Murda Mook vs. Tay Roc [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Murda Mook]
Ayo, congratulations, Pebbles, you did it
You done jumped in your Uncle Smack lap
You asked what’s in his knapsack
He pulled out a box wit’ a ribbon, big enough to fit you in it
But you got hope
‘Cause conversation of the GOAT…you winnin’ most likely gets you in it
It’s just wack
The only nigga that had your back, you put a knife in his to get it
You snaked Brizz – don’t say you didn’t
If that’s your man, why you ain’t convince him it should be him spittin’?
You done blindsided your own pupil out his vision
But I (eye) ain’t trippin’
I bet this the last your stupid ass gon’ be jumpin’ in his business
No cap, so you don’t get none of this shit twisted
This battle? It ain’t about who the fuck is the pen wizard
This is for hard-headed slick niggas
And since you wanted Brizz whippin’, think Summer Impact again wit’ it
These punches gon’ hit different
Nigga, you a snake
When you talk and I listen, I don’t hear words, I hear hissin’
Sss…the way you and URL set up Brizz? That shit sad
Guess you think your turn next (necks)
This fast’ll give me whiplash
You can’t be from the trenches, ’cause if you was, you would know this shit math
Once Raw turned into Roc(k), it gotta get bagged
This y’all King of Pop!? Beat It
The whole world saw your bitch ass
All that moonwalkin’ on stage shit – you did Bad!
How you gon’ tell me I (eye) change, but got the nerve to have on contacts?
But you didn’t have the nerve to put on when it was contact!
If you was anywhere next to Raw, you was supposed to lock up when the fire was on max
But you cut wack
We saw Roc(k) in hot water…he ain’t come back!
“Another cut, another cut, another cut”
Where the fuck was all that!?
You fitted for this New Era: nigga, you all cap
All that “Cave Gang shit”, that was all act
When it was live and direct, it was, “Quiet for the set!”
We saw all that violence in your raps, they props
And the real movie started soon as the actin’ stopped
Then, you got caught lyin’ in blogs and all that
And y’all fans who overlooked that? Y’all fuckin’ up the format
‘Cause battle rap ain’t supposed to have the kinda fans that ignore that
I don’t give a fuck how good you battle!
If you can’t be a man, I can’t be a fan
All forms of respect you shoulda lost that
Talkin’ ’bout, “I ain’t see Mook when niggas was fightin'”
And y’all applaud that
Where the fuck y’all grew up at!?
Dickhead! How the fuck you tryin’ the nigga that tell the nigga who set it off that!?
But you know what? You right
You ain’t see me in a fight – that’s a for sure fact
‘Cause we on stage, where the brawl at
You was by the exit playin’ the floor mat
Guess you ain’t wanna en-door (endure) that
Then the fans ask, “Well, Mook, ain’t you in breach? ‘Cause they say it’s no-contact in the contract.”
Well, how’s that?
When all I did what I’m advised at
I just crossed T and dotted a eye (I) black
I’m a man of little words, Roc: read to find (redefine) that
John Hancock: signature right that’ll clarify where the line at!
Then you tried to sell “I ran after I swung”
Who buyin’ that?
First off, how he was gon’ know if I ran (Iran) if he got his eye racked (Iraq)!?
And please, don’t even think I’m glorifyin’ that
‘Cause I’m not
Listen, Roc, you ain’t in tune wit’ the block
Nobody know a dude that you shot!
The only TECs (text) you shoot, they blue wit’ the dots
You just a kid that was cool, so you rocked
So whether you knew it or not, I’ll lose props for havin’ you as a opp!
Porkchop!
Call docs, they examine your body: autops’
Saw him after, he walked right past us – thought not
Ain’t seen a sucka haul (Hall) off that fast since cough drops!
(*cough*)
The fuck y’all mean “Gun Bar King!?”
No, you the fuck not!
I don’t wanna hear no heavy metal you blastin’
You a punk, Roc(k)!
We saw you in action, you wasn’t active
All them punches you got, and you ain’t let one drop
You a faggot!
You wouldn’t square up for a jump shot!
Y’all jack a nigga who took a plea, when the plan was to go to trial wit’ ya co-de’
Bellhop Roc, ain’t help Brizz to pop
I thought Roc(k) was supposed to be solid
How you couldn’t even send the block (cinderblock)?
Niggas that stand next to doors will get you knocked
Shit you not, you told Brizz, “Break a leg” so he could cripple his stock, before he get too hot
Niggas like Roc? They’ll gas you to be loyal
To keep you close ’til they destroy you
Y’all don’t know how deep the wicket (wicked) is that’ll loom in them (aluminum) when they not for you
I’m at hot water boil
Or get metal rounds, break the coil
I’da saw you at the door ajar, and I’da broke Roc(k) down to the oil
Brizz and his niggas should’ve caught you and beat the brakes off you
‘Cause you a coward
And if you from the street, you already know the time I’m on if that’s somethin’ I’ll call you
Coward!
The reason why your raps tonight ain’t gon’ stack against this?
‘Cause they packed wit’ a lotta hypothetically clappin’ niggas and mad opinions
My shit is shit people actually witnessed
That’s the difference
You Power-trippin’
My fans get the entire picture
But your fans, they need proof
That’s why I’m glad everybody got to witness the Tommy turn Ghost…
Heh, you James St. Patrick, Roc: you ’bout to die on your own truth
Nigga, you heard it first
This the GOAT, givin’ out that Curry work
You ’bout to get 30’d, prob’ly Jersey wit’ the Wave and the rafters
Be worried, Surf
You a bati, boy, and I know what ya makin’ (Jamaican) for you to whip a verse
You gettin’ burnt
How you don’t care bein’ (Caribbean) the one always gettin’ your chicken jerked!?
The butt of the gun pon Roc top, watch his bomboclaat
The chop, feed this pussy the whole fuckin’ stock
Lift him out his fuckin’ socks!
100 shots make him helicop’
Lift a faggot off the floor
That blade musta spun a lot
And them bars hit, if you love the shot
Look, double-barrel
A pair’ll, leave you in peril
Battlewise, a pair of lies’ll (paralyze) legal impair you
That a pair of legal, that’s for paralegals to handle
Keep it street, I dare you!
Pair of Eagles underneath my ‘pparel!
Before you even get to blink, I’ll air you!
Nigga, you a bitch
You gon’ forever be a bitch!
And you ain’t never gon’ forget!
This the Statue of Liberty, Roc: forever gon’ be lit!
Fuck them candy bars, nigga! I ain’t never gon’ be tricked
I don’t give a fuck if it’s Halloween!
A clown never gon’ be It!
Nigga, Eazy!

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
You laid the foundation down…but we built where the fuck we at
Don’t give a fuck what you did in the past! You just comin’ back
Imagine somebody showin’ you where you used to do construction at
Like, “You see this hundred-story skyscraper? I put cement under that.”
Clown…I know you ain’t been around
It’s been awhile
It is marble on every floor and elevators in this building now
If URL was really a house or somethin’
The nigga screamin’, “That’s LIGHT!” is the reason the power runnin’
You know how I’m comin’
I’ll put you out your misery, nigga
Record deals you used to have? Shit a memory, nigga
You’ve dropped nothin’ hot in history, nigga!
I’d rather be a god-tier battle rapper than a bottom-tier industry ni-
What you supposed to be? Some type of lyrical miracle?
My nigga, you say stupid shit that’s hysterical!
You told Lux, “You are more hypocritical than a dyin’ hippopotamus”
TERRIBLE!
That shit was so unable to bear: unbearable
swear if you, act up, I’mma make it all spooky
One thing you better control is the way you talk to me
I won’t play wit’ y’all goofies
I am not a PG
I’m somethin’ I don’t think Murda seen (murder scene): I’m a rated-R movie
When I was Dot Mob, I played my position
I never played you
When everybody turned they back on y’all, I stayed true
I coulda left when K-Shine left, joined DNA too
I left wit’ the crew I came in with: my Cave crew
Me not helpin’ Brizz…had me stressin’
I was dead bwrong for not helpin’ Brizz, no exceptions
I learned my lesson
You talkin’ ’bout me holdin’ doors?
Question…
That door I was holdin’ in the fight was backstage
Why ain’t you come in that direction?
Pussy!
You speak on me not fightin’? Kinda awkward
You swung and poof…disappeared
You the reason the drama started
You ain’t stick around for action
Why you put on this front?
You left Detroit niggas fightin’ backstage and…went out the front!
You are not live, you big bitch!
You swung, missed, we got rushed by Detroit niggas
Nobody in Dot Mob did shit!
Bitch, you real bitter
Fuck how you feel, nigga
Who are you to tell anybody that they ain’t a real nigga?
Don’t worry ’bout me, don’t ask me my business
Where were you when Rex got his ass beat on Lenox?
Somebody posted a pic of his eye…yo!
Shit look like he got hit by a Tahoe!
His face swole, nose bust, and his eye closed
It coulda been my fault, he prob’ly was high
I wanna see if you can get this riddle
My Expert Opinion: you shouldn’t be having shits and giggles wit’ a nigga that pistol-whipped you!
Shit is simple
Nigga split your temple, somethin’ dent your mental
Nigga left Murda beat: he killed a instrumental!
You shittin’ me!?
Ask this dumb nigga what’s wrong wit’ him
That nigga split your head open, to the white meat, and then you did a song wit’ him!
Aye, that sound like good bargainin’
Y’all want a feature from Mook? Don’t pay him
Just pistol-whip him and crack his skull again
You comprehend?
Nigga, you ain’t safe unless you walkin’ in wit’ a bodyguard
Even he gon’ need somebody guardin’ him
Boy, you are softer than the softener your shit is washin’ in
I’ll have it to where you passed, your pastor passin’ ’round offerings
No arguin’
I’ll be like, “Let’s go live on the ‘Gram”
Dap you, then slap you: I got bipolar hands
We can’t compare resumes, mine’s over fam’s
I’m the Gun Bar King, I never met a phase (metaphase) where my toast is (mitosis) jammed!
Play wit’ me crazy
Tay’ll get angry
Rest in Peace, Party Arty: I will have Murda face a P80
Your roof’ll get shot, I’ll bang a .380
Snoop on your block, murder Murda, and ‘Murder Was the Case’ that they gave me
You really should stop, or really get shot
Hittin’ your top
This inf’ red foreheads: it’s a Indian dot
Gimme ya Glock! Semis’ll pop
They won’t know what happened to Mook
Murda (murder) unsolved…rest in peace, Biggie and ‘Pac
I had to kill Rex, one round
In Philly, he dropped
Now I’m givin’ the General Mills: it’s a cereal box!
I might flip
Let this butterfly knife flip, slice shit
187, Method Man wit’ the ice pick type shit
Bitch, clamp ya head in a vise grip
Leave him there for 1,400 hours – I know it sound type slick
But on military time, it’s type sick!
Forensics found Murda (Murderat 1600
Who seen that Wesley Snipes flick?
I know the basics
Roc(k) is still active like open cases
Open faces, like Taraji wit’ the rifle in Smokin’ Aces
I’ll leave you in the desert, I will find a hole in Vegas
And that’s How to Get Away with Murda (Murder): Viola Davis!
You not the truth
Pussy, you ain’t a nigga that I salute
If it’s beef, I don’t apologize…I cop a deuce
I’ll let goblins loose, they don’t wanna hear no kinda truce
Rock his roof, his this Cat in the Hat: Dr.-
I got the juice
You thought you was educated?
Boy, you’d put a hit out on Roc and be devastated
Come to find out the hitter you sent to me never made it
He hesitated, when they found Murda’s man slaughtered: it was premeditated
You talk stupid, I’mma split this nigga mug
If I’m ever stealin’ (steel in) a bar, there’s a pistol in the club
My bitch creep up wit’ somethin’ resemblin’ a snub
BANG! That was “Murda” (MurderShe Wrote on the window in his blood
Knocked his brains out, murk him wit’ a .9
He landed head-first in his brain matter: I put Murda (murder) on his mind!
Boy, you straight twat
Fuckin’ wit’ Tay Roc? I think not
I’ll push a blade in, ’til the blade stop
Twist it
If I can’t get it out ’cause the blade locked in his tank top
I drag Hawks ‘cross Mookie chest: Blaylock!
He’ll straight drop!
This rifle’ll hit his head
If whoever got your back alive, it’ll be Night of the Living Dead
I’m the nigga that this nigga can’t body
I don’t care how long you rap
See, Murda (C-Murder)? No Limit can’t stop me
Rap

[Round 2: Murda Mook]
Yo, all jokes aside…
When I just listened to you rappin’…choreographin’…’bout how you ’bout to make all of this dyin’ happen…
It took every bone in my body to not start dyin’ laughin’
Yo, Roc, everything violent that you say gon’ happen is not gon’ happen
My Detroit niggas already showed you the one be lyin’ (Lion), cappin’
But wait a minute, hold up
Y’all hear that?
“Hello! (Hello?…)
Is anybody home? (Is anybody home?…)”
No vacant!
Roc, where everybody in the Cave went?
They escaped to civili-za-tion!
They figured out they ain’t gotta stick to Roc(k) to get they flame lit
You tricked them, you ain’t train them
All that gas, all them matches, you gave ’em
But they talent set the blazin’
Somehow you made ’em believe friction is how it got created
Now, I know y’all thinkin’, “That’s basic information. Where they been?”
But duh! They been livin’ under a Roc(k): they was Cave men!
All them skeletons of yours you thought was lost?
Ain’t no favoritism pickin’ which bone marrow, and I brought ’em all
Push a pawn off a board
I helped you sow your royal oats
That’s what I brought you to the city for
So JayBlac, when King Jaffe around Roc, I ain’t with none of that semi (Semmi) talk!
You wanna switch roles wit’ me? Pause
But it’s yours
Fire lead in your hat
Now you King Jaffe, Roc…lyin’ (lion) dead on your back!
It ain’t where you from, pussy – it’s where you at
That’s why I came all the way where I’m from to where you at
I dare you at
Tranquilizer leave a bear relaxed
Die wit’ ya eyes open – let’s have a staring match!
The hammer clap, ’til the handle burn like candle wax
Tre on your hat, you don’t even get a Chance to rap
Dead rappin’ better promotion, see his fans react
I told Smack, “I need chicken”, he sent the FAMILY PACK!
If we warrin’, then we warrin’ then
I’m Balrog, let’s brawl again
You will get pressed then stretched like an accordian
Boy, you’ll get whip(ped) to next week like the DeLorean
I see they done switched up the playboard for him
Well, whatever offense y’all niggas put Jordan in, I’m scorin’ then
Oh, you Jazz-talkin’? Let the vault spin, I’m locked in
Ain’t no pick-and-rolls either, Roc
I create my own options like, “If I see him alone (Malone), give him the whole stock then (Stockton)!”
Niggas say, “Mook, you hate Roc!”
…Aight, and?
“But hate is a strong word like…what if, God forbid, tomorrow, you find out Tay a goner?”
I say, “Nigga, that’d be a weight lifted. I wish it was a way I could make it stronger.”
Roc, you gon’ respect me, boy
And these foul lines is ’cause I’m tryna make a extra point
I hope you spiritual…not wit’ these dark forces you would hit-
Dracula? Nigga, who’s scared of you?
Matter fact…if bein’ Dracula don’t tell y’all he a sucka
You can’t say it no clearer
How y’all put stake in the heart of a nigga who can’t look himself in the mirror!?
Well, let’s see if this shit is all a myth
I got a clip full of garlic-dipped hollow-tips
What happen when you swallow this?
Sleep in a casket tight, exactly how you like
I go to your funeral, I talk sarcastic on the mic like, “He Dracula, right?
Then y’all good – he should be back by tonight.”
Hand of God, straight to Pearly Gates: Smack White
Son raise (Sunrays) ain’t dawn on Tay ’til the morning…that’s light
I’ll hurt the back outta wife
Well, tell that bitch watch her mouth ‘fore I gag it shut
Grab her up, let her know she don’t be around smack enough
She talk like a Goon, like bullet wounds ain’t about jack (Jakk’) to her
Well, let’s see if she feel like that after she gotta Count Dracula’s!
You ain’t do it wit’ Hustle
Callin’ Troy Mitchell your uncle is what gave you credentials
Fuck you thought, biggin’ Chess (chest) up was gon’ make you official (O’fficial)?
What about them videos of you spreadin’ open your asshole you gave to O’fficial?
That’s on my mother grave, all of this true – sorry, O’fficial
And them niggas from the Cave found out that shit, too
That’s why they ain’t wit’ you!
Look, you see Brizz ain’t on Roc set
You startin’ to show distance a lot, Chess
Ave left the Cave – nigga, see what you got left!?
Wait a minute…when A-V-E leave the C-A-V-E, C what you got left
Right, see, you been suckin’ Rajon so long, guaranteed you got cock breath
Look, that nigga Surf is sick of you
He been wanted to get rid of you, but he stuck around…typical
Y’all relationship ain’t reciprocal
Nigga, Roc the help
Well, I give it true
I’ll leave that shit to Tsu to play Mystikal
But yeah, you wanna shake your ass!
You ever watch yourself!?
That nigga Surf talk to you on Live like you are not yourself!
You killin’ his business
You got him against a Roc(k) and a hard place
He know you Manolo, but don’t got the cojones to play Scarface
Surf, you sound like a goofie!
“But Mookie…Mookie, Roc(k) kept callin’!”
Shut the fuck up!
The only real way you stop fuckin’ wit’ Roc is with drawin’ (withdrawin’)
Motherfuckin’ right
You a cartoonist
The only guns you drew is the ones you drew so much when they write
You give us illusions, they were startin’ to come to life
But…that’s right
Batman, Cave Gang
Well, Roc, it ain’t the same thing
My gun go “Bang”
Your gun say “Bang”
Say, mayne, wait a minute, you takin’ this Bat shit too far
Now you want us to believe you can see sound?
That’s impossible
Wait, but if that’s logical
When I got you and the Wave bouncin’ off walls from this TEC echo, locate (echolocate) a hospital
I’mma sit here and play blind wit’ you
But Roc, these ain’t just lyrics, this shit is Braille
And to make sure you see what I’m sayin’, I gotta make you feel it!
Wait, where was your imaginary Dezzi when you was Mario Andretti?
Imposters (im-pastas) want sauce until their legs turn spaghetti
Then the Culture got mad I spoke facts – I wasn’t ready
How I get killed for talkin’ real? I feel like Dr. Sebi
You ’bout to see the greatest ever milk this game: legen-dairy
Ben & Jerry, said Ben & Jerry’s, get hit in flurries
It’s gettin’ scary, his vision blurry
Tell medics “Hurry”, dead in his telly
Turn a bed and breakfast to a bed and buried!
I see you been hangin’ ’round T-Top a lot!
So what? They all scared
But look, all’s fair in warfare
Your boy Bear, he poor bears
Pallbearers done pour beer for poor Bear
I’mma say that shit one more time real slow…so you hear
I said…all’s fair in warfare
Your boy Bear, he poor bears
His pallbearers done pour beer for poor Bear
“Aye, Roc on FIRE!
Piss on that nigga, I don’t care!
‘Cause this Macho Man ran, he (Randy) Savage all year
Nigga, you a bitch
You gon’ forever be a bitch!
And you ain’t never gon’ forget!
This the Statue of Liberty, Roc: forever gon’ be lit!
Fuck them candy bars, nigga! I ain’t never gon’ be tricked
Give a fuck if it’s Halloween!
A clown never gon’ be It!
Nigga, EAZY!
…Stupid-ass contacts in your fuckin’ eyes

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Battle rap…would be boring without the grace of me
Whenever I’m not around, y’all be boring ’em, basically
I should fall back a card or two, just to make ’em see
All it takes is one boring card
Soon as some more gets bored (smorgasbord), they’ll have a plate for me
Bitch, you can be I’m the alpha: I’m talkin’ A to Z
They gon’ patiently wait for me while you die painfully
Don’t play wit’ me
Aye, we all gathered here tonight
Everybody, bow your heads at y’all table and say grace wit’ me
God, forgive me – gotta murder Mook ‘fore he murder me
Treat this battle like I’m fightin’ a murder case purposely
But facin’ Murda won’t worry me, certainly
I’mma beat Murda (murder), first, second, and third de-
Amen
You heard of me
Roc been here for eternity
This blade for emergency
I’ll do a surgery perfectly, cut vertically
Catch ya newborn inside a nursery
Bury him, your seed’ll be the first planted (planet): Mercury
Currently, I’m the best, in history
The rest disagree
I’m facin’ Murda, but you facin’ the death penalty
BANG! I could kill him with less energy
Have somethin’ Loaded in front of Mook: this gon’ be the best trilogy
Yeah, they say I really be trippin’ grippin’ this .38
Bang! Make the soul of Murda rise wit’ the murder rate
Terminate
This whole place’ll be flames if you play Tay
I just wrapped some old tape on the K: Ray J
You know how they say cigs is a gateway drug?
Put a Sig (cig’) in your mouth, you’ll get drug through a gateway
If niggas ask how I been, then this what I may say
“I’m doin’ fine. You seen my last battle? I had a great Da-“
Loyal to this league, I’m grateful
I ain’t mad what I’m paid
I been ignorin’ all the questions that they had for the Cave
Since they no longer see (C) Ave, it’s, “What’s Cave without Ave?
What’s Ave without Cave?”
I’m ’bout to have an outrage
This is actually my stage
All the classics I made, all the passion I gave
Even though niggas jumped ship
I could run shit without one nigga on my team on some Donald Trump sh-
You on Trump dick!
Tell ’em that when you go and perform
The way you take up for Trump, it (trumpet) seems like you wanna blow on his horn
know you a corn!
You easily offend me! I see you buggin’
You got white bitches callin’ you “nigga” – you ain’t even fuckin’
You thought that swing was meanin’ somethin’?
You gon’ end up like Caine at the end of that movie: I’ll lean a (Ilena) cousin
And your bitch better not speak or nothin’!
Yeah, y’all hear me back there! Yeah!
You gon’ end up like Caine at the end of that movie: I’ll lean a (Ilena) cousin
And your bitch better not speak or nothin’!
She try to get out a sentence? (*smack*) Butt her (butter) in the middle: she a English muffin
Her teeth I’m crunchin’
Sound like she speakin’ Russian
I’ll reach for somethin’, heaters dumpin’, people runnin’
Them be the reprecussions
Mook, learn your bitch ass some manners in my castle
What you got…one, two, three, four, five battles?
Nigga, I been there and done that like time travel
I’ll clap you, then bury the stainless steel: it’s a time capsule
Give MM this .9mm, lean one
Since your initials is M and M (Eminem), I brought a Machine Gun
Clean one, shoestring, and a ‘K strapped to it
Money on his head, I’ll put a G on MM and make Maybach Music
John Ancrum, you in some shit
Don’t act like you innocent
I’m the nigga that this nigga can’t body!
I don’t care how long you rap
See, Murda (C-Murder)? No Limit can’t stop me!
Rap, pussy

[Round 3: Murda Mook]
Yo, I ain’t gon’ lie, all jokes aside…
When I just listened to you rappin’…choreographin’…’bout how you ’bout to make all of this dyin’ happen…
It took every bone in my body to not bust out dyin’ laughin’
You said this shit is about angles and schemes, a lot of content
But…all you do is kill niggas every round
Other than that, you not sayin’ a thing
You know what? Fuck you and your mom’s a bitch
Lemme say that shit again
Fuck you…and your mom’s a bitch
…Oh, that prob’ly don’t register, right?
That’s ’cause in the physical, your moms exist
Y’all don’t remember? “Say it again!”
It was mainly him egging that shit on wit’ Brizz
In hindsight, those sentiments were more yours than his
My mom’s a bitch? That wasn’t even creative, Roc
No metaphors or flips
The sheer disrespect is why you knew that bar would hit
Losin’ any family member hurt – that’s common sense
But losin’ your mother? That’s hard as hard could get
You wake up every morning sick, can’t do nothin’ more than wish
Your whole reality torn to bits
My mom’s a bitch?
Wait a minute – my mother talkin’ – sshhh…
She told me to tell you next time, be careful wit’ the forces you talkin’ against
You ain’t notice it’s all been downhill for you since
Bein’ exposed for this fraud you is
She said to tell you that’s karmathat’s what you can call a bitch
Thinkin’ back to Summer Impact, you would be the nigga to front
But I’m con-few-sed
Didn’t you get what you want?
I mean…you was the main one sayin’ when I rhyme I need to hurry up and get to the punch
Which one is it, chump? ‘Cause now you wastin’ my time
Well, maybe a MAC to your head will cause medics (cosmetics) to help make up (makeup) your mind
See the difference in the way that we rhyme!?
I don’t just “Bang! Bang!” fake make-up wit’ lines
My punchlines is real rap
I make metaphors outta real facts
I cover all my ground
But wit’ yew? All I found…
…is you talk wild loud…’bout how your gun gon’ pow-pow
All your opponents all got pounds
But in the end, them niggas all got pounds
“Yo, what’s gon’ happen when Roc pick that lead up!?”
Nigga, he gon’ jot down
Your straps only seen in your raps
Matter fact, that make you the nigga wit’ the drawn-out rounds
This kid is wired
Roc, you done put enough bullet holes on loose-leaf to fill a binder
I gotta peel (pill), but I’m next-level ill
For real, my pen a ceiling (penicillin) higher
Wait a minute, I don’t know what’s worse…
The fact that a nigga wit’ just they bare hands could take your chain…
Or the fact that a nigga wit’ just they bare hands could break your chain…
How I could just walk in the middle of the mall and make your chain?
And then you come back to URL wit’ a faker chain!
Wait a minute, you paid to get somethin’ back that’s fugazi!?
You crazy
Wait, it shoulda been surgery, new body, somethin’ from a waist snatch
You couldn’t be a bigger ass payin’ for somethin’ fake back!
I don’t fuck wit’ battle rappers ’cause y’all think small and I hate that
Arguin’ ’bout a million views – I’m tryna get paid that
My pockets Puffy, right!
But wit’ you, it’s, “How did he (Diddy) take that?”
You ain’t even got a car, Roc! Say that ain’t facts!
No, ya don’t
You done sold ya soul to so-and-so
Sold your soul to this platform, now you stuck, can’t go unless you goin’ broke
Hope ya know you’re hoin’, ho!
Reason my dough load the boat?
‘Cause I down the streams, sellin’ out row, row, and row
That’s currency (current, sea) overflow
Roc, on the low…low…low, low-low-low?
I will put all this shit in motion, ho
But if you think you the wave? Sure (Shore), whatever floats your boat
Look, you can win Twitter polls and votes
But the way I get paid for this shit?
(*to Smack*) Tell ’em niggas: I’m the only GOAT
That’s all a fact
You out here sack chasin’, can’t get a quarter back (quarterback)
Talkin’ ’bout “URL made me”
How? I’m makin’ more than Smack!
Nigga, I got paid for three battles
You ain’t heard one round yet
I’m gettin’ paid to rehearse now: that’s what you’d call a sound check!
Do ya hear me now!?
I get a bag, you get a purse…bitch
Big difference in that – very
Your shit be on the arm, my shit I gotta carry!
G’head wit’ all that “Roc-a-Fella”
Roc a fairy!
You play the bitch role!
This comparin’ Tyler Perry to watchin’ Belly!
You done tricked us into thinkin’ you a live (alive) nigga like Makaveli!
The pole don’t horseplay
Enough to go ’round, the more the merry
Pause…niggas stripped you wit’ no pistol?
I’m disgusted wit’ you
Niggas just booked you and left…
The most notorious vampire in the world, you go ruin his rep’
Sad day when Dracula gets somethin’ took off his neck!
Then five of y’all go beat on a female
Talkin’ ’bout, “Well, she was the woman who lined him!”
Yeah, but what about the man who robbed him?
That man ain’t hidin’
He all on the ‘Gram wit’ your shit in his hand, postin’ addresses on where you can find him
He posted your ID, wit’ the same address you share wit’ your mama
And that ain’t nowhere near the problem
Roc, here’s the problem
Nigga, you a bitch
You gon’ forever be a bitch!
And you ain’t never gon’ forget!
This the Statue of Liberty, Roc: forever gon’ be lit!
Fuck them candy bars, nigga! I ain’t never gon’ be tricked
Give a fuck if it’s Halloween
A clown never gon’ be It!
And just off the sheer fact…he said in his face-offhe wouldn’t react to nothin’ I said…
See his face when I talk about that tranny shit…and see if he ain’t fuckin’ with Fred

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

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