Geechi Gotti vs. Nu Jerzey Twork [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
We got Geechi Gotti versus….
Nigga you pull a gun out on me and don’t use it I’ma kill you nigga
Straight like that
I’m still pissed off niggas seen me movin’ out the way like that
But see you did it for clout
I gave niggas the benefit of the doubt
Cause in them situations, you was supposed to clear that bitch out
But then…when your car got shot up
You my nigga so I said, “Fuck whoever done that.”
But then I started thinkin’ like, “Where was that gun at?
Why you ain’t let none clap?”
See niggas ain’t scared to let it go on you and that’s dumb facts
Cause shootin’ at you is like battle rap for these industry dudes
It’s no fire come back
Nigga I run rap
It’s time to keep it G with these punks
They say this a match for the top spot, I don’t see it as such
I’m the back to back Champ, he ain’t even in the top three we discuss
But lettin’ you live this long was my mistake
So after this, shit gonna get a lot clearer
Y’all ain’t even catch that
I said “my mistake” that meant this my era (error)
I done battled the best Shine, JC
Shit, even me and Nitty had to bang
I’m talkin’ Arsonal, O-Red, even laid down the Wave
I’m talkin’ John John, Ill Will, had Ms. Fit fallin’ on the stage
Big T, Chess, Ave, Tay Roc with the change
During The Strike I put Top down screamin’ ‘Money Ain’t A Thang’
I made this shit crack again
I’m the reason niggas wanted to start livin’ they bars
But they keep givin’ you my credit
That’s why I’m the nigga with a chip on this card
I will grab a blade and chop ya family up
Ya girl, ya mama, then he go after
Grab ya little new born then I saw the baby (Sada Baby) like the Detroit rapper
I’m a real life factor
I ain’t just speakin’ bars
Face shot, hole in (holdin’) his chin like he thinkin’ hard
The king of bars, plus in these streets I’m active
Shoot ’til it click when a nigga blast it
Bitch my Sig’ (cig’) been smokin’ so long I could’ve ashed it
Y’all niggas remember when I said I had the gun like this?
Both hands double dribblin’
Crazy shit
But now I got one on the handle and one right up under the nose when I’m blazin’ it
With that Heat I’m D. Wade
Steady questionin’ myself on how I raised the bitch
Crazy shit
Raise the fifth, spray 30, I play dirty
Funeral, ya home, go and turn Twork to an away Jersey
He ain’t worthy
Fuck the lames, Mafia, I put my own team on jersey, it’s custom made
It ain’t a fuckin’ game
Y’all put him against a dome splitter
Chrome lifter
Junior’s bachelor party
Y’all done put twerk (Twork) in front of the wrong nigga
30 stick, long clipper
Get hit when I blast it
Twork (twerk) fall from the pole like the stripper in Dallas
Since I’ve been spazzin’, I make mo’ than what the vets make
Back shot, spine on the flo’
It drop before the disc came out like cassette tapes
Grab him by the throat, his neck break
He died with his eyes wide like Rex on that sex tape
This nigga stay recyclin’ bars, and y’all be cool with that
That’s why when they ask me ’bout this battle I was doubtin’ if bro worthy
Show up with any of that old Jazz, it’s gon’ feel like a mountain on jersey (Jerzey)
‘Bout to do him dirty with non effort
I can drop 30 even if I slack with Jersey (Jerzey) like Tom Sheppard
Above The Rim
Don’t make me flip you, they done put the Crip on you
Against ‘Tez, y’all seen me put shells in they ese
Now I’m finna get you damaged, I shoot cannon
Over the body with the sweeper standin’ up, it ain’t The Broom Challenge
Y’all think dude savage?
But his hands too shaky to handle the Glock, that’s the difference
I leave niggas shakin’ like that after the shot
Aye, you beat up Norbes?
I really don’t care
I’m just tryin’ to figure out what that mean to a nigga that really clap things
Shoot him, his body shut down
Blood stream fucked up worser than Caffeine
And when it’s real…y’all can tell
(Y’all can see it they in they eyes
It’s yo’ turn make niggas believe them lies
Nigga, time)

[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
Nigga you’se a bitch!
He know
I was just out in Bompton on my Piruthless shit
Let him try angles
Catch a bullet, use a pick
Ruger clip
Nah, I can give a fuck what you heard ’bout
I’m so excited, he finally dies
One shot I’ma squeeze a bird out
He got Got’
God got Got’, I can’t even get the words out
Tool ’bout to shoot
Chrome ’bout to spark
Chrome ’bout to shoot
{Fake chokes}
Nah fuck that, that’s something the old Twork would do
This weighin’ heavy on my heart
You tryin’ to call up the Crips? Click
This Beretta dumpin’ off
Boom, let him live
I’ma drag his body very fuckin’ far
I’m talkin’ so deep in the woods he can never fuckin’ call
Can you hear me now?
Nigga you gon’ need every fuckin’ bar
Y’all saw the video, bro was hidin’
I was the nigga holdin’ iron
Him? Facin’ a tree like Pocahontas
I should’ve clapped yo’ ass then, that was God blessin’ you
Shoot every page you was hidin’ behind, there wouldn’t have been a log left
Left the whole tree danglin’ down, that’s a car freshener
It ain’t the fact that you hid behind a tree
It’s just the fact I saw you leave Brooklyn Hanz, I can attest to it
Too many unanswered questions
Nigga tried to justify the shit, the fans were stressin’ him
You think you right cause you left Hanz (hands)? That’s ambidextrous
Heat about to fly
I shook his pride
You know it’s real when you see it in they eyes
Not when they look alive
I’m Strapped In!
I’ll clap you in a coma
Madness, I could snap at any moment
My name Twork, I ain’t Twork nigga, I’m already earnin’ my status
Errrr, I’ma drive down Nutty Blocc burnin’ the ratchets
Kill ’em all
Closed casket?
[?] bitch we burnin’ the casket
I need to know if it’s Nuts in it, I got allergic reaction
Aye Avo’, I’m ’bout to murder this faggot
I should put it in Avo’s face, Avocado’s face
Cause you the only person [?]
But I’ma pick this nigga first, that’s Affirmative Action
Get stabbed up for your Champion Of The Year belt
I’ll [?]
Pull it out, poke an extra hole in the belt, make it my size
He claimin’ mob ties
But you be lucky if you manage out the east
.45’s, look like a .9, that’s an apostrophe
Try wit’ me
I get mad over the slightest thing, can’t hash it out wit’ me
Literally, trip for next to nothin’; Travelocity
Ratchet pop on him
You run your mouth, I kill ya first lady
This launch heavy fucker
[?] lit, stick on Coffee; R. Kelly mother
Let that resonate
Serial, still on the revolver, I let the weapon spray
Spin, with no scratch, let’s set the record straight
Geechi, I can give a fuck about your deceased folks
They memories left they graves
Why the fuck you let ya dead homie mother, keep leavin’ voicemail knowin’ her son ain’t gonna hear what the message say?
Next time she try to call that nigga, I let Berettas blaze
Scream on the voicemail, “You got seven days!”
Larkin peel, you all get killed
I’ll leave this Nutty nigga missin’
Missin’, missin’, I’m talkin’ lost for real
I’m talkin’ Nut’ on the carton, that’s almond milk
Y’all niggas homeless still
I done kicked it with a lot of these niggas, nobody seems violent
Ch-ch ch-ch, my shotty bring [?]
Who wanna die?
Shhh y’all gotta keep quiet
Boom, this gonna be a nigga nobody seen die
Leave him
Drop the body, no leave the body, that’s the Jolly Green Giant

[Round 2: Geechi Gotti]
I can do what you do, that style is sickenin’
All you do is word association with vocal projection, it isn’t gifted
The crowd know to cheer the moment you yell the bar, it’s like the shit is scripted
He be like, “I should be on the big screen with the shit I’m liftin’
Through the scope I can see ya plasma…cause I got tele-vision”
But I’m not the nigga to fool wit’
He prolly own a fertilizer company cause he keep sellin’ y’all this bullshit
Trunk bars, I shouldn’t never hear
But that don’t take away the shit I did on my block
Niggas I done got killed by my Glock
The truth is, real niggas get out the way
Cause when bustas got guns, somebody innocent gets shot
With a name like Twork, you should be workin’ at Magic City shakin’ ass and titties
Puttin’ ya tip money in one of them old ladies who you be snatchin’ purse
You make ya state look bad my nigga and that’s on the turf
Cause when I think of Jersey, that’s Arsonal and Surf puttin’ in work
Joe Budden, Redman, Tretch, with the bars they be goin’ berserk
It wasn’t until I met this nigga, that I found out that niggas in New Jersey twerk (Nu Jerzey Twork)
Now Smack, how come you don’t say “pause” before you announce this nigga name?
Twork! Twork!
And I’m surprised all these grown men be happy when they see his ass bouncin’ on the stage
This nigga’s a lame
But let me know
How did ya homies feel when you got that piercin’?
What type of gangsta do those things?
See I got high rankin’ from the big homies the first time I let my nose ring
But let me tell you a few mo’ things
What’s up with Ryda, Drugz? That Lu Cas’ nigga?
Don’t y’all get tired seein’ this fake G string along all these ass niggas?
Goonies? Where? All I see is a bunch of victims
Them dudes ain’t hard
Now that Jakk, Q and Ace left
Niggas ain’t gonna have no problems pullin’ they card
And these niggas ain’t stars, that’s why they gotta work
But all try to sound like you, that’s what make it kinda worse
But I get it
In order for them wack bitches to get attention they gotta twerk (Twork)
The Llama burst, like y’all don’t really want smoke dawg
Kill you then dump the .40 over ya dead homies like Loc Dog
Fuck you and Drugz, I’ll put a bullet in both y’all
In the hospital ya family watchin’ ya body go through a series of events, it ain’t Snowfall
Talkin’ ’bout, “He the reason Geech’ was hidin’ behind a tree.”
Is he illiterate?
The nerve of a nigga that got fucked up by senior citizen
Who he kiddin’ when me and you both know he ain’t wanna fight
Hoe nigga, why don’t you tell the fans how you literally had to push Drugz in that street like a dope dealer
Nigga he’s a bitch!
And you, a Jersey nigga that live in the DMV, claimin’ a Compton gang
What’s really good?
It’s safe to say on stage, the only time that he in his hood
He wanna be ‘Pac so bad, I bet he wish he could
An east coast nigga runnin’ with Compton Piru’s, takin’ orders from his nigga Suge
Both of y’all got nose rings, both of y’all got killed in Vegas
Should I continue on?
I don’t think I should
Mr. Piru Gang Member
See you got the street- see you got these niggas confused, but the streets not
You can’t be a Piru Blood gang member unless you from the same hood as B. Dot
See that’s the type of shit that make me hot
But after this, we gonna get this shit clear
Because Piru is a street in Compton and you ain’t never even been there
The shit weird
And you know, yeah you was in Compton but if I had you there
And told you to take me to Piru Street, you wouldn’t know where to go
See for that you a hoe
Claimin’ a block and a street you never stood on
You don’t know how disrespectful that is to the real Piru’s that had to put on
Shoot shit, go to jail and die for that street
See all these years in church but it took Geechi to get his soul right
Ya mama a preacher, it makes sense
She had you believin’ in shit you haven’t seen ya whole life
But in real Compton and Bompton, Piru’s that don’t make it fair
You got a nigga named Driver in the Goonies, couldn’t he even take you there?
But see, aye, I know some real Piru’s they like, “Twork cool. But Gotti you gotta cook dawg.”
For real you look soft
I could have 135 Piru’s give you a [?]
I’m the reason yo’ career took off
Cause I brought this gangsta shit back to battle rap and I can bang that
Now everybody flaggin’, y’all didn’t even doo rag
That’s why they called me to bring the Wave back
Champion Of The Year, can’t none of these niggas claim that
To beat me, you gon’ need a bigga .9 than Robin Williams when he played Jack
Brotherhood? I’m from that other hood
Crip street, big heat
.4 close (foreclose) ya shit like when the crib lease
I’ll shoot ya pregnant bitch
Y’all gon’ think her water broke the way the bitch leak
Her baby measurements gon’ be 7 ounces and six feet
16 in the clip, close range when I’m shootin’ him
On Jesus I’ll let about 12 roam (Rome) in Jerusalem
I’m through wit’ him
I could have my sis’ spark it at you
Bury you live on Caffeine and have Coffee plant you
I get at you
Give a fuck if you witcha guys
The gun’ll blaze ya
You get laid down and I pop back up like The Undertaker
You a dead man, I’ma be runnin’ this battle rap shit ’til my last day
Sayin’ you can beat me? You cappin’ Jerzey (cap in Jersey) like Draft Day
Drum on the K, bitch I ain’t stutterin’
Clip took so long to load look like I’m bufferin’
Enough wit’ him
I’m not ya mans
Gun on me, it’s not contraband
100 buck, then it’s twerk (Twork) in the upper room like a private dance
Cause when it’s real y’all can see tell
(Y’all can see it in they eyes
It’s yo’ turn, see you can make niggas believe them lies
Nigga time)

[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
This nigga said, my moms was a pastor, that’s a fact
Talkin’ ’bout me havin’ guns or bein’ a Blood
But my mom bein’ a pastor I guess y’all thinkin’, “Boy just a scandal.”
But I talked to my mom about that the other day
She said when she preach she keep a .40 by the panel
I said, “Word?!”
I don’t think Jesus gon’ be mad at me
You run up on me I’ma plant you
Cause God taught me He’ll never give me more than I can handle
Speakin’ of my mom, y’all gotta check her out
I done seen her pray over the rich or poor
I done seen her lay hands on the handicap and watch ’em hit the floor
And I’m just like her, I can put my hands on you, you won’t be Crip no more!
Geechi Gotti!
You put on a couple pounds?
I was on your IG the other day, saw you workin’ out
I’m impressed as fuck
See, you gettin’ ya reps up bruh
Flexin’ huh?
Workin’ on ya pecs and stuff
This nigga gonna go and gain all this muscle just for my TECs to dump
I don’t give a fuck what you bench, just don’t press ya luck
You get 100 out the chamber
I don’t see anything about him dangerous
This Piru, our city’s Nutty Blocc, grab a mop out and bang ya
Buncha hot shells comin’ out the chamber
Nina, a pliers to the Nuts, that’s Money Mike and Damon
This a Glock, with 30 shots
Kill rivals
BAOW, somehow it always land on ’em first; bill cycle
I do you real trifle
Chrome it pop
Try to go near the TECs
Yellow tape, homie drop
I get the message
I left him on scene with no response
The strap just hot
Whatchu think, you the only nigga that been to jail?
I been locked, with no PC; MAC desktop
.38 come out the waist, the gat just pop
Revolver, spin off the hip, that’s Dak Prescott
The gun is dumpin’, the rusty bird, The Ugly Duckling
Gun butt, get lumped for nothin’
Pistol whip, crack a ; Uncle Ruckus

[Round 3: Geechi Gotti]
Jay Blac asked me how I felt about this battle
I told him I felt like I’m good
This just deja vu for me, I’ve been facin’ ugly shit in the hood
My nigga, what’s good?
Niggas know I ain’t scared of shit
I done been shot, that means I done survived deadlier rounds than you can ever spit
It’s level’s bitch
So fuck a hater
That bullet’s still in me, that’s metal under my skin like I’m the Terminator
In the streets, they call me “the Exterminator”
I wake up with the shit on the dresser
Stick wit’ me like a criminal record
Ever since I been here
Niggas been feelin’ the pressure
That’s cause they know who a rider
Big Crip, I got the C (see) over everything like a supervisor
Extendo on the mil’ (meal), that’s a Super Sizer
One shot got Blood coverin’ his whole dome
All y’all gonna see is a red hood, a Red Skull under the hoodie like he protectin’ the Soul Stone
Nigga my soul gone
Cause all my niggas…so gone
Who you ever had to lose?
I will put your face on a shirt
The only time your mans will see you is when you match with his shoes
How I’m livin’ is cruel
I had beef with yo’ kind all because I was a Crip
Gangbangin’ my lifestyle where I’m from and it’s legit
I had to jump out and shoot niggas I never met, just run up on ’em and that was it
Feelin’ like Mark McGwire off of them steroids
Shit, I knew it was wrong but still I did it off the strength
Nigga I’m convinced, dude trippin’
I been in the trap with birds sittin’ around; stool pigeons
Dude listen
Gangbangin’s in my job, no matter what you wanted to do from…
Sellin’ rock to shootin’ niggas, they got a part for you
I did it all, I sold crack AND shot niggas
That was rock durin’ the day and a monster at night like a gargoyle
I’ma make it hard for you
Do y’all believe in a higher power?
See I do, but sometimes I get discouraged low key
Cause no matter what, it seem like all my enemies get to God befo’ me
Death after death, we really been through them stages
How old is you?
It’s a blessin’ just to get to them ages
I’m talkin’ seein’ one coffin’ (coughin’) after another, the shit was contagious
See I was young like you
Dumb like you
Shoot plenty niggas that wasn’t really where they said they were from like you
See I was strapped in
I done really clapped niggas into comas
It was madness
The lifestyle could’ve made me snap at any moment
But I live through it
See the shit you tryin’ to do, I’ve been doin’
I seen niggas get killed in they whips cause they gun was stashed, and since they were Strapped In they couldn’t get to it
This shit stupid
I’ve been gangbangin’ since 11, you really up here with a Loc bro
In my lifestyle, funerals was the main stage, closed caskets was a no show
I really love this nigga, see so all these muhfuckin’ rappers dyin’, got me and my niggas ridin’ around with our Glocks in [?]
Cause if somethin’ happen to you for doin’ all this stupid shit, I’ma be hurt from the heart, my nigga, not for no clout
I even had a dream somebody shot you one day, it was right by yo’ house
It was another nigga, a Glock and a couch
My memory kinda vague but all I know is another nigga gave you a shot in the mouth
He said, “Believability”
Now takin’ his hood off right now on stage will make y’all believers
But see that’s where we the same
I been tattin’ my gang
My hood ain’t comin’ off either
And when it’s real, y’all can tell, y’all can see it in they eyes
Go ‘head…

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
Geechi…you my nigga
I’m gonna tell you I’m gonna believe you’re a writer
But when I think about it…nah you right, I’m gonna believe ya pen
Nah….cause…all the homies around you died so I don’t wanna be ya friend
We’ll be better stayin’ rivals
You always talk about how this nigga got killed, how that nigga went to jail
I get it, dedicated writin’
You right, I get it, I get it, you steady payin’ homage
But what about you, nigga? Why you hesitate about it?
Why you never state ya problem?
You just go straight to a bar and everybody else take the shot, you the designated driver
Say I’m lyin’
Say I’m lyin’!
You just a battle rapper, why they stay behind you?
The labor finda
The bitch beside the one that really ring, you think you made of honor?
While my game was slidin’ I was tryin’ to kill me a cuz
Drive-by, red rag around the pistol I tuck
Window down, pistol BAOW, I’m talkin’ 10 of ’em dump
Everybody runnin’, even my adrenaline rush
We was headed to that
A Crip run? Boom, boom, I put a shell in his back
Toss him over
It was a Crip I played football with, I was very distressed
I’m talkin’ wide receiver, in one season, 976 yards he wasn’t ready for that
Cause the day we went lookin’ for Crabs he caught his Deadliest Catch
That was a murder scene
YOU, rap about everything you heard and seen
If this was my set nigga
Bay Bay Loc, if this was my set nigga, you put in work for me, that’s a 30 piece
Tell Bay (Bae) to Cap a nigga, it’s a fraternity
I bang nigga!
(Piru gang member!)
Your real name is Marcus Keith Vantroy
You live in Hawthorne, California
Geechi listen here
I don’t see your mission here
You 35 still tellin’ ya homie’s mama “the nigga disappear”
Whatchu gon’ do when someone tell you yo’ son dead? You bet’ not drip a tear
I have two kids, and for my family, that pistol sittin’ here
Both my kids know they pa tuck it (Pawtucket) that’s Peter Griffin beer
You pitiful, I should belittle you
I should even kill ya fuckin’ self for even tryin’ to be little you
You ain’t never fuck wit’ hard, you sell damn weaves
I was really used to supplyin’ my block, I can’t leave
$20 crack bag down the block, $15 bags next door, the grams cheap
I had coke, dope, pills and weed
100 bucks across the street; stampede
Man please, you sell stylist products, we really got bundles on the east
I’m talkin’ dollars piling
Court cases
The State of New York versus Raivon – nigga I was on trial for hours
Rikkers Island, they way they was addressing (a dressing) it I could’ve been on 1,000 Islands
Llama firin’
Serial still on the chopper, wildin’
That numbers on the back of the MAC (Mack) like How’s My Driving?
Geechi Gotti…we know you true blue for certain
But just cause you rap about it, don’t mean you do the murders
Shhh, I put a silencer on an NP, {ppst ppst} I can shoot through a person
And break down the audio, that’s a YouTube converter
All you dudes get served wit’-
That’s crazy
I’m talkin’ Nutty Blocc, Nutty Blocc niggas, I’m thinkin’ all options [?]
I could bail out some ex-cons to have ’em all watchin’ ya daughters
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Machete on me…stick it inside, and something large choppin’ ya heart up
Nah, nah, nah, nah
Cinder blocks, take you to the water
Let you all hop in the water
Too many things to do with this Nut’; that’s George Washington Carver
Bang on him!
You done took a bad turn
I’m tryin’ to catch Geechi Gotti slippin’, the MAC bursts
I mean I’m gonna get annoyin’
Waitin’ outside his house with the MAC firm
‘Til I see you twitch and die, I’ma get on ya last nerves!

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