boss Town!

[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I got a pen too bro
I mean, I ain’t earn your position in fact
But don’t look over the little writin’
There’s terms and conditions for that
You get murdered in this place
I admit, you like a Virgil in this state
Y’all label him “The King Pen” cause all the words the nigga say
But why would you put a Pen up to the test?
Permanent mistake
.30 on my waist
Niggas talk hot online, when I’m not around they thinkin’ straight
Davy Jones: niggas tend to cool (tentacle) down when I’m in they face
Pound’ll be on my waist
Twin MAC’s, they spray from hip, blazin’ shit
11-11 (11:11) now make a wish
Take ya pick
Ruger, Glock 19
Nah, gun butt, his face is gettin’ cracked
Pistol whip, ’til I break a (breaker) 1-9; radio dispatch
Y’all let this King Of The Dot slave just come and rap
Well it’s a re-entrance fee, I’m about to make you pay for comin’ back
.380 on my lap, getcha favorite homie clapped
Take ya life with the rhyme
I swear on a stack of Bibles, I will send ya right hand to God
Pipe in the sock
Big Smith &
I’m ’bout to get to squeezin’ this thing
It’s silver Wess (West) you ’bout to find out who Jesus Is, King
Leg, stomach, head
{Gun cocks} Pump action, pound might squeeze
Boom, boom, boom
You ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these
I’m fuckin’ up all ya blessings, I’ll bring the toys out
I’m talkin’ everything I put Pen (pin) on; like a Boy Scout
Put clips in you
Big pistol
Baow!
Get a wooden leg
Let the peg assist (Pegasus) like this venue
This nigga-

{Twork cuts his round short}

Jersey

[Round 2: Chilla Jones]
You be baggin’ chicks with that hairline?
Well hats off
Cause under that hood you look like Caine with his mask off
This a rap boss
Shit, I ain’t fightin’ ya with muscle
Pistol on my waist
I’m way too tired for the tussle
But since you look like Caine…I ain’t gonna try you wit’ the knuckle
Soon as you get in the ring I’ll raise arms and fire off the buckle
The ladder under the belt ain’t a wrestlin’ prop
Nigga the weapon get cocked
Apply pressure to his kin (skin) then Blood vessel get popped
As many shots as you shot in your rounds, you don’t even have gun sponsors?
Well it don’t matter what Anderson pack (Anderson.Paak)
He ’bout to go from conscious to unconscious
I roll with mobsters, who bang on thugs
The flame throw slugs
Headshot, fryin’ his egg, now his brain on drugs (Drugz)
It ain’t no love
To get ate (eight) with two .4’s I’m simplifying
What I’m holdin’ took him back five yards I’m penalizin’
It’s mystifying, how I’m makin’ Blood splatter
Get it? Mist defining
Took a nigga out his hood, I’m gentrifying
His death is still music to my ears, but now these niggas vibin’
Rounds bangin’ from different sides, now what you think that symbolizin’?
I’ll get ya casket cut
Height, width, and length provided
Soon as you start with all that fake noise I’ll have my man synthesizin’
Real recognizin’ real
You think your man is familiar?
Well I’m Strapped In
With many different cannons to kill ya
Let’s do it UFC style
The challenger come with a kick, I’ll pull
All this on and take Anderson’s silver (Silva)
Chilla wildin’, with the sickest 30
The day they said the kid was nerdy
Then a shop blast
Then he drop fast, now niggas worried
Them medics was in a hurry
I switched clips then spit a flurry
Now it’s Draft Night cause niggas gon’ get a cap before they get the jersey (Jerzey)
Do niggas dirty
Catch ’em sleepin’ in a bed and gun butt him
Concussion left son gushin’ and leakin’ from his head
He a Blood, y’all should’ve seen how he was bleedin’ when he bled
Then got shit blew (blue)
Now he on the floor, throwin’ up, seizing (C’ing) until he dead
Man I’m tryin’ to be Red next L
A crazy 30; XFL
After this I bet he hate me Jerzey
Who else is worthy Smack?
Line up the boxes like argyle
I mean Quban and Ace left…Jakk too
But he been wack for a long while
And Ryda, he ain’t a puncher
He need to switch bar styles
As far as Castro, Lu can (Luka) get taken out the game I’m Rick Carlisle
Hostyle!
Fuck is this position?
BAOW
Fuck up his disposition
Now he on his back in a casket in this position
Big decision
Nigga, who gonna save y’all crew?
I mean, we don’t gotta take it past rap, but say y’all do
Man we spray off tools
After this Smack, we (weed) get outta hand
Now Glue’ havin’ Déjà vu!
I will throw you through a motherfuckin’ window
Try me
If it don’t fall, jersey (Jerzey) hangin’ half out like Kyrie
I’m a different nigga
Boss Town man, let’s go

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
All that…that round was nice

[Chilla]
Thank you bro

[Twork]
All that talk about ya straps and shit just seems borin’
I ain’t worried about ya kicks my nigga; they Team Jordans
I don’t often do this
But they said, “The Goonies had the fake Black Wealth chains”
Okay we walked into it
I admit
Them niggas got they chains from the mall…okay we all did
But y’all niggas know the cost of jewelry?
Your chain, was only a Real chain cause you lost it to him
They did you triflin’ fool
Cheated you one time, then cheated you- okay you like to lose
This nigga lost the King Of The Dot piece two times, why y’all hype this fool?
Took a whole necklace from him, like a second cousin it was twice removed
They don’t ask you they just force you
You keep goin’ back to King Of The Dot where you don’t have it do it shorty
Y-y-y-y-you can go anywhere in the world and scream “Boston”, but you let ya master choose it (Massachusetts) for you
It’s only you to blame
Them motherfuckers got you fightin’ for a necklace?
You keep playin’ they stupid game
Every time we go forward you push us 20 yards back, move the chains!
Nigga use ya brain
You figured you could go over with them white people and go on a rampage
Here go somebody else makin’ it all about you, that’s a fan page
We do shit only niggas can Chill, that’s a man cave
{gun cocks}
Cans blaze
Never fakin’
Hella bangers
K clip, shell will bang you
I’m talkin’ rounds in the banana put in (pudding) like a vanilla wafer
I’ma let a can’ spark him
Boom!
Knock his hat off and set it down on him
Leave the gun by your shoe, so they can tell ya man sparked it
I put an arm where the head rest at like I’m parallel parkin’
You get clapped up wit’ the Glock
Then I leave, come back, parallel park it, I’m back up in the spot
No, wait, wait, wait, no I’ma make you hop off the tallest buildin’, I mean 100 stories
Nigga hesitant
I thought this was fuckin’ normal
I mean you jumped from the top tier to the Proving Ground, this should be nothing for you
Buck it on him
100 rounds goin’ through Chilla, the shells popped ya
A whole tunnel will make his way [?] like El Chapo
Head chopper, I’m a clap fan
Gat blam
I snuck a sub under the tee, it’s Fat Camp
Silencer, on the Desert Eagle, we gon’ cruise where you live
I’ll put a potato on a triangle and made a food pyramid
You can’t never see me
Forever creepin’
Got the drop on Chilla Jones, it was hella easy
Slid up
{gun clicks}
Now you make one false move this Beretta squeezin’
He froze, to the back of his dome like Yella Beezy
Jersey

[Round 3: Chilla Jones]
Your work ethic ain’t right for the crown
I should rifle him down
Then reload with the bullets that came out him, pick ’em up from the ground
At least now, you ain’t the only one recyclin’ rounds
But not only do you recycle
But you still just a [?]
“I’ll put a bullet in skull of yo’ sis (scoliosis)”
Who said it?
Nunn Nunn, right?
But wait, I got more for him
“Johnny Bravo, do the monkey with it.”
Uh oh, 10-4 again
Ancestry.com, I’m tracing bloodlines back to they origins
Fuck the money, cause you poor within
You’ll never reach your rap potential
Went from stealin’ purses to takin’ deposits and actin’ mental
Shit, in my day we just hustled dawg
It was either crack of indo
16, makin’ money off of page (Paige) like Sacramento
Oh that’s your M.O.?
Stealin’ purses, deposits and [?]
What makes you worthy Five?
What’s next? Stealin’ cars?
Shit I’m questioning new Jerzey’s drive (New Jersey Drive)
You went on live, tryin’ to diss Tay
Knowin’ Roc(k) bolder (boulder)
Oh you a snake? You get a mean bump, we knock shoulders
I’ll clap you, then battle it out, we pop toasters
That mean the 30 first (31st), then mask and buck it (bucket) like October
You got skill
But they call me, “Chill”, I’m a lot colder
When it air, you gon’ get yo’ share, I’m a stockholder
I’ll clap you, then slap you with the gun, you’ll get a knot soldier
Soon as Blood shot I (eye) beat him into a Glock coma (Glaucoma)
This shit is over
Wait (weight)
I’m a demon, either way I need exercisin’ (exorcisin’)
The pressure risin’
I’ll gouge ya shit, press your eyes in
Now his pupils fucked up, and the docs tryin’ to rectify him
And bring him back to they original state, they gotta extradite him
The cops comin’, I got a body with the chopper and left it by him
Why do a bid? I’ma frame Jerzey (jersey) with the Sig’ (sig’); it’s a collectors item
Who left behind him?
Don’t matter what ya camp doin’
Cause it’s white sheets for hatin’ niggas, the Klan movement
But you bang nigga
Piru Blood-
The can’ shootin’
I’m tryin’ to body a liter (leader) of Blood it’s a transfusion
Confusin’
What is ya man’s doin’?
Somebody gotta get the kid to listen
Cause all that drama in Virginia almost put us in a shit position
Yeah you Strapped In, clappin’ niggas in a coma, but this was different
Cause you almost got clapped into a coma, being strapped in that whip in Richmond
Shit, in Florida you got drama too
Had ya clique panicking
They was shootin’ tre’s in Orlando to Nick Anderson
Tell Suge he don’t want this smoke, I’ll dismantle him
If you pissed then put a bill up, I’ll Rip Hamilton
Y’all should’ve known Chilla back, man I came here to pop shots
I’ll make his top tear, then his mid tear and then his stock drop
I’m back Twork
You might’ve battled dudes who sound like me
But this a motherfuckin’ classic and you ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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