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Correct Rum Nitty Vs. Ave Lyrics
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Correct Rum Nitty Vs. Ave
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[Round 1: Ave] Nitty, tonight, I’d advise there be no horseplayin', bring your best This was a fresh move, for you still an L, ‘cause I ain’t Chess They say my style placed me top of the rookies Well, I feel like Trey in the crib ‘Cause punchin' with tiers finally got me this pussy Nitty, what’s goodie? Fuck that! You brought your block for support? ‘Cause I could tell these niggas not what you thought The first Quarter with the problem gettin' dropped But if the Glock the resort You’ll hear shots poppin' in Quads, think Pac in New York See, quarters is quads, the same place where niggas set it on Pac Nigga, you’re just a stepping stone to get me on top But apparently, bein' drugged is your plot, y’all think not He was fiendin' to be on Smack, now he beggin' for Roc But they sent me to put the chalk to him So if I am legend, then watch how I wash dog while I talk to him Just ‘cause the Poet mark you a genius That don’t mean you on point, son 'Cause you on Kevin Johnson in Phoenix! I get to sparkin' these ninas Well, you’ll be Denzel in He Got Game Go from the box to you talkin' with Jesus See, y’all the reason niggas thinkin' they tough ‘Cause reppin' that 4th Quarter only mean shit'll change for a buck Wait, hold up, see all this Crip shit you spit out your mouth Don’t mean nothin' when my niggas in route He’ll white flag once my clique at his house That’s where you see these niggas in living color ‘Cause after the first clip the bitches come out I mean, these 4th Quarter niggas ain’t hard, they’re scared for ya As soon as you fired on they off: go Craig on ya Or I’ll rob you ‘til your bread shorter Put that drum stick to your thigh You either come off the chicken or lose a leg, Quarter But you ain’t in the streets at all, you bum Your heart not strong enough to run that base: you John Q son You strapped up? Well, I’m armed too, chump, the war started Fuck your vest, let it scream on caps: I’m Troy Martin Pardon, no sparkin', gun butt with the mean grip The serial smack his face like he ridin' with Queenzflip ‘Cause we ain’t slip with straps, what’s cookin'? I’m on my Voletta Wallace I brought that big poppa back through Brooklyn So fuck Rum! Besides, I be drinkin' on that Henny It won’t mean shit to leave him stinkin' from the semi But they gassed him up thinkin' he gon’ hit me But he don’t want to be the one sent to face the right: that’s Lincoln on the penny And I still got the weapons to end it So you can go from the right to bare arms like the Second Amendment I extended the sweetest piece So if Beas' need this West Coast nigga dead by 30 I’ll make it easy, E He ain’t beatin' me, nor none of these fuckin' faggots If you got rage to come after Ave, just don’t be average See, you talkin' it like you straight killers Soon as he hook, put money on, they book, like it’s JPay, nigga I don’t care if you Crip bang, bitch One shot will finish this 4th Quarter in Phoenix I don’t bull in the game, 6 Y’all pump packs and shit…wait, backtrack 4th quarter, Phoenix – that Game 6 shot was Paxson, bitch! I stash that fifth, and beat the foul out ya Then point it at the back of your head: that’s Alfalfa It ain’t nothin' tough ‘bout ya, see, I stay fight ready And I off the nigga cap: that’s CakeLyfe Prezzy (Shout out to WeGoHard) How he gon’ check me? Y’all gassin' this nigga like he go so hard That’s with the scam in on a card, you’re like a ZoGuard But you ain’t gettin' real dough, nigga Nobody on foot ball between bars but a field goal kicker I fear no nigga, so let him be stupid to prove he truly swing Put a clear round in this pussy: my shooters NuvaRing Fuck who he bring, ‘cause if they cross them trenches He the first down, soon as he get the fourth and inches Wait, but you Writer’s Bloque, right? Well, where the fuck them clowns when you need them? Soon as J see the big cannon, the rounds gon’ delete him But Danny get the shotty right in his mouth, when I see him Think Yo Gotti, ‘cause soon as it goes down, end of DM And since Magic want to know who’s a new killer Yeah, I know the answer Ayy, I can reenact how you shoot and step over Lou niggas So fuck what this clown come spit ‘Cause when I’m smokin' the 4th Quarter That only mean he down 1-zip – time, man! [Round 1: Rum Nitty] We got Rum Nitty versus Ave Damn, Smack got me movin' backwards You don’t see that I’m the truth? It’s like I dropped a tier to give you this shot: I’m Nino on the roof Don’t leave out the venue, I see niggas squeezin' out the coupe My white boy from Queens said “Soon as you done: leave, he finna shoot.” They brought the best to him, and they bet Norbes and Myers put papers down for this shit: public restrooms I’ll fuck your bitch pussy with the 9 barrel, Nitty trippin' Make sure your girl’s tore with the mill', like Drizzy dissin' Then he gets it, if I forget the mittens I’ll slide through with two socks on the Tom: that’s Risky Business Or he’ll get the blade, stick it in your temple, twist it Pull it out, and run it back in your head like you’re reminiscin' The punch crazy But the set-up get caught later like Jimmy Henchman I’m dope, nigga I’ll OD in this bitch if I come out the coat with it Then mark you out before the chest shot: Pulp Fiction If I whip the piece, your family fucked Headshot your mom's sister They gon’ have to M-O-P your aunty up Handle what? Niggas dyin' You’ll see a flash from behind when the milli light him That was fire, comin' from the background like Gwitty hypin' Lift the iron, I’ll let a dummy go off the top, like 50 Tyson But they say you’re washin' me I say, “Cool, cut the check Then he’s who I’ma air out next," like a tracheotomy Don’t lie to me, ‘cause I’ll be at your crib knockin' With a big fifth, that bitch shining Catch what the nickel send through the door, nigga, here’s Johnny! Something fat and a little colt, it be a big body Catch the Tommy, boy, and rip your back like Chris Farley If I raise, shit sparkin' I let that bitch go “blaka,” nigga… like he Facebook stalkin' Or I’ll be at your door and all The whole house'll rest, ‘cause that shit you on ain’t cool You took it too far, now I’m goin' off I know he soft From the jump I get it in, so many men die when the coin toss Nah, I got a hundred in the drum to get busy with He try to run, guess whose back gettin' 50 sent in? I lock and load, ridin' out with the squad for sure I get it jumpin' for the Quarter off top, nigga, I’m the GOAT Fuckin' maricón! Two shots leave Roc laid on Ave, it look like cobblestone You copy, holmes? One from the can pop at him I let it fly, it will break up Ave like Hancock landin' What your hands like, family? You’ll get your chin broken Right left, left right, you’ll get clocked back and forth like hypnosis I’m a .40-sparker I’ll let it wet across your forehead like holy water He known for talkin' – me, I’ll lift it and squeeze He try to dip, then this shit erase your back Like when your earring’s missin' a piece Gun Line King, I used to let the can go daily Beam on it, I inf a mil and catch you with the semi lackin' That’s what the can for, baby We don’t keep it cool; real life shit, I keep a tool Pull and squeeze and shoot Let ten open up on his face like peek-a-boo He done joined the Cave So now he think he royal every time he come around, right? Well, I’ll give you kings ten, Ave, head shot, lift your crown heights I’ll run inside, lace the crib Shootin' over the table, shit, take his ribs Bet five racks I won’t miss this trash nigga, I’m Money Making Mitch Real shit, you can’t keep it real yourself Nigga, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… (Kill yourself!) [Round 2: Ave] Hottest in the city, they heard that I’m really poppin' I’m good on every block, I ain’t gotta be milly rockin' Ave nice, and the last dude that doubt that, nigga Died fuckin' with the boss: he went out like Blizzard You’ll get the picture, I was plannin' to kill you in the future They wanted to see the king this March: I’m Martin Luther You’re just hyped-up when you matter But now that I get at him Even they see you bodied, bitch, that ain’t bitin' in the Apple I’ma snap him, take it past rap, I bet I’ll leave him there Soon as I eyeball a Quarter like I don’t need a scale Tell your people bail, ‘cause I won’t even speak Just “shh,” aim on a nigga, then I OD B He ain’t gotta get the Glock, goddamn it Nigga, he’ll be socked up, like when you give a back shot standin' I could handle him with a mean right; but on the other hand A pump can light up the face like Halloween night ‘Cause they just seem hype You know, clown face, sound brave Throw their fours up like they’re wild, that’s what wild rage That shit for the crowd, ace, bet if we scrap Y’all gon’ see his troops jet in the back: that’s Colonel Guile stage That’s child play, the Internet diggin' this fuckin' clown You think you Pac? Well, try to be digital underground ‘Cause can’t no dummy play me My lil dog be goin' bananas, kickin' cans Even my puppy monkey, baby But I ain’t get patted down, I’m concealin' the Smith 'N' So watch your lips whenever a real nigga spittin' I go to kickin' my rounds and hear these clowns And get the feeling they trippin' I dump the .40 while I’m cookin': that’s Steel in the kitchen You see the difference? With punches I’m an animal, duke Even handle you with the hands? ‘Cause these zoo landers too See, I can beat this geek up, or with this stick Cap around on the eye, then shell his body like he Mr. Peanut Y’all got me fucked up What, y’all don’t think that we hold lead? I kick up in his spot, that Glock to his forehead He don’t open up that box for the bread Then what he face even uglier if locks get cut: that’s O-Red Then I’m Swayze when that shotty through spittin' ‘Cause as soon as you see this bitch run up on me Watch the body get lifted – who wanna dirty dance? 30 in the can sparkin' 25 in the 4th Quarter, like Reggie in the Garden But you don’t wanna lose your life right here You’ll end up with a light pop at head: now that’s a bright idea My nigga Law told me, "Punch out silly, Rum on a roll!" Well, I’m in it, Ty, I doubt it if this bird out-spit me See, he ain’t even peep that word out, did he? I said "In it, Ty," put that together, I ain’t worried 'bout Nitty ‘Cause Cornell’s not a shotter I flesh Corn, and your shit, you’ll pass but you won’t die just proper I’ll get him popped up, matter of fact, nah, I’ll kill his ass Dome shot, head hit his shoulder, look like the Thriller dance See, I can give him jabs, ‘cause the left done left a lot shook Or a hole around in the neck, look what the shot put That Glock cook, but the rifle round is madness I’ll touch through the lens: that’s Calvin glasses Or I’ll catch him with his folks hangin', close-rangin', low-aimin' Both bangers ringin' together, look like I’m rope swingin' Bro thinks I’m jokin', but I’ll smoke him on the scene Two grips rippin' his shirt: he Hogan in the ring Fuck you mean? You know we talk that slick talk, that stick talk Bullet in his shoe if he move, now tell this Crip walk [Round 2: Rum Nitty] So you’re in Roc family, right? Well, that shit fake I’ll whip a big blade, it’s about one foot, it’s for your kin, Tay Get slayed, stand over the body with the stick waived You’re number 2 in the city, you’re used to bein' under a big K I’m straight to it, I’ll be goin' for blood from the jump Radio Raheem rings: I don’t show a hater love when I punch Get your mug pushed in, jump and let a slug cook him Ironic how I’m gonna destroy Ave but I love Brooklyn Way different, just expect I’ma shoot you You press my buttons, soon as I see money I’ma pull out Does this register to you? You thinkin' I’ma get killed, that’s grimy ‘Cause what I kick give you three clear rounds to the side Like an Air Max 90 I’m finna have a blueprint to kill this geek if this works out Oh, y’all ain’t peep Verb versus SB? I started off with the remedy in the first round I let it ring, if he survive your man in surgery next He come back and get the second ring Or visit your city with the matics poppin', and I’m robbin' Tryin' to get rid of your house in Virginia like Magic Johnson I’ll clap an artist, good shot, that’s a marksman Pull a bow and put an arrow in his face: Ave a target I send my young niggas dumpin' out the steel They get one off – BAH! The first pop warn a nigga how the youngins in the field I got a clip full of hollows for whoever talk I’ll leave four of these bitches smokin' on your roof like Set It Off No matter a vet or a rookie ‘Cause I’ve been lettin' loose ever since I came out, baby But the key goes to flex on a pussy Get pistol whipped with the MAC: I’ll Big Pun a bitch So if this guy goes upside your head, it’s capital punishment Suck a dick! I’m known to smoke bitches I’ll make a nice nigga hang it up, literally You missed the punch, that means I’ll rope a dope nigga Got an aim slanted when I hold the four spittin' Sideways, I’ll peel out a round on Ave, like I’m Tokyo driftin' Behind these bars, he’s goin' through some shit: Shawshank escape I get it poppin', pet adoption: I’ll put dog in his place I give a fuck if a nigga big, I’ll be all in his space You can be Tyson cut, don’t mean you want parts in the fade But y’all call it shakin', right? Cool, I got you a little later The nina kill him, two of these'll peel him I’ll black and let it fly in his face like FEMA children You type done, you’ll lose all train of thought when the 9 dump A head shot will make him blank it out like Mike's son I’ll light one, you make a move, you’ll get done dirty The DE take off sides if you jump early But niggas stay talkin', remain calm or the blade on him Then I run it across Ave like I’m jaywalkin' Tez on Twitter actin' like he wanna smoke – okay, partner If the fifth in the shorts Then I’m whippin' it on Cort' like James Harden I’ll straight box him, he say somethin' crazy I’ma swing 2K free throw, soon as he get to the line We get it shakin' on the screen Don’t try to scam me, I got nice hands and somethin' nice handy And I’ll pop a round in your life like a white family KG gave me the extra magazine Like, “You might wanna beware, not scared.” He’ll get a head shot The clip I got from Kevin bakin', I’ll let it air up there And your squad can’t jump in, this is yo' bag Joey Jihad shit: you better take these punches on your own, Ave! I don’t like you bitches So watch the boy from the Quarter black and enlighten niggas Large slug, I’ll ice you with it, nothin' small’s in the clip A little nigga spit big 16’s like "Sky’s The Limit" Real shit, you can’t keep it real yourself Nigga, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… (Kill yourself!) [Round 3: Ave] To all you little niggas sendin' shots at the game, scram Switch up your game plan, ‘cause shit changed Don’t send a shot that’s way out your range, damn Like, get this in your brains, fam Before you make a Roc round You got to see Ave first, that’s on the Cave, man Don’t even play if y’all ain’t killers ‘Cause you gon’ have to be more than sharp for Tay You know rock breaks scissors But now that I’m up in the picture Nigga, step to me, go ahead and sleep But as soon as I catch you restin', peace See, I’m that nigga in the East, nigga, they was checkin' for me Basically, you get to eat off my flow: I’m Victor Sweet See, that’s why we’re different, geek ‘Cause see I’ve been about the action 30 under the 40: that’s an improper fraction I clap whatever pop in his mind So you’ll be dead before Smack transform him The first opp to miss prime ‘Cause never mind, ‘cause they don’t need him Maybe I can leave him undercover next to God: I’ll J. Reid him Who can’t see him? My flow skill only prove that he roadkill I’ll beat him at his style with a touch, give it that road feel And yo, fuck that punchline belt that they say you hold, queer ‘Cause I’ll put a tip to that title like it’s a Hov deal I’m so ill, my flow hell, bro Shit, I done took plain bars and washed bodies, like hotel soap I’ll let a shell go, but he ain’t got the heart to be strapped Don’t no niggas in Phoenix ring, blame Barkley for that But I got smokers that clap, nigga, they stay with it Soon as you see us whip, let that HK hit it But I don’t need cash to pay they ticket Shit, I can slide a cookie on the card, just like Day-Day did it You want to take a thug’s gamble? Well, understand, I’m strapped and fat On both sides, nigga, I love handles So fuck beef, ‘cause we run to it, sign on a pair of pennies Watch the tongue before you see one through it But you ain’t stupid, and you know that if we rumble, you out So why speak what you don’t wanna be 'bout? Like, be humble, don’t go runnin' your mouth Or you can get a buck 50 upfront I’ll start his own GoFundMe account See, they doubt us, ‘cause we some south hitters Well, I’m in your cotton-picking yard, holdin' my uncle Tom Come out the house, nigga! Big mouth, get a fuckin' bum murked up ‘Cause I doubt if he can hold steel, like your son first cut It’s all a bluff, y’all buyin' all this reckless shit he talk? I mean he ain’t really shootin': he Tom Sheppard in the park So put your state on the map and just chill Keep it rap ‘fore that AR is on a nigga back for real You see the skill, they kill for the type of shit Ave write I’m John Stockton with a dish to Malone, I’m past nice Make your riders pay bucks up front, like a cab price So when your team cap right on the head, it’s draft night ‘Cause you bad, right? Cool, well, the shots will get fatal Let him run, shit, we ain’t done; spin the block like a dreidel ‘Cause we ain’t worried about the jakes, dog, we play raw I don’t feel it’s a big risk, fuck it: that’s Ray Charles But see, y’all support these bluffs Meanwhile, I got a nigga tryin' to fight justice Like Chicago with the brush So before you start actin' all hyped from your yes men Just know, life ain’t make you six feet, but death can So you sayin' shit to fit for the footage ‘Cause where I’m from, we’re gon’ pull it Long as it got a fire pin to the bullets A high point 40 saved my life, I fell in love with that That plastic was poppin' them rounds, and it wasn’t bubblewrap But KG claim the West on your back? Well When you’re shot and end up in a heavy bag, thank Kevin for that So I hope he brung his chopper ‘Cause soon as he done, partner, niggas get lumped proper We still owe them one for Hoffa Now, I ain’t makin' this no Westside hate Well, if it’s poppin' shit, then part two, they told me "Next fry Day!" ‘Cause I don’t play, that tough shit that he sayin', made up Straight fable, you sex on cable: fake fuck ‘Cause you talkin' like you bangin' that steel But see I really doubt that B be gunnin' unless you thinkin' like Bill See, I can punch him to death Not just with bars though, my hands is a problem I’ll leave him lumped up, bad as Apollo See, I ain’t only got to blast it with hollows I mean, the Bible said “Thou shall not steal” That’s the only Commandment I follow I know I’m sinnin', Lord No, BLAOW! – look who I’m sendin', Lord You’ll see a Quarter flip in the battle, like the beginning, or Squeeze this round, well, I can leave the semi now ‘Cause they ain’t gettin' the prints like Patrice McDowell I got now, I told you fix my plate, right, Smack? ‘Cause they be sleepin', it’s time I bring my state right back I don’t give a fuck about these sucker niggas, they type wack ‘Cause I’m a nigga out of Norfolk, straight like that [Round 3: Rum Nitty] Shit can get real Mz. Gracie, my nigga I know what y’all thinkin', wait, y’all thinkin' weight Nah, overkill, two hands over the mill That’s what I was sayin': grace A headshot in front of a crowd, he’ll go a crazy way But givin' him the steel in the chest really takes the cake For the record, I’ll deal with you, like labelmates I’m nice, even if I fuck up it’s a dope error, like ‘88 He be talkin' like his gun dump But won’t say it to the kid, I’ll lift a 9 in his face like I’m Nunn Nunn You ain’t use your head, think Better go watch my last shit again That’ll make a young nigga fear the pen He’ll be scared straight, I don’t lead waste I’m only aimin' to stretch him If I miss you, baby, it’s gon’ be okay, I got faith I’ma X him Get did bad, bullet knock your man hat in the streets For talkin' East–West, I’ll split you with the fifth, Ave Quick bag, the PG never had a shot Don’t be shocked if the kid pass Let 30 out the thing, Saga versus Chilla Tryin' to make his back slide with a dirty magazine But they say his rounds poppin' And I don’t want no trouble with that But I’m just too damn different like Double Impact Facts, one 9 will clap, your spine will crack From this old Colt, they gon’ have to reunite his back I can scrap, go across his chin, try the left Or the right shift to flip the script: that’s The Butterfly Effect Get ran through, I used to keep the nina on me ‘cause I had to And on them long nights, Coors Light: shit got cold, the can blew But you, on my life, nigga sweet, can’t catch me slippin' I’ll commit assault on Ave like it’s ice on the street Get stomped out if my squad start it He’ll have 50 niggas turnin' up on Ave: that’s a block party But he fuck with the law prob'ly So I shouldn’t waste my breath on a rat, I ain’t John Coffey But niggas blow smoke, no action, so if he miss a step The 5 gettin' whipped from the belt: I go Joe Jackson We pull up gangbangin', hoppin' out the 4-door flaggin' And on sight, I’ll pick you off, like they photo-flagged him I’m known for that, mid battle, a 40 clap That shit will stop Ave dead in a round like a cul-de-sac My style belong on Smack, I’m that sure, you dig me? Y’all remember I’m Gonna Git You Sucka? Well, me not steppin' on the platform is fishy And me versus the niggas y’all wanna see? It won’t happen – I come at them, they run from me So I can only kill what rap niggas Smack put in front of me But first, they ain’t want to fuck with me And I’d have made it to the stage quicker If I’d have done a PG or been from the East But I battled Rex, Red, Ars, Lotta, Magic For me to come to the East and do a PG, that’s backwards But I still made it to this stage without that shit So facts is, I ain’t earn my respect – I snatched it! So you can’t put me in that box, I’m sorry I done travelled all over the atlas, but y’all think I’ma come back to the Ave and get ran off? I’m not Safaree The MAC raised, I’m droppin' every nigga out the BatCave But first it started on the Ave like the old SMACK days! "New York, New York, big city of dreams" Y’all remember that Snoop shit? Well, I brought in my dog pound And let it kick in the building like Snoop did Just worry ‘bout the bars and don’t worry what I got on But if you is worried, lomclothing.com Bitch, I already told him I’m 99 percent gun lines, the other 1 is the slogan: KILL YOURSELF!
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