Cassidy vs. Hitman Holla [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Hitman Holla]
In the industry, I don’t give a fuck what you did
This is my house, take off your shoes when you walk in my crib
Niggas talk crazy to Hitman and I’m emotional?
Well fuck it, I’m the one to blame then
So earlier I was like, “Where Cass’ at?”
CoVID-19, I was tryin’ to check his temp’ before he came in
Niggas called my phone like, “Holla. They sayin’ Cassidy let Calicoe hear his rounds for you.”
I’m like, “So? Like that’s gon’ save him.”
Well at the face off I was gonna him hear rounds from a Calico
{gun cocks}
I was returnin’ the favor
Why we even comparin’ namе to name?
I been surpassed his and then somе
Who y’all prefer?
The nigga that’s gonna sell a fight?
Or the nigga that’s gonna end the fight when he get in one?
Ya house? Got foreclosed
Your cars? Got repo’d
Those are facts so I don’t wanna hear all this big money shit like, you be hustlin’
Matter of fact, you say one thing I don’t like tonight…
I’ma be petty and buy your publishin’
Aye look at him
I own my publishin’
Then why you gettin’ all worked up?
I mean, if you broke and you own your publishin’
Well thanks for confirming your catalog ain’t really worth much
This shit is so depressing
Your son gotta wake up on Christmas to no presents
Arsonal had the nerve to pocket check you
For fuckin’ what?
There hasn’t been a dollar in those jeans since ’07
Dude really a bum
Nigga is you silly or dumb?
You went from beggin’ bitches to “come to my hotel”
….to livin’ in one
Man I ain’t never backed down from shit, I got heart you know
The .40? Not an opening act when it start to show
High speed chase I’m on him, I do my cardio
Shoot him while the whip’s still spinnin’ it’s Super Mario
Fuck it I’ma remix it
I ain’t never backed down from shit, I got heart you know
The .40? Not an opening act when it start to show
The .40? Not an opening act when it start to show
High speed chase I’m on him, I do my-
High-high speed chase, I’m on him, I do my cardio
Shoot him while the whip’s still spinnin’ it’s-
Shoot, shoot, shoot while the whip’s still spinnin’ it’s Super Mario
The shit you say in your raps gets you booed every battle
How dare y’all compare to mine
But don’t Barry remind us of Sanders?
Cause his whole career he been known for havin’ terrible lines
In every category I’m better, I do it more Cass’
And my delivery probably sicker than DoorDash
You really think you fuckin’ with Hitman? You sure Cass’?
Diz’, Goodz, Ars’, me, how the fuck you gonna weather the storm?
I’m just judging off your last four Cass’ (forecast)
I seen that movie
Wasn’t you a part of that Next Day Air cast?
Coincidence, cause my homies will shoot ya hype man and next they air Cass’
My passion grows
Sorry I gotta crash your goals
You a movie star?
Well when they see the way I cook him tonight, it’ll be the last time they ever give Cass’ a role (casserole)
You better watch what you say in your raps, no what I mean Cass’?
Cause you can catch a bullet behind those lines, like a screen pass
The straps hang off of the arm like it’s a lean bag
And I can box, this right hand’ll lean Cass’
I take him back to the early 2000’s when I- put him to sleep…now dream Cass’ (DreamCast)
I’m a crocodile
They say I’m the best as soon as I jot it down
What sense do this make? How you braggin’ on the shit that you had…to a nigga that got it now
You outta bounds, livin’ off ya man name, like you popped a Ruger
Knowin’ damn well you Ben Simmons Philadelphia Cass’, you was (not the shooter)
Aye y’all know when a dog get neutered another word for that is “castrate”
How ironic, cause Philly, for the right price I’ll get rid of this nut, if the cash straight
Pause
Wait
Didn’t you get caught fuckin’ wit’ trannies? We don’t even know if Cass’ straight
What? I’m losin’ you?
Oh I forgot he delusional, that’s a Cass’ trait
I ain’t wit’ the internet beef, don’t want police knowin’
I’m a wolf, ain’t worry about where the sheep goin’
All I know is war, I don’t stop, I keep goin’
Our shooters past at his funeral
(Man, what he do?)
Shit
I just made a vow to kill every nigga that stand by him or speak for him
Can you stop actin’ like you doin’ me a favor?
Do I seem rattled?
This idiot don’t even know he tell his friend it’s his dream battle
To me, battle rap is street shit [?] and you not make it up out one
So whether I’m standin’ in front of the body or on top of the body, it’s the same outcome
I get physical where I’m from, you too little and frail
I’m Steph Curry, not cause I 30 all y’all favorite rappers
But mostly because my little brother a shooter as well
And our pop shot nice, he remind us of Del
Pump to your mouth
You asthmatic?
It don’t matter cause either way I’ma see you in Hell (inhale)
Battle rap? Boy you wouldn’t win a debate
The type of legacy I got you don’t get by mistake
Man don’t let them amp you up and get you hit in ya face
Second half y’all owe me won’t fit in the safe
Talkin’ money to me is legit a mistake
My next crib I debate, “Should it be in the states?”
Man if Cass’ get me mad, get on the weights
Before the next question asked is, “Do you think he awake?”
It’s gon’ be a body tonight, somebody better call the authorities
First round down, you better pray to God I ain’t got two more of these

[Round 1: Cassidy]
I said…
Fuck who you brung witchu
I could fit 100 shells in one pistol
You should run, and whoever run witchu should run witchu
You rap about guns all the time in ya bars
I get time behind bars cause that what a gun get chu
Bitch you, ran and grabbed a bag like you had a gun witchu
But you ain’t clap a shot when them Cali niggas snatched ya watch
I bare (beer) cans but they not Coronas
I’m talkin’ ’bout the gats I got
I stay strapped and my ratchet pop
And before they tried to stop Corona
I was wearin’ masks givin’ niggas six feet when they casket drop
I said bitch, you could get robbed for the cash you got
But I tell my squad, “Don’t cry over spilled milk, just grab a mop.”
And the safe where I stash the gwap is running outta (outer) space like an astronaut
Stay in ya lane for gats I cock get pulled like a traffic stop
Bitch you’d rather shoot it out or rather box
If there’s a confrontation get hit with a combination like a Master Lock
I told this nigga, I said…Hitman…Hitman…Hitman
Let a man with hits Holla at you
You can start first and then finish last
Reed had it in the car but you had it in ya bag?
You must’ve gave your imaginary friend a bag
Cause when you had to run to go get it it could’ve ended bad
You’ve been a fag, been a bitch, a scary guy
You not top tier cause you left outta there and cried
Look at you emotional
You know you not prepared to die so shut up
I don’t need ya two cents (sense) I need ya ears and eyes
You was tryin’ to make it outta there alive
Textin’ John John like, “You still pullin up?” You was fuckin’ terrified
You said you known for punchin’ on niggas, I was like, “Where was I?”
And he was like, “Oh Piru you can Google me.”
Y’all ain’t hear this guy?
It’s clear that I be gettin’ under ya skin like a bitch but you pussy like what’s in-between a pair of thighs
A left out you stayed there inside cause you scared to ride
To get shit clarified let’s play Swear To God
Pussy
Swear To God you really had a gat stashed in that black bag
And you was gon’ let your gat blast then go to war wit’ Cass’
Pussy
Swear To God you wasn’t mad scared
You pussy get a pap smear
If you really brought a gat there should’ve wore the bag
Pussy
Swear To God before you had your first SMACK event
You ain’t run into me by accident before my crash
Pussy
Swear To God you ain’t see me at a concert backstage and ask can you have my autograph
Swear to God nigga! Swear to God!
I’m sure his ass won’t make a confession
But they can tell by your facial expression it’s not a lie
You can’t ignore the past
Before your ass got SMACK involved you was playin’ basketball
On the ground ballin’ so I signed your Spalding
I ain’t have time for talkin’
And going to the league is tough
So after I signed your basketball I said, “Keep it up!”
But instead of lacin’ sneakers up, I was keepin’ them heaters tucked
My team only came to a game to shoot the bleachers up
You tryin’ to keep it secret but
I made you wanna battle rap
And go from bouncin’ balls to countin’ bars tryin’ to battle cats
I had to trap
I carried rock everywhere I travelled at
I been a shooter
To be technical I shoot back to back
But cats were smackin’ ya ass, you took it behind ya back like a Magic pass
In ya faggot bag, that’s a fact
And I know you fiendin’ to run back to Smack
Cause you a SMACK rapper, I smack rappers and have smack to trap
When you rap your rap
If I’m lookin’ in ya face it’s cause I’m fuckin’ lookin’ for a place to clap the ratchet at
Coaches had ya back
You could’ve been in the NBA
Instead of Beasley house with ya name on an NDA
Anyway, I was gettin’ paper back then
And thought this little Kevin Garnett face ass could make it happen
I’m reminiscing to listen to what I’m sayin’ y’all
I’m the reason he stopped playin’ ball and put his faith in rappin’
I’ll pop a slug you can’t stop the blood with no paper napkins
Bust the steel then your blood is spilled, shit mistakes could happen
Look at his face he cappin’
I ain’t stupid, wet up ya clothes with a big nose it ain’t mucus
This thot I got from St. Louis gave the whole crew head
I prolly fuck more bitches from St. Louis than you did!
I still remember when Bill Collector knot grew big
But fuck ya little brother bitch, if I get hitman I want you dead
Ya crew dead
If I go in my bag like you did
Blllllllat!
I’ll air this bitch out and that’s on my two kids
Truth is, this not gon’ go your way
Why would RBE put an artist like me against his protégé?
Shells blow, under the elbow how you hold the K
And if you tape the clips together
Once you flip ’em over you could reload the K
How many ballers went pro you play?
I’d rather play in the G league than that Wild ‘N Out role you play
But aye, aye, aye
Swear to God when I came on Wild ‘N Out you wasn’t playin’ me close like my hype man the whole time I was up there
When I performed at the end Hitman, you was dancin’, singin’ the words like a big fan
This shit ain’t even the fuck fair
Just hilarious and all them other chicks man was on my dick man
When I performed hit after hit…man
It’s like this man wasn’t even the fuck there
And swear to God you don’t get $1,000 an episode
So it would take you like ten seasons to make what I got to come the fuck here
I stepped it up so when I walk up…stares (stairs)
Before they debated if I’m the greatest but now that shit is the fuck clear
Bitch, if it’s up then it’s stuck there
You hear me clown? You try to stare me down, you can meet the man upstairs
It’s like you might know how to fight but who the fuck cares?
Get cut here and get a bald head, y’all seen too much here (hair)
My bro been locked up for years and don’t expect parole
But told me to bar you to death so God bless ya soul
Bars!

[Round 2: Hitman Holla]
I can’t believe he got the nerve to bring up the face off
You was talkin’ all that just to show that you hard
But didn’t I tell this nigga, “come outside”?
But I forgot he was in protective custody, should’ve known he wasn’t gonna go to the yard
Man don’t let them niggas fool you Cass’
I am hip hop, you talkin’ Wild ‘N Out, man battlin’ got me this spot
Big Glocks, make me mad, I let a clip drop
Big Gerald show me the ropes, think I’ma slip? Not (slipknot)
I’m big time, I’m on somebody beach in flip flops
Your bitch the type I choke and tell her, “don’t let a drip drop”
I’m this hot, God tier level, I jump six slots
I’ll punch you in ya shit
This league? Gon’ need six mops
I catch mine and trap it for real, I don’t diss ops
Bitch, what I got in store ain’t at a gift shop
Y’all love to critique my raps, “I don’t be sayin’ much”
Critique my contract instead, I bet they payin’ much
Quit sayin’ such, “Hitman Holla”, Mr. Man, what?
You and Jaq can split this profit, don’t get ya mans cut
Don’t worry ’bout who I cooked in the past, it’s your time to die
And stop comparin’ me to the pens in battle rap cause all them niggas got a 9 to 5
I get even where I’m from
So Barry better stay with the odds
Headshot
Boy I’ll let a bow down in his temple
Cass’ you better pray to ya God

{Crowd starts booing}

Man, all that tough talk little nigga, don’t make another sound
Twitter fingers
A keyboard the only time you ever touched the pound
The internet thug, he’s the type to act hard, what a fuckin’ clown
Sneak dissin’
Man don’t you know takin’ that sub way (subway) ain’t gon’ do nothin’ but lead you underground?
It’s like [?] way, hold that BAOW
I just came to put something down
That’s crazy

{crowd starts booing again}

I really came from nothin’ my nigga I’m supposed to brag
You was on the block in the 90’s, okay Ostertag
Chill ‘fore they carry you out, that’s a grocery bag

{jeering from the crowd}

I really came from nothin’ my nigga I’m supposed to brag
You was on the block in the 90’s, okay Ostertag
Chill ‘fore they carry you out, that’s a grocery bag
Don’t make me put this arm up nigga, I give a toast to Cass’
Top battle rappers today? Man you close to last
No drive behind that wheel, you was supposed to crash

{more booing from the crowd along with some cheering}

I really came from nothin’ my nigga I’m supposed to brag
You was on the block in the 90’s, okay Ostertag
Chill ‘fore they carry you out, that’s a grocery bag
Don’t make me put this arm up nigga, I give a toast to Cass’
Top battle rappers today? Man you close to last
No drive behind that wheel, you was supposed to crash
They, “booed the hottest shit in the world” you wrote the trash
Blade give you a permanent smile but it make the Joker mad
Do it look like I’m fuckin’ laughin’?
I ain’t wit’ the funny business
A.R.P., why you send this nigga on this dummy mission?
All the fans be like, “Hitman, get back in ya bag.”
I can’t y’all…too much money in it
Chill, why you throwin’ me shade? That’s palm trees
Just tighten up, before I pull from the waist, that’s draw strings
I’m a hustler, I got it out the mud like Swamp Thing
I made somethin’ outta nothin’ like my offspring
What you 5’5″, 105 pounds?
Man if y’all don’t throw me the ball for this Shaq Attack
Uppercut, hook, uppercut, I bet he flip like an acrobat
I’ll leave bullets, stuck in ya head, keep that in mind…I’m get back to that
The gun connect called and said, “Holla, I’m about to feed the block. Whatchu want?”
I told him, “Poles. I need that Eagle off top.”
Cass’, where the fuck you been? I’ma star these days
Busy schedule I had to smuggle you in
I can’t rap? Then why none of ’em win
I created the style in battle rap that you strugglin’ in
You on coke and you broke, I’m doin’ him bad
Man you a hoe and the jokes you do it for laughs
Your boy caught a murder for you and you couldn’t shoot him no cash?
Man, I should stand on Cass’ with the AR, I’ma do it for Ab!
Ball game nigga

[Round 2: Cassidy]
Off rap, I was ballin’, while you was still tryin’ to make the startin’ five
I did shit with Fab’, ‘Kiss, Nas, Game and Wayne before the Carter 5
This all a façade
All ya bars falsified
But when you bought them fake teeth you should’ve got a smaller size
He started smilin’ cause we all realize he’s sweet
But I don’t think those fake teeth can rot
You ever read The Little Red Riding Hood?
Well peep the plot
A real Blood wear a little red ridin’ in the hood
But you look like the Big Bad Wolf, what big teeth you got

{Crowd starts booing}

Wait, I told this nigga, wait, “Go donate one of ya fake teeth to DNA.”
Cause if I burn ya body up, man they can’t use ya fake teeth for DNA
Aye, shut ya mouth up nigga, them damn teeth so big I still see ’em when ya mouth shut nigga
A headshot’ll lift ya scalp up nigga
If you a Hitman go Holla at whoever fucked ya mouth up nigga
I’m prepared for the trouble
I ain’t scared of a tussle
I could leave here with some of your veneers in my knuckles
You should’ve came here in ya duffle
The contract say, “no contact” but who cares? I’ll snuff you
Fuck you
Fuck ya damn mother, ya dad, ya brother
Ya cousins, ya aunt, ya uncles and grandmothers
I’ll let the ‘Gram watch me top ya grandpop
Then fuck ya baby mom on the ‘Gram while the fans watch
C’mon Hitman stop, you just a battle rapper, face it
I got plaques on my wall, you got battle rappers faces
Wait, so that mean, you and your bae pop while you starin’ at Tay Roc?
And all you see is Clips face while you gettin’ ya dick ate?
Pause
That shit weird, it don’t sound natural
How you get top with a bunch of battle rappers lookin’ down at you?
What type of gay shit is that?
In the crib that you livin’ at, you only got men on ya wall, where are all the women at?
I been could scrap, and you a decent height
But if my fists fly, then they all gon’ connect like the cheapest flight
You foolin’ the people, you don’t live an illegal life
A Ice Man, a Al Capone, a Bugsy Siegal life
They was real hitmen, famous for takin’ people life
You shoot basketballs, battle rap and go on casting calls
Ya ass a fraud
Name somebody you shoot
If you a Hitman, Holla how many bodies you got
Pussy, do you got a body or not?
Obviously not
Yo I need to know what type of hitman is this, cause this man a bitch
But this some shit you can’t forget
You gettin’ robbed outside that burger spot when you stopped in Watts Las Angeles
And nigga don’t lie cause they told me you got robbed in ya ride while you was waitin’ outside for ya sandwiches
Aye, this some shit you can’t admit but Hitman you lame
They told me, they took your fake Rollie and Nick Cannon chain
And you ain’t go and grab ya Nick bag and let no cannon bang
The man who got ya shit never got hit but “Hitman” ya name?
I can’t explain how I know, but I know what’s up
I’m so dope sometimes I slow it up so y’all can sober up
You tryin’ to soldier up ya little brother protecting you
When he was playin’ catch witchu, I was in the correctional
Hitman, I been knew you were soft but I lost all respect for you
When Verb told ya pop how to talk when he addressin’ you
“Yo Big Gerald”
“Yes sir!”
“That’s how you talk to ya son”
That was unacceptable
It looked bad for you and ya dad when Verb lectured you
When Arsonal grabbed me, I tried to keep it professional
I wish a motherfucker would
And I heard The Brotherhood a bunch of brothers from the hood havin’ sex witchu
Is you a homosexual or not?
I guess it’ true
Is y’all lovers or nah? That’s what I heard
And that’s word to my mother in law
I be pushin’ that fuckin’ raw like no rubbers at all
Y’all might think that’s kinda dumb (condom) but my sons never suffered at all

{crowd starts booing}

Well tonight I’m gettin’ paid more, so whatchu standin’ on this stage for (four), you need to give your mother a call
But don’t get ya fuckin’ brother involved
Cause if I break his fuckin’ jaw you ain’t got no other brothers to call
He prolly give the undercovers a call
Begin to snitch then will switch from ya brother to ya brother in law
You and ya brother are fraud, don’t get gassed brother
This stick will rip your brother in half then he’ll be your half brother

{crowd starts booing}

Listen, you made the worst decision in ya life, this shit is light
You gettin’ 30’d like prescriptions niggas write
My diamonds dance different in the light
I like my links like my drinks, on the rocks, it’s different wit’ the ice
My car be cuttin’ when I be sittin’ at the light
So I’m tired about all the bars about my car collision niggas write
My dickhead might have a head on collision wit’ ya wife
I might tap from the back like a submission in a fight
I punch with precision make smart decisions when I fight
But shoot wit’ precision I could hit a pigeon that’s in flight
Right, you ever beat a nigga half to death
Stop to watch the nigga gasp for breath
Then start to beat the other half that’s left?
Yo Cass’ the best, my shit extra cold
But you were never Blood it’s not (snot) happenin’, even if you had a messy nose
Watch who you wildin’ out with bitch, respect is owed
Plus I fucked a Wild ‘N Out chick the first episode
So I ain’t gotta play no extra role
Cause I done won over a 1,000 battles with over 1,000,000 records sold
Platinum
But see the necklace on my neck is gold
VVS is froze, a bitch’ll hug me and catch a cold
Damn, yo my bro locked in the pen and don’t expect parole
But told me to bar you to death so God bless ya soul
Bars

[Round 3: Hitman Holla]
God is my witness, this is the first time I ever told this story
But this match been in the making, even way before us
When I was 16 I won a battle rap tournament in St. Louis
The winner got to chop it up with Cassidy on the tour bus
I know you lookin’ like, “16? I been grindin’ for-“

{Battle gets stopped because of a heckler in the crowd}

The winner got to chop it up with Cassidy on the tour bus
I know you lookin’ like, “16? I been grindin’ for a long time.”
That’s why I was destined for me to win
I won an autographed hoodie, CD, free studio time
A whole bunch of other shit I was far from being interested in
But to make a long story short, I spit a verse for Cass’
I remember them days
You said some shit like, “Damn, how old is he?”
And you was makin’ that, He Killin’ ‘Em Face
He said, “Damn, he that young and that heavy? Wow
When young boy get older I might have to smoke him.”
I said, “All that shit sound good, but I’m ready now.”
All the adults laugh like I was jokin’, they escorted me out
I shook hands wit’ him and that was the first day I ever met Cass’
So it took 16 years, two rounds later, for you to realize what I told you when I was 16? I was dead ass
Yo, what Vegas got me favored to win by?
It don’t matter, I’m gonna cover the spread fast
You had a 16 year head start and I Hawk’d you down?
Boy I’m feeling like D.K. Metcalf
Y’all told me I couldn’t talk that name on name shit to Cass’
Man y’all stay trippin’
Cause if we being honest I’m in a different class on a scale of things, we way (weigh) different
Yeah he had some early 2000’s mainstream success but that don’t mean shit to me
I’ve been on TV every single day for damn near a decade
You see how I channel a different kind of energy
I get big boy checks now, so money? You really want to discuss this? Please
We the Avengers?
Well my green on Hawk’s status
NewsFlash, I made a $150,000 in just this league (Justice League)
You know why? Cause I’m what’s in now
I’m the guy in demand
I don’t even need a pistol for Cassidy, I swear to God I wouldn’t lie to my fans
Cause trust me the Hustla an easy problem and I can always count on my hands
If I was you, I’d tell him to quit, get to wavin’ a stick ’round like I’m tryin’ to cast a spell in this bitch
Man I can look you in ya eyes and tell him he bitch
Bullets go in and out so quick he couldn’t tell he was hit
Thought he was cool, tried to walk and then fell in this bitch
The doctor like, “1, 2, 3- oh my God there’s 30 shells in this-“
I got great aim, I always hit my target so you better duck and scram
Two Nina’s and to whoever think a .9 will miss (anonymous) don’t know who the fuck I am!
Boy you was talkin’ crazy at that face off
In the back of my mind I was like, “I hope he fight.”
I told that nigga, “Lower ya tone. Watch what you say or I’ma let it sing.”
I turned a face off into karaoke night
Now-a-days I can lay out cheddar
I love having the odds stacked against me cause the payout’s better
You got more street credibility than who?
Boy you was high, you had to be
Cause I watched Gillie walk in yo’ hood wit’ a camera
And every nigga standin’ outside gave him way more respect than they do for Cassidy
I just knew they was gonna press Gillie
Like, “Fuck outta here. You better run that.”
Man, they walked up, shook his hand, took his camera and told Cassidy’s bitch ass, “You bet’ not come back.”
I said, “Aw nah. Cass’ ain’t lettin’ that slide. He ’bout to ride.”
I was 15/16, you know, still idolizing
The next day he got on YouTube I said, “Awwww shit!
Any time now Cass’ should start…apologizing?”
These are facts
So when do you become this street legend?
You went to the smartest school in Philadelphia
Now I’m not down playin’ on him that his books straight
But AR-Ab put his freedom on the line for yo’ bitch ass and you couldn’t even make sure the nigga’s book straight
Yo I told y’all I wouldn’t bring in my brother

[Showout]
Well he lied then!

[Hitman]
They ain’t search me

[Showout]
Me either! I got this .9 in

[Hitman]
Cass’ really think that he ’bout it

[Showout]
Let’s go outside then

[Hitman]
I got the tre (tray), I’ll make him sit down

[Showout]
Fuck it let’s dine then!

{Scuffle breaks out. Battle gets delayed for just short of five minutes}

[Showout]
Well he lied then

[Hitman]
They ain’t search me

[Showout]
Me either! I got this .9 in

[Hitman]
Cass’ really think that he ’bout it

[Showout]
Let’s go outside then

[Hitman]
I got the tre (tray), I’ll make him sit down

[Showout]
Fuck it let’s dine then

[Hitman Holla]
See he laughed at me, but they ain’t understand that I passed them with stealth
They laughed at my passion and my emotion but all that shit equal wealth
You wanna know why Nick Cannon don’t come to my battles nigga?
Bitch nigga you can ask him yourself

{Nick Cannon comes out on stage}

Yo what’s big words to small change?
Two words as it is
(Ball game!)

[Round 3: Cassidy]
Listen, this nigga got Nick runnin’ out with the mask on and all that, I see you
But bitch, why you diss Eminem?
Yeah that nigga white, but that nigga nice
I thought your diss was gonna be incredible but that shit was light
Listen right, what I’ma cut you wit’ not a kitchen knife

{Cassidy gets heckled and stops rapping}

Listen right, I had cream way before Caffeine dropped the app
Cass’ seen the biggest check a rapper ever got from Smack
Fuck all the gossip rap
I’m cut from a different cloth even though the shit in my jeans, I get a lot of slack
Who else did they thing in the ring but got a plaque?
What battle rapper beat a homicide but not a rat?
For every Snapple bottle fact, it’s a lot of cap
Shots will clap then spin head around, you better watch ya back
What? Y’all forgot the fact that I made a lot of hits before
Classic shit wit’ Swizz before
I was the shit before Daylyt tried to shit the floor
Ya name Hitman but man you never wrote a hit before
Listen boy you never did shit but work for Nick before
It’s 54 cards in a deck, I guess I’m short a few
I bought a new Smith & out, the clip be stickin’ out like Florida do
I’m a Philly nigga but got hitters out in Georgia too
They’ll find out where you livin’ in Georgia and start extortin’ you
You said, “I get paid way more than you.”
But to the face off you wore some [?] and some Jump Man Jordan’s too
Bitch, ya outfit was more affordable
My shirt was worth like $600 but his was thrift storable
I’ve been this ill and I don’t need Benadryl it’s incurable
I did Wild ‘N Out in ’05 before they toured witchu
You never caught a body then somebody reported you
You got caught and had to bring some lawyers in the court witchu
When you was on the ball court lettin’ niggas score on you
I was caught up in the street, been in a war or two
And you don’t want your niggas mourning you at a memorial I’m warnin’ you
I’m the wrong dude to challenge
Why would a Hitman Holla? They move in silence
I’m used to violence
I got a gun big enough to shoot it and lose my balance
Jag a Blood, if he blast a slug you will lose a gallon
Blood’ll knock ya head off
Code word: Red Cross
Cause I heard you Blood too and when two red’s cross…it get bloody
So don’t cross that line that O-Red cross
Cause O-Red lost to my man clear
I do got stage performance
On stage I perform like every damn where
In jail, a month feel like a damn year
When you facin’ life or might get electrocuted in the chair
I bet you wish you had some damn hair
I air drums but beat you to death (deaf) like a man that can’t hear
You can’t stare in the eyes of a nigga realer than you
When you know that nigga will kill you and ain’t no killer in you
I’m into dealin’ drugs ain’t no drug dealer in you
I remember one time I seen this nigga Michael Jackson lean on ’em
Well you can’t come back to life like Thriller can you?
Cause you could clearly get shots like you got some tequila in you

{crowd starts booing}

I will offend you and hurt your feelings it’s mandatory
Since the cameras on me my shorty snuck in the hammers for me
I did Drink Champs wit’ Nore just to remind ya
On the mics (Mike) I black son (Blackson) and been gettin’ in drama
Shit lit’ my outfit is designer
If you rich chicks will let you hit but if you broke you won’t get the vagina
Cause they givin’ bols that bald head
Boy, if a bald head hit ya bald head that’s a triple entendre
Bald head, after bald head, after bald head when I’m grippin’ the Llama
For small bread I could get you bodied
It’s a million ways to die but I’ll get you hit wit’ a pistol probably
I got some issues probably
I squeeze you lose ya life, I move the white
And my bitch cook ki’s like [?] wife
You the type to get super hype to get some views and likes
You full of shit; clogged sewage pipe
I got you super tight
Like a thick chick in some spandex
When you was playin’ ball makin’ hand checks
I was gettin’ hand checks
You ’bout to get 30’d like a Xanax
Pussy you gettin’ beat and the people can see it like OnlyFan sex
Ya damn ex was in my DM like Dark Man X
Prayers go up to my nigga DMX
And then she text, “I left Hitman to let you hit, man”, so what’s the plan next?
You got some bands left?
Man, bet what’s in your pockets then
I’m stoppin’ in the club, ‘It’s Goin Down’, you’re on my jock (Joc) again
I’m on top again, this the real world, not pretend
I’m thorough, but’ll pistol whip you Gerald until the chopper bend
I’m not ya friend
And can you take a punch? Do you got a chin?
I got a pen and I can go off the top so I got the win
And I’m tryin’ to kill whoever feel they better
Hitman, the fans who feel you lost to Bill Collector like, “(K)not again.”

{Crowd starts booing again}

Yo, my bro locked in the pen and don’t expect parole
But told me to bar you to death so God bless ya soul
Bars

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