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Correct Tay Roc Vs Ill Will Lyrics
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Correct Tay Roc Vs Ill Will
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[Round 1: Tay Roc] I'ma tell you like this, pussy, you shoulda stayed in the Midwest The shit you're in not a piss test These shots that I let out the stock, they go in vest Leave him leakin' red, now he blue, he ain't switch sets This bitch flex, get chin-checked, or stretched by my index I pull up, then push up on your niggas You'll get your bench pressed The after-school program: I'll give these kids wreck Like I left on the Caps Locks: that's big TEC's I been stressed, I ain't impressed with none of these new niggas Smack shoulda told you I don't just give the shots, I shoot through niggas I turn your yearbook pic into a news picture Leave you in a ocean of blood and let your crew ship ya Go ahead, tell me how you'll drop me if my jaw get tapped You like a motorcycle junkyard: you hardly scrap Be all you can be, that'll get your army clapped Everybody get hit with this SIG: it's a party pack I don't fuck with y'all fags, y'all on a gay team You better slide, I'll hit you for real, I don't play swing I'll clap the 9, leave him absent-minded: that's a daydream They'll find this artist underground or floatin' on a main-stream Silly old you if you confess to the cops No video shoot, your whole set gettin' shot Your silly ho too, she get stretched when I pop I'm KFC, I wing the drumstick, leave her thighs and breasts in a box Ayy, Will, check out this floor scheme, I hope you understand it I'll give your bitch hard wood since you take her for granted Caught that? Your marbles on the floor when I spark that Ridin' with a all black chopper, that's my car pet Carpet, marble, hardwood… them all floors I'm strapped with a 22, one 8, them all 4's Run down on him, I'm like, "Here, they all yours!" Have him tryin' to recoupe from bullets from his car door If I don't off bull, my goons in line at his mom's door Tryin' to get him like he Concords I'm strapped like Goro, that's what I'm armed for When they find this boy in a box it won't be cardboard Aw, Lord, I give him flashbacks of a while ago If Will gettin' cash eatin' I'ma host him with a Calico Speakin' of Calicoe, I'll fuck him up after ya I will put Cal in the ER any day on the calendar That shit I did to Qleen Paper was a massacre I will get X boxed: no Soul Calibur Will, I'll scrap with ya If I lose, before son rise I'll have you sleepin' in a coffin: Dracula I keep two K's, you're not that live This who I gotta kill to show you niggas Roc top 5? Why not JC? He'da end up gettin' popped outside That MAC could rain a bullet, so when you hear that cha-cha, slide! Shout out to my nigga Midwest Miles I look at all y'all like, "Y'all is Midwest childs." I'll have you wishin' you was back in the Midwest now With my arsonal aimed at the only trick in this Midwest crowd Play Superman, I'ma play the Kryptonite I'm Papa Johns: you get a slice when I grip the knife Hey, Smack, get it right, ain't none of these niggas nice If you ain't from the East Coast you ain't winnin' shit tonight Simple as that, I gives a fuck what this nigga said I will turn a closed casket into this nigga bed Rex told me go back to Maryland with this nigga head I'ma hang it on my wall, y'all know this nigga dead! [Round 1: III Will] How many of y'all feel like I ain't supposed to be on this stage tonight by a show of hands? Well, that's cool ‘Cause I read the comments and I feel the same way Just ‘cause y'all don't want me on this stage tonight That don't mean that y'all gay But dawg… y'all don't want me on this stage tonight?! Man, y'all gay! Second thing, I just wanna tell you Tell my nigga right here, this fat fuck Don't say shit while I'm rappin', because this ain't that kinda sport I'm the type of nigga that we can handle it after the battle And I'll slap him off his momma porch You ain't got no bodies, you signed this contract You dickin' yourself sayin' you a killer I see y'all still slowin' it down, well, speed it up I said you ain't got no bodies You's contradictin' yourself sayin' you a killer I told y'all I was on some other shit Now I'ma show y'all how to smother shit But I'm gettin' head in your mother whip She outer space thinkin' I'm her boyfriend But we only fuck in the car: that's the mothership Niggas like you and Shotgun don't say shit, I got a legacy already Niggas like you and Shotgun don't say shit But if you spell it out your leg'll see why This shotgun ain't nothin' to play with I'm the same nigga from BET, you see how I spit it to him? Same nigga from BET that said "fuck it!" Then won it, straight drop how I give it to him But them battle rappers, I was just siftin' through 'em But now for the dead pres I'm back OD'ing on Smack like Chris Tucker in the living room Ain't shit fuckin' change Y'all gon' make me say "fuck the fame!" And have this nigga lookin' like Alonzo when the Russians came Nah, that was fuckin' lame, and this ain't no fuckin' game So if he go for the steal I'll put one round his head And tuck it back in the shirt like Hot Sauce at a Rucker game I ain't fuckin' playin', you from the slums? Nah, you right, you is from the slums slums But you actin' like I don't got young guns That'll come and leave you slumped some I still got young guns that'll put dum-dums in your tum tum For the bread, they'll put a knot on your head: that's a lump sum What you gon' do if I come to Baltimore? Like "fuck what y'all say!" You ain't gon' flip no rage or lift no gauge I'ma be in that hallway all day Sellin' rock around Roc like a dopeboy in the Flintstone age But if you come to the Yak, you know what they gon' say? You have just entered hell, Roc You can't tell, Roc? You can't adapt to where we dwell, Roc One night and you'll hear "dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah" Nigga feelin' like he shell-shocked You from the booty grippin' crew, that's why I can't stand the bitch You can't even stand to piss, but pick a fight with me Bitch, I'll swing a cannon fist, damage shit Big loads knockin' down doors when we blammin' shit Attach that long-ass banana clip, when I swing it look like a… Bitch, it look like a long-ass banana clip! But when that 40 blow, that's what? A rocket when it blast off? No, too slow When that 40 blow that's what Roc get when it blast off [Round 2: Tay Roc] They ask me why I ain't been on UW or King of the Dot Doesn't even matter This is my 9th URL, all my views are in the league that matters End up like Samuel, I'll reach and stab ya Like Method Man on 187, that's how I teach a actor I'm mad I'm battlin' you for no extra paper You have never been on a URL card so I'm doin' the effin' favor You should take caution or I'll yellow-tape ya To my shooters I make sure bills get passed, I'll be the legislature I don't respect your gangsta Swave, you my nigga, why you made him Team Homi? You shouldn't let in strangers I'll hit this investigator with a heavy banger Put this cop in a walker if he try and text his ranger I wish you would cross God: no intersection Leave your men in black when I give Will Smith & Wesson's It's ironic how when I raise hell he get sent to Heaven I'm Funk Flex: I'll let this hot 9 give him seven Tay Roc lose to III Will? Bad prediction You're from Pontiac and ran into Roc: bad collision You swing on me, get your life taken, that's a given Shots will have your shit all outside: that's eviction I will get your bitch merked: Mike Vick shit Chopper the size of Tori Doe, this some slick shit I will leave his lady red when I grip this Pop the trunk, put you in it, then make your Ms. fit Tell this bitch quit, his money long I get him taped up for that Like, "Open your safe, or you won't wake up for that!" If it's empty I'ma find where your mother at When this mask scare her I bet she'll make up for that I could get you set up – fuck, is you deaf, player? You better walk, man, for the record I could set player When I black over white blocks, that's a chess player Get him clapped, find him out in Brooklyn like a Nets player Exchange words? I ain't got shit to say If we argue, right in the middle of talking you get a K Now spell it out, and you'll see that that shit was straight ‘Cause if you spell out "talking" in the middle there is a K I see you like rebuttals, well, try that shit with me Right in the middle of your rebuttals you gettin' T:d Now spell it out, and you'll see that that shit was mean ‘Cause if you spell out "rebuttals," in the middle there is a T Rebuttal that! If we wreck, then it's a wrap JC try and break it up, his little neck is gettin' snapped Cal step in, get him clapped He'll be Isaiah Thomas: Detroit nigga pissed on with 11 in his back If I said it, it's a fact, shit talkin' get you penalized I could tell you soft lookin' in your tender eyes I be walkin' with a pump, sawed-off, minimized One round knockin' out every round that he memorized Niggas die, I don't change shit when I'm strapped on him Gun bar after gun bar, ‘cause I'm strapped on him When I clap on him it's a wrap for him Since he from Yak-Town I'll have his town pourin' out 'Yac for him I said chill, Will, if I don't steal Will, the steel will Headshots, he won't remember a round: I'll Yung III Will I let the crowd choose how you get it, when I kill Will Should I give him a Smith like Emmitt, or Emmitt Till Will? Fuck what you call him, I don't find him that iII When I fire at Will, I just fire at will They gon' find his ass killed; even though this ain't your hood You could end up in the trunk of a Pontiac still [Round 2: III Will] I'm the illest nigga movin', you get me? I'm rebuttalin' that last thing about rebuttalin' so you can hit me I know you're not, so shut the fuck up! Everybody wanna battle Lux like he God or somethin' I don't, so Jesus, after him, you up Nigga, you cannot walk in my shoes nor fit in my jeans They will have to hem you up I come to the funeral and alter everything on the altar When they readin' that hymn, you up Nigga, I will hem you up You ain't feelin' me? I will "him" you up – that's Smack, nigga That's just the evil thoughts of a Yak nigga What you gon' do, nigga? Ice my house like an igloo, nigga? But tell the truth, nigga Niggas be hatin' on that line like it was bad, but however That igloo line put this nigga ahead Of every battle rapper, even Lux, he better ‘Cause with that igloo line you said that was so fuckin' clever That gave him the biggest Eskimo fan base ever But I'm at his bitch crib though I'm like, "You got a fat ass! Can I hit somethin'? You mind gettin' that thong ripped and gettin' some long dick?" She too reached down, palm gripped, said "Aww, shit!" I said, "Bitch, let me hit somethin'." She said, "I can't right now," I said, "Bitch, we is finna fuck!" She said, "Well, the kids here, and Tay Roc—" I said, "Bitch, I don't care if the kids playin' or he is pullin' up." Five minutes later Daddy was almost breakin' a rib in them guts He came in, I upped the tool He said, "Kids, run!" – I mean they did try to rush But that's why I had that Magnum on me ‘Cause it catch kids when I bust Damn, not here, nigga! Not here, nigga! I can't choke, ‘cause I'm not a top tier nigga I said I'm that new nigga that y'all need to know, flow freezer cold You just another bitch to me: you Keisha Cole If you got that bag and don't pay that ticket You'll be in the ER if you owe 'em, b And if you don't live, then you see more ratchets Y'all think I'm chokin'? Y'all ain't even peep that I just said he'll be in ER if you O M B: that's Bmore backwards Let me hear you gettin' them dead presidents I pull up in the Lincoln, that's what the weapon in Run up, bend your men for the settlement And you gon' get your face on the 50 like Jefferson Don't say "oooh," because that's his shit But we gon' talk about his shit You gon' put his face on the 50 like Jefferson? You fucked up, ‘cause I'm either some dumb I might be some dumb, but he plum dumb Where in the fuck do your money come from?! Ayy, but that's cool, ‘cause if that's the case That ain't where the shit stop ‘Cause I'm feelin' like Roc, cashed out when I'm at the mall Or when I play with the bitches, wavin' expenses Pockets stay full of Reagan's and Nixon's Oh, you ain't heard? I'm the man on these city streets Me and my niggas went to King of Diamonds yesterday And made it rain all Kennedy's I'm gettin' money, nigga, but let me get off that ‘Cause every bag I get, that's another bad bitch to ask for dick Ask your bitch, don't be actin' pissed Or you'll get smacked and shit Or use this target practice when I'm blastin' shit Let off two, told him to move his shoes Or get socked out his Tru's: that's a fashion tip But the third round was the one that killed him That's ironic, that's what we ask from clips Just ‘cause I'm fried don't mean you can't get your dame boiled ‘Cause soon as I saw Tay, I let it cook So his ho can see I barbecued when that flame broil [Round 3: Tay Roc] You was on national television, you didn't get paid and you still not poppin' – what has it done for you? You cocky off them 106 wins? I'ma humble you Whatever you got paid tonight, I'm paid double you I fuck up every rapper I come across, that's nothin' new I don't fuck with you, I make fun of you right in front of you Even though this ain't biological, I'm sonnin' you You wanna win a battle, well, Roc ain't who you run into Now I'ma put you back in the Proving Ground for a month or two You be talkin' in codes usin' that fake Jamaican sound We don't talk in codes on the phone ‘cause we don't play around I tell my shooter, "Clap any faggot you see standin' round!" Crucify him, that mean once you cross him get him hammerd down He like, "What if this fat nigga try to run?" I'm like, "Track him down." I guess y'all want me to define that, that mean map his town When you see him, pat him down If he smirk, crack his smile, clap him down Leave him on his face: Pacquiao Real life, don't get yours taken, I won't play with you This ain't a movie, you can get your kids taken too One clip, but it holds 30, look like it's takin' two When I grip that Lemon Squeeze I ain't makin' juice Tay the truth, I came with all bars, I don't joke Besides the fact your mom smoke crack and smell like dope smoke I'm loco, I run up on your bitch while she's solo She's Evelyn: her head gets the butt of the ocho I'll fuck his bitch and his sister in the same car Fuck his bitch in the backseat, then I trade off Strokin' your sister, then I pull out of that lame broad Your bitch cleaned my dick with her mouth: I got brainwashed This that old Roc, disrespect to your whole block This 4 pop, leave holes in him the size of boat locks Face shots: Botox, killin' niggas, I won't stop Another Midwest nigga that ran into that road block I'm so hot, you heard you had me, you shoulda called it quits You prayin' that I choke in my third, but I ain't Charlie Clips Ayy, Charlie Clips, could I take it a bit further? How he kill me but I lived to talk about it? Ain't that attempt murder? Fuck that! Back to you, William must be high on crack From now on I'm disrespectin' niggas, fuck how you act If your bitch jump in between us while we try and scrap I'ma put baby to sleep when I give that dime a tap How is that? Holla at me, I'ma holla back One on one I'll make this nigga look like Kyla Pratt Please don't make this llama clap When it pop off I'll put you in the same place I put Rich Dolarz at I'm nice! I'm nice! I'll be that You tryin' to tango? I'll box your head like Oovoo for the tiny chat All I know is this grimy rap; you swing, I'll bob the cat Once I right him, I left him, like "I'll be back." As far as my money, don't get in between I find your bitch, take that B head: that's guillotine You scheme in your raps, I really scheme With extensions that'll take that whole party out like a limousine I keep two quarters on me without a conscience I could do four dimes for these two nickels, but if they find this Here's a penny for your thoughts, give me nonsense That chopper holds a dollar, when I shoot that's 99 cents [Round 3: III Will] I'm mad right now, so fuck it, I'm about to talk shit What you niggas mad at? ‘Cause I'm the new nigga? Y'all have to go from A to B, B to C, D to E I went from A to E, you think I give a fuck where Tay'II be? Just only wanna say one thing I don't wanna hear no "Don Demarco!" Or no "Bang… Bang… Bang…" because that shit gay to me But look, you told Shine that he got his swag from Rex And that he was Rex foster child You right, and Murda Mook is his foster mother But if he killed you and joined Dot Mob What is he? His foster brother Now, Summer Madness 3 got pushed back But fuck it, we made his fall bigger These Dot Mob niggas all dinner Come with the chop at his block And make it motherfuckin' rain all over the place like a call center I'm walkin' up on him, like, "Tay Roc! Why the fuck is you nervous? Fuck is your purpose?" The only benefits you got with Dot Mob Is if I do you bodily harm you under some nurses But if my mans get that call he'll meet, greet, serve you And send you on your way: that's customer service Kill you, then off your spouse next I hate you so much I hope a mosquito fly over to Magic Johnson crib, then come to your house next I'll catch Tay on the late night, hood on, brim low I gotta creep silence with that 40, you know, tip toe Soon as I see him I– man, what the fuck I gotta do that shit for? I could walk up to this nigga with no strap Like, "Bitch, what they hit for?" He ain't even do nothin' on the nigga that beat his moms But I bet he'll hit a bitch though Fifth blow, leave him layin' there, like, "That's berserk." See your bitch, grab her purse Run in the room, stab the nurse, blasts disperse Have this bitch-ass nigga chest lookin' like a afterbirth Fuck that old Roc, them two niggas Four burners and that stove top! This that one 12 blinkin' in your face: that's that broke clock I know these niggas lookin' like "Aight, III Will, you could tell he a threat, he ready for vets." Nah, I'm already ahead of the rest So fuck a vest, protect your head and your neck I'm tissin' on all these top tier bitches And waitin' on the outcome: that's a pregnancy test Left him a mess, Tay, we can box if you want Get socked if you jump, MAC in the car, but not in the trunk Cockin' the pump, it's like I'm a virgin on a murder spree I could kill this bitch and not give a fuck I let that snub nose touch Roc I'm the director of a rehabilitation center: fuck Roc! I'm silent granite, he pomegranate, I cock it, blam it It look like rocket damage when Roc get damaged But dawg, you from the booty grippin' crew Look, I know it just sound like I'm chastisin' and scoldin' and shit But maybe these words will mold you and shit Homosexuality in your faculty is noticed and shit Niggas grab on your booty when you flowin' and shit What if you spit a hot three rounds? K Shine gon' come grab your scrotum and shit What if you in the studio and spit a hot track? They gon probably— dawg, y'all see where I'm goin' with this? But fuck it, if y'all get money, why would I ruin that shit? But at least we all know now what y'all do for that shit I'm a Team Homi ‘cause every real nigga know me I'm a Team Homi nigga because I'm good when I'm OT I'm a Team Homi nigga because I'm everywhere hood be Ayo, Aye Verb, I'm a Team Homi nigga Because your momma said I could be I got that Glock in the right, push his wig left Bullets Catholic Priests: touch his kid next I'm tryin' to smoke, empty his guts, split his mid sect I remind Tay of Aye Verb mother, toughest nigga in the Midwest This nigga Math Hoffa said I stole his Jamaican shit, y'all So out of every battle rapper, that's the nigga I'ma steal from? What the fuck is the reason? Besides, he stole Bonnie from me So if anything, motherfucker, we even Did Tsu Surf pull an AR off his hip? Tell me that it's not so Tell Hitman to stop shootin' empty shells, pronto! And if Hollow wanna be Hollow he can get a hollow, blindfold I don't care if I get high or low Straight up I made this shit, ain't nobody gave me shit Niggas talkin' about they paved the way for me Nigga, pave this dick, Yak-Town in this bitch, man
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