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Correct Tsu Surf Vs. Rum Nitty Lyrics
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Correct Tsu Surf Vs. Rum Nitty
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[Round 1: Rum Nitty] I’m glad they finally freed The Wave! ‘Cause that’s a place I don’t wanna see no nigga be Jail ain’t for nobody! I even say “Free the opps” That’s ‘cause we the penalty! He gon’ get up here cryin’ Tellin’ out his jail stories so dramatic Mixed in with sports bars, reaches...bodies he never caught… This won’t be classic I know your tactics Studied your game tapes Went over all your old steps (Euro steps) like Ginobili practice You can’t teach me a lesson ‘bout the B’s and the C’s ‘Cause I’m from that And you’ll get banged on, you talk that gang shit to me Whole team gon’ blow .38, and this tre the truth...you don’t want zero smoke! They called, said I had you, you knew I flipped Gave myself a fat pat on the back like, “This nigga done screwed up! *Click!*” On a serious tip, a nigga get clipped Tempt me then, and see how many men this 50 stick pick Or I knock your teeth out, you get hit with this bitch… They gon’ have to bring Tsu veneers back YOU GON’ REMEMBER THIS SHIT! I don’t think him survive ‘Cause if we catch wreck, you’ll see the Tom and a mask (Tom in a mask)...like Vanilla Sky! The homies from the 60’s DIE! I get to takin’ niggas out from NeighborHood like it’s gentrified! I don’t know if you snitched, told, or wrote a statement But we ain’t gon’ bring up the D…’cause real niggas don’t speak of open cases Go ‘head, amp him up Let all that gas get blown I’ll have him leakin’ It’d be too much to intake...your man’ll fold! I holla, “Welcome home, Surf!”...pull some big shit… And fuck up the return...like a squib kick! I’ll line you up Try me, I’ll fire once Body him Now Surf on the can...it’s a Hawaiian Punch! Try your luck Nigga, I said, they’ll get ya- I- uh, Hawaiian Punch- I fucked that part up, hold on... I’ll spin the block Them niggas dashed off runnin’ I’ll pull up slow, loud and bangin’ This shit’ll knock a slab off somethin’! And Calicoe spazzed and was punkin’ you But if you was real, Tsunami, you coulda started by puttin’ that Landslide under you Fuck you wanna do? Even speakin’ in codes, you gon’ die, boy Get a Ginobili from a J.R. Smith shot That’s a Bald Head out the high point He might tote it But it’s fo’ show, he won’t blow it He actin’ gutta, but Tsu a clown on the inside, and y’all know it… Fuck, I gotta put it in subtitles for y’all to get the line? Acting, gutter, sewer, clown on the inside...that’s Pennywise! You be bossin’ Tay around! You gotta stop! That nigga grown! You used to havin’ Roc in yo’ pockets… I used to have a pocket full of stones! We different! My niggas go and handle the smoke ‘Cause we really be on that No cap: the team’s salary low Get clapped up! Saw the barrel short, it got a half-front Split the pole, now the sweeper a foot like I got bad luck You was really gon’ knock out Shine? Well, you down for ya team, I see Well, he shoulda jumped off...for me smokin’ Roc like Lean On Me! Peep! I run a blade through his pupil! Houston! I really did his eye like that Hold up…Houston, “I Like That”... Yeah, I did his eye like THAT! Don’t die! Fight BACK! Aye, how many of y’all posted #FreeTheWave or #FreeSurf? I know I really did And he came back...to face bars… Now I gotta post the shit again! Bitch, you know you prob’ly squealin’ yourself Don’t push Tsu aside Let me do the job...and kill him myself [Round 1: Tsu Surf, the crowd, & Rum Nitty] First thing I hear when I touch down is, “Surf, the Midwest groovin’!” “Such-and-such nice, what’s-his-name doin’ his numbers, and I don’t see the Midwest losin’” Well, I could think of a- Few verbs for the niggas that think they ill I come through the Midwest cruisin’ X all factors, hit all men tryna holla… What was the outcome of your last battle? 2-1? (*claps*) John John almost caught a body I just came home from a attempt Real-life battles, really almost caught a body “Spend less and profit more” That’s how they market y’all goons Trunk like a witches-only parking lot: that mean all brooms Imagine a German Shepherd gettin’ hit with a harpoon I’m Harry Potter: I got way too much magic for your small rooms Nice to meet you, I heard you Crippin’ I gotta question if you real right That tool belt heavy, them hammers and them drills light Robbed me of my innocence when they made me go and steal life You can have debatable battles...when you 30 niggas in real life! It’s mothafuckas like you that make me feel cocky Errybody fight back So? Still body! Smack said, “Welcome home, shon! Do him real sloppy!” Switchblade...stick somethin’ into Rum like Bill Cosby! AYE, ROOOOOC! You battle PG’s, so you PG Had to get solidified on the Proving Ground I be so high up, battlin’ niggas like you is how I prove it’s ground It’s easy to put in- It’s easy to put in- CHILL! It’s easy to put in work on this stage Them air guns be excitin’ Anybody could let off these type of rounds, ‘cause they don’t come wit’ indictments Afrikan Bam- Chill I been there! I BEEN THERE! Afrikan Bambaataa... BAH! Bye-ya! Playin’ wit’ the drum F you and who you with Aimin’ it for fun Hit the door, hit his coat, hit his vest...bang him in the lungs I had a shooting in broad day My hood ain’t Broadway: they caught me raisin’ in the sun You know like I know, this the battle of ya life I had them surgeons pickin’ through rounds I don’t give a fuck about Battle of the Night! And gotta stitch him wit’ precision I hit him, his organs came up Doctors said, “I don’t think he gon’ make it...somethin’ important came up” You’ll get put in a box wit’ them pieces: board games Said I repented ‘bout the bodies before the Lord came More game, found ‘em in the couch like store change Heckler kick combo like Hwoarang! If I get this TEC in, too- nah, chill I’mma get this bum in a box, I’m thinkin’ cardboard I am your father, but this nothin’ like Star Wars Yo, the 9 spark ya, splat him like a flyswatter I kill you and the kin I turn families into sky walkers I can’t find you - where ya girl at? I can’t find you, catch your bitch, aim at her top Scope sound like, “choo-BAKA!” Your princess’ll lay in a BOX! You might’ve seen plenty, but you’ve never seen me get 3-0’d Ordered paper for a gun, paper for assault If I catch this body, I’mma have to see three P.O.’s C’MERE! Fuck is you talm’bout? You checkin’ who? ‘Member what I said about that TEC in, too? Catch your boo, tomato paste your baby face: vegetable Dot him: decimal You nuts tryna test a cool Walk through a metal detector with somethin’ undetectable Long arm: Mr. Incredible Unprofessional Somethin’ big enough to stop shit like, “Wait...this is unacceptable!” Big rounds, Ferris wheel Boy, I’ll start a festival Did wrong for so long, they couldn’t correct me in that correctional Through the door- AYE, ROC! Through the door, hit the baby, hit the sectional Arm over there: “How that happen? He look flexible” Ring at his leg: boy, ain’t nobody textin’ you Lift him, a different type of high: this a edible Drawn on his face: hmmm, wasn’t legible Biohazard vers’ a bisexual .40 I named “Pterodactyl”, I threw him terrible How you checkin’ me, lil' nigga, when I’m checkin’ you? Don’t hold him back, let him through Weapon 1, Weapon 2 Steppin’ through Llama lickin’ out the hand like a petting zoo You don’t know what’s in store No, really - you don’t know what’s in store I’m in Neiman’s wit’ them sacks (Saks) Smack be sendin’ plenty Enough M out to give four men mills (Foreman Mills) They give niggas like you and JC pennies (JC Penney's)! No bracelet...thank God! That foot lock’ll (Foot Locker) make you wanna cut it wit’ a knife I pay less, but bring more I may see (Macy’s) somethin’ that I like Like that new HK, a felon wit’ a gun Clip hold the same thing, forever...21! Your shit - I’mma wrap it up Your shit filled wit’ filler, filler, bar, filler, bar Fake guns and lead rounds Word to my mama stitches, different type of thread, clown Movin’ your hands all crazy, breakin’ what you said down All my bars Goodz wit’ Jimz I could just throw a punch and put my head down! Jersey! [Round 2: Rum Nitty & Tsu Surf] Aye! Whatever happened to the dirty, dingy, sweaty, skinny, V-neck-wearin’ Surf? Big up to Smack He used to cook niggas! You got Hollywood and lost yo’ step, saw your foot slippin’ 100,000 followers and a verification check, and you start bullshittin’ You started with a Loaded Lux co-sign, too But you ain’t have no work ethic to back the shit And most of the niggas they matched him with, is passin’ him If this ain’t accurate, why Verb get Mook? Why Tay Roc the face of URL when they ain’t pick you? How you got the most fuckin’ sports bars in battle rap, and ESPN ain’t hit you!? I was locked up So was Shine I was in jail This bitch through! So fuck if he seasoned, he gettin’ cooked now! And for y’all niggas thinkin’ Tsu mo’ rounded, I had to put my foot down! Now reverse it Lift up, give Tsu mo’ rounds They gon’ push you out the circle Nigga, duck yo’ mothafuckin’ head, or get popped at But it’s a stick hangin’ out the mill’ (meal) Let’s see if you could bob (kebab) that! He drop flat You not a big problem You micro, Wave: this TEC-9’ll stop that! I pop the trunk If this don’t go cool, fuck it Dome shot, and send Tsu bean gettin’ popped You think he gon’ recover? FUCK you! Touch my hat like you Roc, I’ll get you lined up Go ‘head, pull that Tay bull It’d be a wrap for 60’s…Fight Klub! I light some, like we prometh sippin’ ‘Cause it’s no act I walk with the pole up, and empty out the TEC in him That’s me bein’ lenient, leanin’ him After the mill’, point one in his mouth like bulimia BLAOW! What y’all see in him? He be up here screamin’ and screechin’ And y’all gas that high-pitched voice...like helium! I remember Eric beatin’ him He did you greasy, a mean bag Crazy, ‘cause you gone to war with niggas… But you still couldn’t eat E: I mean that! We bring all kinda smoke! Like, look, I rap ill, but we be on the ave still, with the iron low Hold up, hold up, I got one Aye, remember in Boyz n the Hood, when Rickey got the scratch-off? They split up, he got hit in the back with a shotgun? That’s a subtitle, ‘cause you should get scratched off for splittin’ up, and you turnin’ your back on Shotgun! We still squeezin’! Silencer, you can barely hear Nina 9 wit’ a ‘tato (Tadoe) on it: I kill people! Aye, you keepin’ talkin’ ‘bout your .40 In every line, you hype it Well, this a Draco, homie I’ll take this over yo’ (OVO) .40...and have you dyin’ like him! See a nigga from your team and slide him Watch how I tune him up on the spot if I see a Title We don’t play ‘round! Keep K’s now And on sight, it’s goin’ down, load it, and do The Wave foul! Hit his back when I clapped it It go through his spinal Now it’s a hole in the Title: I got Champion status! What’s happenin’? Get pressed for real A whole nigga get revealed Had the whole NeighborHood showin’ they true colors, like Pleasantville We not close! Watch as I out-rap the Jersey nigga: Toronto! The Glock old And I done been through obstacles with this shit, Tsu: it’s a dog show Whole team get slumped I ain’t tryna wrestle, I rest Tsu And the rest’ll go to sleep soon as I see ‘em, punk! And I get paid less!? Is you kiddin’ me!? Well, Nitty need more dead presidents after The Wave...that’s Kennedy! Bitch! And you know you prob’ly squealin’ yourself Don’t push Tsu aside Let me do the job...and kill him myself Bitch! [Round 2: Tsu Surf] Yo, yo, yo, yo (*clears throat*) Yeah, one more’ll get you outta here That Dragon Ball Z and that dog shit was hard Um, let’s rap a li’l bit It’s gon’ be a long night Be prepared, you better stretch Young boys wit’ good 9s and better TECs Need a helmet, get a vest I would get up, but better yet, make a call I handle mine sittin’ down like Professor X That’s a bunch of- It’s different, it’s different That’s a bunch of goons I don’t care if your team play Airin’ when I see you: no Green Bay Machines spray Two Desert Eagles, I fire bird shit...Jean Grey It be metal flyin’ from the hands ‘til they scarred from the clutchin’ Why gamble with Gambit? It’s just a different type of fire on the card when I touch it I gotta keep a heater The buckle hot, we muzzle Glocks Long-range bang, a couple blocks A couple shot Couple niggas, couple drop See a mu’fucker shot He fell when it hit him... Don’t know if I hit his jug or not (Juggernaut)! I don’t say I take lives, that’s God job I’m a life-caller Oh, you Crip, right? Well, bullets POP out the blue like Nightcrawler! If he say anything slick, we goin’ in his mouth For that ice, man, would you believe we stormed in his house? Two total different levels! It’s nothin’ he could do with me! You heard Iceman, Storm, but you probably missed Jubilee These thoughts be fuckin’ with my head This shit don’t be real Like, y’all know how a white person be talkin’ to a pet and say, “Heel”? Cool! Well, peep how I do the thing A mean dog with no owner: I heal myself like Wolverine I mean, I ain’t- What you say? What was-? It was Dragon Ball Z? I ain’t even really a cartoon nigga! I’m just a pleaser What you say? Dragon Ball Z? If I was a Dragon Ball fan, I would say this cat could ride (Kakarot) in one of my trunks, or the freezer (Frieza) As far as these hammer goes, even my grandma knows Either he got a mean plug, or the Grand Theft hammer cold Pull up on his block trippin’ All red, Santa Claus 21 leavin’ the ratchet: it ain’t Amber Rose Yoshimitsu, big blade, long scar It’d be like Nana died: they all scarred Offense the best defense, that’s what I call guard Don’t be a moron I pull that Bulldog if Nit come poop in the wrong yard I have my mans cut ya for a couple bands, brother Word to the grandmothers Surgeries, autopsies, open shit I have Tay stitch him Stand over Roc and cheer while he’s sewin’ Nit What else he say? He said Dragon Ball Z and he said dogs Dogs… Who said he was the Gun Bar King? Please! Roc wilder (Rottweiler)! I mean, your career ain’t stagnant, you pulled off But Gun Bar King? Stop with the bull, dog! Last time he was in New York, he (Yorkie) lost Nigga, please! I’m in the house with the K, a 9, and both his sister’s daughters Nigga, pick a niece (Pekingnese)! What’s in my palm’ll rain (Pomeranian) You hear the Reaper callin’ the nigga They gon’ say, “Oh, shit...Tsu (Shih Tzu) was really doggin’ that nigga” Jersey That’s 2-zip I won? Oh, alright, I won Alright, we outta here We goin’ home Aye, Smack, book me up, Smack We out here I did my job, we out Thank you for coming, though [Round 3: Rum Nitty & the crowd] Aye, this ain’t the first time us meetin’, not really ‘Cause, come to think about it, Roc battled me wit’ yo’ style So, in a sense, I beat you already Police-ass nigga, he be runnin’ with the pork Just like when he fuck up on a line, and say, “Jersey”, he know how to cut a sentence short! Against John, I shot myself in the foot, I admit But it’s cool ‘cause a Don is the reason I gotta push for this win I’m knockin’ out lights if y’all test me I’ll shock a Jersey nigga, leave him lyin’ all messy You ain’t actually bangin’ You PUSSY! Get clapped for fakin’! So when machines come out, it’s for all that fabrication I’ll really clap you! Headshot, and we can see in his face...like a Nitty battle! This hot iron lay all y’all flat You don’t wanna tangle Just relax, ‘cause you goin’ straight into a coma nap Unload out the strap They playin’ games until I black Opps’ll get ghost after that Black 9! Make you think the world ain’t round, nigga Ask why! Why? ‘Cause I’ll let her rise, then you’ll see a flatline! I ain’t gotta lie to kick it, the shit natural And I don’t think Tsu organic, like Hoffa did it Some of the raps you got is decent But the stretches killin’ me (*Rum’s mic messes up*) Y’all can hear me? Yeah! Aye, some of the raps you got is decent But the stretches killin’ me You like Lady Liberty: the one stat you got is reachin’ And you and Suge beefin’ over goofy shit Whole team pushin’ Jersey backwards: the St. Lunatics! You pull the bitch type of move! I talk that shit ‘cause I’m entitled to...and I end Titles, too! Your chances slim Nigga know he finna die One .357 and a 9 Who wanna go against the odds!? It be a rough ride It’s in my bloodline to keep a tool, lurkin’ Air hoes, bring the TEC with the Swiss nose to where this fool Surf is I ain’t playin’ wit’ y’all Your whole clique bait Soon as the clip change, this ain’t what you thought! I do not play with niggas! In order for you to get outta these bars, you goin’ through some shit: Shawshank Redemption! It’s nothin’ next after me A 762 through your sternum will root canal your chest cavity And you got your name from rollerbladin’ on skates Is that a lie? Sawed-off, it’s a halfpipe: it put skaters in the sky! Whole side get to shootin’ Four K’s Pick, Tsu, ‘fore a clear shot high resolution Niggas talkin’ ‘til we up straps I’ll put this bitch in position, and you’ll act mo’ calmer, Tsu: trust that Bitch, you can’t keep it real yourself Nigga, suicide, or I’ll do the job You decide…(kill yourself!) [Round 3: Tsu Surf & Rum Nitty] My homeboy said, “You gotta watch out for Nitty, ‘cause he play-play” Boy, I almost gave my neighbor the ratchet like Sheneneh Harden with the left, baby choppa I could helicop’ A razor from the corner I ain’t lyin’, it’ll never stop I’m from the PJs, I tuck her ‘cause this life come with heavy opps I will pah-rum-pah-pum Rum with a drum No Clint: a cappella box! Pass the blower We caught bodies for 50 cash and over I’ll be on this bitch ass: I swear to Fashion Nova! You don’t know what I thought about I’ll take him to that slaughterhouse Drag him, fingernails snappin’ on the pavement Big Tigga: you just hear scratchin’ in the basement! Big Tigga: you just hear scratchin’ in the basement- Aaahhhh… I’m outta here, bruh I’m good, I’m good I went through my shit, you rap through your shit I rapped through my shit, I fucked up Rap, bro! Rap, bro! You told me this was a classic, bro You owe me that Run it back, just run it back My homeboy said, “You gotta watch on Nitty, ‘cause he-” Nah, I ain’t about to go through that shit again Yeah, I’m good I got it, I’m good [*Tsu and Rum dap each other up and give each other a “good-game” hug*] I didn’t mean to fuck it up
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