Nu Jerzey Twork vs. Swamp [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Swamp]
Muhfucka you ain’t the only one with a few screws missin’
This dude trippin’
I’m nothin’ like these other motherfuckas
Prime example: If I would’ve shot your car bitch
I would’ve made sure it had you in it
You play stupid with me tonight and you gon’ be dead faggot
From lead blastin’
Talkin’ ’bout there’s somethin’ wrong under the hood; check engine light
BAOW! I know, a blown head gasket
And consider this as just a warnin’
Any one of you motherfuckas can join him
But as for this new found Blood
Let’s just say y’all gon’ be short one Piru in the mornin’
This is the type of nigga I’ll pistol whip until the handle breaks
You wanna know how I know you won’t survive where I’m from?
We don’t like sudden movements
And ya hands too shaky
Always pullin’ out these fuckin’ pistols, and ain’t shot shit
Nigga please try me
Pull a pistol on me and don’t use it Twork, it’s one of my dreams
To catch a free body
I know you ain’t used to gettin’ no [?] much as you kiss and tell
You thought it was cool to tell the story about Easy bitch, or even Coffee bruh?
Shit like that make me wanna peel that nose ring to the back of your scalp like a gas station coffee cup
I’m not playin’ with this mothafucka
This nigga done
Fuck yo’ Bigga .9, bitch I got a bigger gun
I never been one for the games
But I’ll be damned if I won’t let one of these bullets go on a Temple Run
I’m not playin’ wit’ this nigga
You beat up Norbes and you a Piru
Whooptie doo
You think I fuckin’ care?
I’ll be done killed yo’ ass, take yo’ flag and send yo’ mama yo’ blood in some Tupperware
But this mothafucka’s Strapped In
He’ll clap me in a coma
Not knowin’ it’s Gladness
Cause bitch I ain’t dead and I can come back at any moment
And if I do I’m poppin’ shit
Cockin’ shit
Clumpsy mothafucka, known for droppin’ shit
You a bitch homie, I’ll lift on him
The fifth on him
He ran down on my grandma with a pocketbook, with a big .40
She let him get away too, I told her to
He too big for ya
Thought he got away without a witness
Only to make it around the corner and realize the Sig’ saw ya
You really think I’m cappin’ in my rappin’?
I feel it like wala
These are all things I’m willin’ to die ’bout
Nigga, you really wanna die ’bout a trigger?
12 gauge under ya chin
It won’t be the first time a Shotgun been under you
And the buckshot spreadin’ up like a Wi-Fi symbol
All this, Twork gon’ tower of me and bully me, I’m like, “Bitch please.”
You mind tellin’ me what the fuck that shit mean?
Shit, I actually prefer all my enemies six feet
If this yo’ mans, you better have a talk with this mothafucka Jerusalem
Fuck a battle, I’ma be recappin’…me shootin’ him
This bitch’ll put an end to Twork like Diamond tellin’ Ebony to get out the car with Cube and ’em
And I learned to aim with big shit and big moments
I remember shootin’ at one of mom dukes boyfriends one time
Right after the motherfucker tried stabbin’ me
And the whole time I’m tryin’ to get my shot off, my mama just kept grabbin’ me
But let’s just say this .357 python the closest thing I ever got to mamba mentality
Swamp town

[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
You told me, at the Face Off last night that I was highly amazin’
You right
And I’m prolly your favorite
I only called you out to teach you somethin’ you not even dangerous
You hopped on some fuck shit, hopped on some gay shit
All the battle rappers you could’ve talked about
Lux, Surf, Mook, Roc and his Cave men
That’s more names than the Call Of Duty lobby
Better go find you somebody to play wit’
I’m not the one
This shit absurd
You can talk about how I take deposits, you can talk about how I steal a purse
You can tell me how ya pistol burst
Tell me how you pitch the [?]
But fix ya words
You say one wrong thing to me, you gettin’ served
Nigga emo
He gonna tell me what he cut like, but he know not to hit a nerve
I be done sparked it on him
This be y’all boy? I’ma do his nigga awful awful
Rip him up, right by ya man collar
What? You done lost ya damn marbles?
I’ll burn ya shit, 30 clip
Pull up, I’ll triple dog dare you, that’s a Cerberus
30 clip
Nah, cannon flare, air ya shit
You gon’ pray to God, still a hammer flare and hit ya shit
This soul food, you not gonna see the man upstairs until the end
Breakin’ and enterin’, at ya house, and we comin’ in
I’m talkin’ .40 on my hip
You said you know where I’m at by how the floor creak?
Bitch I’ma let you know I’m in that bitch
I’m talkin’ stomp floors, boom boom
Glock roar
Nothin’ in the living room we gon’ head to the top floor
Swamp room shut all tight, knock hard
Boom, boom, boom, boom, pop four
Break in, skully halfway down, no more locked door



[Round 2: Swamp]
They told me it was evident I’d lose this battle
Told me, focus on gettin’ through my rounds and not winnin’ instead
I ain’t gon’ lie I kinda dig what they said
Then I thought about my real life
Like, you know how many times I already done lost to the pen’ and the lead?
Do you have fuckin’ idea what I think about when I look at you?
A big fuckin’ vagina
[?] who love Timberland’s; Puss N Boots
And as for your used to be fuckin’ crew
Tell that fat pale fucker Glue’, “I don’t fuck witchu.”
Quit screamin’ out “Carolinas” when you’re doin’ shit like fuckin’ with these fuckin’ goofs
That lame mothafucka Lu?
Make you wanna run up on him and make the .4 spit
Always laughin’ and gigglin’ and flexin’
What’s so funny about him perfectin’ and runnin’ off wit’ yo’ shit?
That mothafucka Drugz, that nigga Drugz, you wanna be a manager so bad
The type of nigga that catch you walkin’ in work late like, “Damn bruh, you know what time it is?”
The mothafucker you just can’t seem to pay to mind his biz’
But he just like you
Love pullin’ out pistols and ain’t shot shit
Well I have yet to see ya guns blast
You should’ve taken that 59 hours and stayed gone the first time
Cause after they shot yo’ shit up, that’s how long it too someone to leave yo’ dumb ass
These the type of mothafuckas, the main reason why I’m packin’ the TEC
What y’all think y’all me with my baby mamas?
Fuckin’ up all these relationships, only to get back with the ex?
Man let me had been Moon, beatin’ Drugz the fuck up and dropped his bitch ass
The minute you brought yo’ big pussy ass anywhere in my direction
One of them boys behind me would’ve shot yo’ bitch ass
The minute you get hype and yell “Madness!” the metal finna bang
The basketball Ace snitchin’ with the [?] in it
Yeah bitch after this round yo’ bounce will never be the same
Yo’ crew act up, I’m shootin’ ya teammates then
Bangers drop
Twork (twerk) hit; Ying Yang Twinz
I’m tellin’ you, somebody better get big fella
I’m really wit’ whatever
Fuck around and go from Rockets to Hawks; Clint Capela
My life is a movie, you need the script
You bang the .5 I bang and plead the fifth
Wit’ yo’ bitch ass
All that gangsta shit knowin’ they down low though
But try me
I be done put two P’s in a box like the PayPal logo
But everything about you real, right?
Nah, ain’t shit about you official bitch
Let’s keep it official, bitch
Cut the jazz (Jaz), you lost to O’fficial bitch
You ran into Geechi I said, “Damn. Somebody else done smoked him again.”
Left his fuckin’ brains open again
Talkin’ ’bout you “got Got’ and got Got'” bitch you sound like you was chokin’ again
Now he’s talkin’ like he’s gonna pull up
Like that ain’t a bad plan or somethin’
Man try me like you didn’t know it
I swear to God it won’t be your best night
I’m a southpaw, I’ll fuck around and hit him with the left twice
I know he big, he wanna grapple, so I put the elbow in his chest, right?
But y’all know how you on the interstate and see your exit?
Yeah bitch I’m gettin’ off on this next right
This high point I had since high school, it jammed a couple of times, but it’s good to me
I call it my Derek Rose shooter
But the P-90 had the Heat flyin’ like Derrick Jones Jr
Ya mother was the worst pastor
Her bitch ass son a purse snatcher
Lame bitch who do lame shit
When you shoulda been and got murked after
That’s why I bought something that dump 50
And then dump a whole ‘nother 50 cause the clip in this bitch reverse after
I know you Strapped In
But if you strapped then I guess the rest of ’em strapped in
But try goin’ berserk on us
Fuck around and find Lu Glue’d to Twork on Drugz like a lap dance
Fuck you

[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
Shaun Paige
I kinda made it hard for myself, I wish I could switch my speech
I told you last night I wasn’t gon’ flip ya rap name cause shit, that’s weak
I mean you ain’t…lyrical, layered
You damn sure don’t spit like me
Ya name’s “Swamp” so you don’t even get that deep
I go in his place
He act like he don’t know where’s the safe
I bet you change your mind if you get poked wit’ a blade
21 Savage, it’s a knife, oh now it’s written all over ya face
Get cooked for nothin’
I need you in the casket put to slumber
Your mother gonna yell, “Oh Paige (page)!”
Pastor readin’ from the book of Numbers
Push a button, that’s what you get for tryin’ wit’ us
Blade, stuck in his stomach, push ya lining up
I commend you for standing here, cause this took a lot of guts
This a horror made scene
Blade all into his spleen
I’ll pull out, pull out, Larkin, spray and squeeze
Shaun (Shawn) staring at the cannon, look Marlon, say “cheese”
Thangs squeeze
I keep it in the hoodie, but, but, I keep it in the hoodie, but but but I got a vest…in case you grab the heater and you pull it
But I got a vest in case you grab the heater and you pull it
I grab a vest in case you grab the heater and you pull it
…I can’t even get through my material and neither can the bullet
Big shit, hit Swamp Paige chest when the shit lit
The bullet ain’t too far from his heart, ’bout…an inch length
I need a couple spaces over for Paige (page), like an indent
Big Bloods, big Crips
I got niggas in Charleston, Columbia, they passin’ Blood’s blocks
Where you from Shaun (Shawn)? Marion? You’ll get your ugly ass shot
That’s this bitch’s fate
Yeah we battlin’ in the day but I’ll make this nigga wait
You gon’ tell the fans, “Oh he be cheatin’ y’all.”
Hip hip hooray
Go ‘head pander (Panda) Express, that ain’t gon’ get you a bigger plate
Bigga .9 hit his face
I hit the grave, hit the weight, sit and wait
Only thing I need is the drop like Triple H

{Cuts his round short}

[Round 3: Swamp]
I said I got a gun so big
(How big is it?)
That mothafucka wouldn’t even fit in this bitch
Y’all heard that mothafucka laughin’ and gigglin’ the whole time?
I wonder if Tay Roc held the do’ for you to get in this bitch
The fuck wrong witchu?
I hear you back there ya lil’ cheerleadin’ ass
You really hate the fact that motherfuckas fuck wit’ me
Not knowin’ they fuck wit’ me cause I really be spittin’ from the soul
Shit really that I know
You would think in a sport like this the real would prevail
Well that ain’t really how it goes
It’s more about entertainment and puttin’ on a show
Which is the main reason I never complain when they had Twork (twerk) winnin’ on the polls (poles)
Now the first time I seen you, you was killin’ Redd Handed
But when you think about it, that’s the only motherfucka you ever cooked and fried
I seen what you did to Dougy
That was your loud mouth and aggression the reason his shit got pushed aside
The respect was mutual as hell
So I can’t really say you shook his pride
He just failed at doin’ the only thing that it really take to beat this mothafucka
Shit…nigga look alive
You know why I really think you not the best?
Cause you get on stage half assin’, not ya best
All that fuckin’ bullshit damn talent goin’ to waste
Make me wanna pull up with the MAC’s dumpin’
And put yo’ fuckin’ head on the guillotine on detach somethin’
Or shit….I don’t know, maybe take over that nigga job with the beard and Smack somethin’
How many times you gon’ reuse rounds?
You said the same thing to Geechi that you said to Bruce Wayne
Ooops, you fucked up
Yeah Twork, what’s up?
Shit like that make me wanna run up with one up and one tucked like nun chucks
Now I’m glad that mothafuckas kinda fuck wit’ that, cause that was one of yo’ moves
That shit was old as fuck bruh
They told me you was gonna come here wit’ throw up rounds and reuse shit
I ain’t doubt ’em
I just ’em, “Fuck him. He either gon’ pass the torch or I’ma knock the flame out him.”
I finally get what Hitman Holla meant
When he said niggas reuse the bullets that came out him
But this URL golden child
Stealin’ deposits, no showing
Beatin’ up no neck harmless fat people
But the shit you did at Royalty Day 2 really made me wanna leave you dead outside
Why the fuck y’all boys ain’t tell them mothafuckas you went ’round the corner and handled shit outside?
Got mothafuckas runnin’ and duckin’ and shit
Knowin’ damn well it wasn’t even no threat outside
Mothafuckas was really scared over there
Y’all wasn’t the only mothafuckas wit’ pistols
Niggas could’ve really been dead over there
But y’all would rather be females playin’ Ezal, knowin’ you need to get the fuck up it ain’t even wet over there
I know these niggas trippin’
Shit hit ya soul and prolly burn, right?
But you lucky it’s a battle instead of a straight shot like the New Jersey turnpike
Is this yo’ mothafuckin’ man?
You better have a talk with this mothafucka Jerezsalem
Fuck a battle nigga
If they wanna find any part of Jerusalem they gon’ have to go to the Dead Sea to fish in to get him
But you so Biblical, that’s the main reason I wrap yo’ casket in Corinthian leather
Fuck you
Swamp Town nigga

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I said, Glock’ll enter the room
You better get on the ground and stomp wit’ every move
Lay you down with the heat like a tanning bed
Look what you got yourself into
Y’all got this shit confused
I ain’t hatin’ on him
Alright maybe I am
Give it up, don’t even try it you won’t make it
There I go hatin’ again
Long weapon
See, get on the ground, there I go hatin’ again



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