Bigg K vs. Ah Di Boom [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Ah Di Boom]
I said Smack
Respect for the opportunity cause you got a lot of fans for me
Danny, we on TV
So that temper that rise, try to channel it
Ya brains lookin’ like the Denver Broncos
Blown out in the Superbowl, I’ll Manning him
Now apologies to the editors that press the beep, beep button when we curse
Cause I’ma tell y’all first
It’s about to be a lot of profanity
Motherfucker you is not that nice
You just old brother
I bet they can picture you dyin’ to this pose (dispose) brother
You ’bout to witness defeat (da feet), stay on ya toes brother
Or have ’em cover ya back like James Brown cause I’m willin’ to take ya Soul, Brother
I said I’m outside ya crib like meep, meep in my Roadrunner
Cause you ain’t pay me back for them drugs that be bone color
I got Martin on rerun before murder, let me unload brother
My son always got a big ratchet in the crib like Cole mother
So what we doin’? Performin’ with bars?
Well you dyin’ in 48 hours, that’s today
I live by the rules of LL, Cool J
Mama Said Knock You Out
And I listen to my mother more than Bobby Boucher
Now do you have anything to say?
Cool, cause you was ’bout to get them clear shots; Blu Ray
Through ya door, .44 {gun cocks} Biggie Smalls
Hittin’ everything I see movin’, I mean big or small
I notice I see his bitch but I can’t leave a witness y’all
So the headshot was Fabuloso, all over the kitchen floor
I said I tell my niggas, “Rush when I’m flairin’ the piece.”
Headshot, the nigga behind you gon’ be starin’ at me
And if this pig tell (tail) just know, you gettin’ hog tied
This fist run in ya mouth and make ya jaw slide
I will lighten you up when I show you my dark side
You better look both ways before you cross I (eye)

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
They say Ah Di Boom is all performance
Well, you can perform perfectly
But when I take form and shoot ya mama
I hope you can perform surgery
Certainly, if we ain’t got a pistol, then the sword’ll work
I’m from a state where people surf board
You from a state where people bored of Surf
I’ll floor this jerk, lifestyle is crucial, we go to war for work
AR’s will open your trunk and take off the panels like a border search
You young homies was raised wrong, I can’t bring ’em out of that pattern
They’ll send your soul to space when they roll up and ring from outta that Saturn
Ring, Saturn, that’s a clever quote that this fella wrote
Leave a black hole in this star is something that I tell a scope (telescope)
Yo’ bitch give me hella throat with her bust down ass
I’m givin’ him game on BET without a touchdown pass
He has a Jamaican accent, I’m on his roster (rasta) cause my heart is brave
They say steel sharpens steel well now I gotta part ya waves
I murder niggas for fun
You like Lenox on Belly cause even though he was spittin’ he still died from a sharper blade
That Larkin spray, yeah he got energy, but I won’t lose to him
I got a bomb squad that cut niggas who wire, we defuse Boom
Go ahead and swing on me punk, you’ll see this room rock
I’ll make this dude retarded like Radio if me and Boom, box (boombox)
My goons plot, these dudes will clap at ya damn father
You’ll be a hip hop legend when pistols from Africa BAM by ya (Afrika Bambaataa)
Faggot, my camp’s hotter
Several will burst cannons
Bullets will get in tune with this Gerald Levert stand in
So what you battled Verb? I spit vowels that’ll split bowels
I’ll make your soul glow over that fake beef like McDonalds
Nigga, this whole shit foul
It’s like my gun is best friends with [?] the way it click BAOW!
Nigga, get loud, you in a match with a czar
Shoot at me, I shoot back and what I’m clappin’ is large
Now that’s instant karma
Sorta like when you be drivin’ and throw somethin’ out the window and it flies back in the car
That’s hard!
You on the ground with this shit
This wack MC gotta another two rounds of this shit

[Round 2: Ah Di Boom]
First off, nigga I’m to G, mean
Second off, I did not know they made Fuchi jeans
But look, this battle, you gotta be cut for suspense like you just got fired
Ya baby mama trippin’ and ya landlord buggin’ for rent
I had a strap when 50 dropped Get Rich Or Die Tryin’
And when he dropped Massacre, I was bustin’ it then
I’ll play you close, press down and I’ll make you toast
Oh bomb a (Obama) city, dem a craaat (Democrat), it’ll make you vote
I said I see ya chick quake her (Quaker) stomach then make you oats
See as per (Casper) bullet go in you, it’ll make you ghost
You gettin’ wigged on with the same one that ya mama use
And you gettin’ punched in ya face, got the Rihanna bruise
The shot make your center roll like a Samba groove
Ya chick play wit’ my balls then I kick back like a soccer move
And I hope you feel some type of way
Boy if you try to move I line ya squad up and y’all get it together like a rendezvous
Pause, cause let me teach you how a shot can do
I’m in the ranger, boy you know I got the Tommy
Act like Suge in Jersey cause you know I got the shotty
You wrote an Ill Will, you knew I had a Homi
Dashiki, once I bust, knew I had a body
South Central, I don’t care if the west or the south sent you
These shots gon’ stay in ya mind cause I meant to (mental)
This fist gon’ run in ya grill cause I dent to (dental)
This battle for the principle, it’s gon’ be suspenseful
I always approach beef to this kid but he don’t wanna ride
So what’s the closest thing to a son? His mama so we gon’ touch his pride
Think of windows when I do this, don’t be twisted off my fuckin’ lines
Run inside, jump his mom, close the curtain, shut her (shutter) blind

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
Yo, I said we dodge steel
My life was in reverse, I beat the odds still
I was flat but got a spare tire from Heaven, this is God’s will (wheel)
My drive real, get caught slippin’ and get yo’ guys killed
Soon as you see ’em, go bananas that means keep yo’ eyes peeled
Whatchu gon’ tell me Smack? Ah Di Boom is some fuckin’ threat?
A hustle vet? This nigga’s a rappin’ Professor Klump at best
I will literally smack this nigga into the upper deck
You the reason when we shot for white tees there ain’t no double X
Hit him in his chest and all
TEC’s involved
Do him greasy, that’s how you kill a fat nigga without cholesterol
Y’all better get a vets a call
I’m close to toys, gin (Jin) will have me in a Blind Fury ’til they put you on a poster (Posta) Boy
You leavin’ the country cause you owe me, now I’m learnin’ yo’ manners
Whether or not you got my money I’m not concerned wit’ yo’ answer
I’ll catch you while you leavin’, then bust you in the middle of the airport, we call that terminal cancer
You been in debt since a snotty nose
You failed to pay now this shotty blows
So tell yo’ fans and family, “bye” in Spanish cause adios (Ah Di owes)
We body foes, that cold .40 finna bust on yo’ head
So poetic it’s like Joe Torry with a brush
So gory when we rush, niggas pickin’ every second like waitin’ early on a cold mornin’ for the bus
When I think of Jersey I think of Latifah, Lotta Zay, the homie Tretch
Not a fat nigga who stretches bars with but don’t even stretch
Picture him doin’ a stretch, this nigga is corn fed
He really ’bout that life, is you gon’ eat yo’ corn bread?
We war bred, in L.A. from birth we taught to spaz wit’ pistols
For a bag of crystals, we flash in both directions like a hazard signal
All body bags official, I was born to go winnin’
You not a Mac god cause you pray (prey) on vulnerable women
Boom, you are less than a man I got the surest proof
You a broke nigga wit’ an explanation, that’s a poor excuse
These bars are the purest truth
And you on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got a whole ‘nother round of this shit

[Round 3: Ah Di Boom]
I said, this is why I go for the round, I ain’t playin’ fetch
To put you in a bag when I hunt for you, in my cami sweats
And have the kids look in the bag…like ain’t no more candy left
When I put them heavy beats on a nigga like Mannie Fresh
His mama prolly like “Ow, turn on 106 let’s see Dan sing (Dancing) With The Stars.”
Tools park, you gon’ moon walk and leave you dancing with the stars
Act stupid, then yo’ mama fucked; Delante
I got a MAC, that bitch spaz more than Kanye
This strap, I make it ring out the box for ya fiancee
This punk drunk, then make a song about it like Beyonce
Ya chick get mad, then she gon’ be the first to bleed
Cause when I stretch her (stretcher) everybody gonna (gurney) emerge and see (emergency)
Mr. Myers, you can’t go verse to verse with me
So reverse the piece I go click clack and you gon’ skip back if you a jerk to me
I can actually rap, I take genius angles
I’m nice! You better respect my pleas (please) and thank you
You got weapons? Well squeeze it Daniel
Cause I keep this ratchet pullin’ like the weave is tangled
All y’all see, is crumbs on the floor when I squeeze toasters
I see Destiny Child, you niggas need soldiers
Please doujah, you from Cali where them gang bangers grip the thing
You make letters with ya fingers and try to spell out the simple thing
You from the hood where they ended the late, great Biggie dream?
Well Crip walk on my side, ya guardian angel gon’ have a crippled wing
I got bars in these six seconds, like my Vine is ready to go
Go 8 Miles cause I feel calm and ready
Only reason my pants sag, the .9 is heavy
It’ll put a deuce on your ace like Solitary
Me and cuz got K’s and .9’s like the cop hound
Shots past yo’ micro waves and give you hot rounds
I got this ratchet bitch and it’s makin’ thot sounds
It be like, “Nigga you ain’t my baby daddy.”
It’ll slap the hearin’ out you like Fox Brown

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
I don’t care if you Crip/Blood, I rip mugs
Big slugs on me, a grave will get dug
I carry (Carrie) like pig blood on me
Wait, Carrie, pig blood, no I was just lost
I meant to say I carry like an Iverson cross
This guy is a boss? Stop the lies
You never touched no crack
Ironic how my niggas will hem you up but they cut no slack
We cut throat cats, leave guys dead over bills
Yo’ bitch gave me brain for a pair of shoes, now she’s head over heels
You’ll take bread over skill
Fuck that, I’m monumental
Yo’ bars still wack, no matter the times you spit ’em
I don’t care how many niggas you bring or what time you get ’em
Just know they gettin’ the same thing, that’s communism
Economics, communism? Y’all don’t wanna hear politics in battle rap
That’s ironic though because there’s a whole lot of politics in battle rap
I was taught, if a nigga tried you fo’ yo’ shit then you battled back
Either with yo’ fist or you see Hawks (Seahawks) like Hasselbeck
This a sport though nigga
If He-Man enough he could get a circle ’round his stomach like Orko nigga
I don’t care if you with yo’ bitch, soon as we spot you we gon’ pop Rugers
We tryin’ to get you, but don’t care if we graze yo’ Suge like ‘Pac shooters
What will I think of next?
Money think he safe ’til I hit him with an armored truck, now he’s on the Brink of death
We carry flames, for bitch niggas like you, that’s on everythang
To be blunt, you’ll be rolled up for that green, he’s being Mary Jane
I’m very ashamed, you cut from a different pedigree
I failed CPR cause this nigga isn’t in the same breath as me
Allegedly, he keeps a K, I’ll peel his cap, he’s a frail capo
You’ll be found sleeping next to that chopper like El Chapo
My boy dumps for me
If you see what he has bro (Hasbro) you’ll know why he keeps his toys company
Comfortably, you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit

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