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Correct Tay Roc Vs. Rum Nitty Lyrics
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Correct Tay Roc Vs. Rum Nitty
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[Round 1: Tay Roc] Niggas claimin' Gunbar King? Niggas not me I used to carry one, now I pair it, they tryna (*crowd*: mock me) I could take that bar, and switch how it's comin' at ya Like, I used to carry one, now I pair it like "Polly want a cracker" So you made up the phrase Gunline King, save that Nigga you owe me 'bout 2 years of homage and you ain't paid yet I told Smack "I'll give Rum a shot off top." How can you knock off Roc when you're a knock-off Roc? The Cave is here, don't disrespect in the spot I have niggas that rep lick a shot and leave my replica shot Ain't nothin' similar 'bout us That sound like stupid shit, two tools to spit I tuck the original, then beat this copycat with the duplicate Ruthless shit, somethin' to air you I have Nitty starin' down a shotgun: that's how you put Rum in a barrel Fuck up his apparel, this mag' full of hollows Leave Rum split down the middle like niggas went half on the bottle (That's light! This is my house!) But look, fuckin' wit me tonight? This where your ship sink Talk shit, when Rum get punched it ain't a mixed drink We run in his house, click-clank My man cover the top floors Roc got the bottom covered like a fish tank We search the whole crib, make sure the shit's scanned proper If your bitch don't open the safe, she get the shit slammed out her! Pump with a clip lookin' like a big damn chopper She'll have to duck a shotgun like she Hitman Holla! (That's light! It's a long night bro!) When Smack said "you versus Nitty," I said "I'll take him happily." I just battled Arsonal, this shit is degradin' actually Fuck it, if he touch me, I make a casualty It'll be off on a limb, I'm puttin' Rum in a blender and makin' Daiquiris I'm Bruce Leroy, tell your niggas I'm with the action Sho'nuff, when it glow you'll be the last nigga draggin' (dragon) I'll put you in the sky, nigga, you can sit with Jasmine Meaning you'll be laid out on the carpet if I get a lad' in (Aladin) This Desert from the Middle East, the lead clap No turban, but I'll K the nigga and leave his head wrapped Try and play me in the place I play with beams, if you don't see a G hide (Jihad) A ray be in (Arabian) a nigga face Like carryin' school lunch, the tre be by a nigga waist Or I let a nina take him out: that's a dinner date I tell the waiter "That's my man over there, send a stake!" Y'all gone see him get the stuff in his face like the dinner great Boy I will let a Eagle clean your clock, I always had a loose screw To make this bird pop out the box, you must be cuckoo! 'Cause a man gettin' shot, I get my hands on a Glock I have a metal round in the middle of him like a grandfather clock You said you'll leave Roc on Ave like cobblestone You should stop it soon Before I catch you and the Poet, I got a lot of goons That a run up on him… Sonic BOOM! They'll find Rum on KG, what's that? Kevin Garnett drinkin' in the locker room You told Clips you could flip out with two bars, cool Well when I clap mine I just leave a nigga dead with one flat line I come to Arizona to air a zone, I pack mine Y'all gone see the 4th Quarters split like it's half time Oh nah, he Team Homi now, nigga, fuck you still! I put you in the same Pontiac trunk as the other fuckin' Will (wheel) I fuck with Swave, the love is real 'Cause I can dap the whole Team Homie Get to Rum and snuff him still NOME 6, I'm tired of waitin' Next Summer, if I don't see Hollow, Hitman, Con, no conversation You can't take my spot, this spot is taken If Smack was hoopin' and his ball went flat, he'd never find a Roc replacement – light bars! [Round 1: Rum Nitty] You not even the leader in your clique, go and get your boss Nigga's soft, and speakin' all that killer talk Is really just gone get you off'd He gave me a shot in Irving Plaza though, real nigga y'all If I return the favor it'll be another venue lost! A clip get tossed, we get sticks involved For war we ready, Russian AK-47, Kalashnikov Conceited said it's me and you next… tell him don't get involved! I might snap your neck, after I black Roc eye, Con (black rock icon) I'll Jimi Hendrix y'all! Don't piss me off, I'll do you very bad I'm ruthless, I can kill you, Jerry Heller fast Bullet like a Pepsi can, you say some light shit 'Til somethin' big races and you go in a heavy bag But you wanna hold the GOAT spot Cool, I'm thinkin' after this cut I give you, I know you won't Roc Shit is over, close shot .357, six shooter, give him Polio shots Bah! Fuck a distance, close-range the best Think The Game of Death 'Cause I let a kick from one foot stay in your chest The fans tellin' me, "Use more personals! Put the gunlines up! Add some angles!" I'm thinkin'… if he get personal You'll see the gun line up, at an angle! Is that an angle?! The upper room where the ladder take you I let it go behind your back: nigga, that's betrayal You get to actin' brave and you get bodied' wit him Mini chopper pistol Tempt me and I'll let this Draco loose like Rihanna trippin' You all can get it I hit Wolf out in Harlem with it Y'all gone see me put I.C.E. on Roc: it's like I'm water-whippin'! But this nigga so trash y'all be givin' a pass He be sayin' shit like "Area 59," "Sat-ur-in," and y'all niggas react This battle shit is turnin' into the music industry, facts 'Cause the shit on the radio sound good But they don't make sense when they rap And what's the top-tier motto? "It's not what you say, it's how you say it." That means "Fuck the content, it's 'bout the cadence." Don't make sense but it sounds amazin' Then the crowd go crazy, I had enough of that! I shove a gun down your throat and tell you run it back I go in your mouth with the lil' Uzi: NOW YOU CAN MUMBLE-RAP! BRRRAT! (THIS is why you was duckin' me!) (That was why he was duckin'!) These niggas not as tough as they sound I mean they only really tough in they rounds Fuck Rum! The gun Brandy: it'll lay a wannabe down Nah, fuck that! I get drunk then crash your shit Henny shots, then lay a wannabe down soon as the Brandy hit Now that's legit, I wish you would try, fam stop Double-barrel, so the 12 take both sides: Good Cop, Bad Cop Nah, I lift the carbon up, click [?] If you ain't got it on you I'll plant Roc You not nice you kiddin' me, you not grippin' heat You light with no gun: Top Flight Security This where the hype stop I got the biggest heat But you'll get the little nickel piece since you light, Roc That was light, Roc Watch your mouth 'fore I leave you leakin' from it Don't be speakin' funny Or get your jaw tapped, you'll be speakin' funny I got past security with this heat I'm tuckin' I snuck the MAC backstage: don't make me Sigel somethin' I pull up at your moms in a taxi, leave the meter runnin' Run in, slap the plate out her hand Like, "Sorry, bitch! I don't eat turducken!" We do not play! Put two in your chest when the chop' raise Then one mo' could (mocha) sit in your mug I do this shit a lot, Tay! (latte) Fuck a Dot Cave! It's 4th motherfuckin' Homi My whole team might bang And them niggas will get on your head if you speak my name Nigga, we not playin', fully automatic pop Then I let Jesus handle Roc… thinkin' he got game! Nigga real shit, you can't keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I'll do the job, you decide, kill yourself! [Round 2: Tay Roc] First round I was bein' nice, the courtesy is done Tell your mother I ain’t takin' care of you ‘til that paternity is done You are my child, this certainly is fun I feel like 50 in that episode of Power Killin' him, lettin' him know you don’t deserve to be my son This is where I put you in time-out! Get in the corner! Be in the house when them streetlights come on Or I’m flippin’ on ya! I will beat ya ass in front of your friends, start pickin’ on ya Long as you in my house there’s some shit we gonna get in order! Do everything that your mother say, ‘cause that’s my broad And you better not disrespect your mother, ‘cause that’s my job! Fraud! Now you punished for the rest of the night! Wastin' my time playin' checkers… I was tryna play Chess tonight! That’s my other son We’ll get to that, and another one Look like a percussionist, wit’ two sticks and a double drum You want trouble? I’m troublesome! I’ll let it pop in his mouth when I air rounds like bubble gum Act like you men never bleed You’ll get hit wit’ a hollow Hollow get hit wit’ a K too: that’s synthetic weed You can send medics, please! I wait ‘til a train comin’, you get tied to the tracks like synthetic weave Nah… check out the plot when I go schemin’! Claude Banks, Ray Gibson: you’ll lose your life for no reason Meaning? The can gripped tight You say the wrong gun line, I’ll fuck up ya life That’s somethin’ that you can’t get right Nah, FUCK the back-and-forth, I ain’t playin’ your game Gun Bar King, stop takin’ my name and makin’ it lame You plan on takin’ my chain? For your life I’ll make the exchange I’m in the field with a Tom and 12 on me like a Patriots game This nigga said I don’t got bars… fuck what this clown think! The pound put Rum on ice: watered-down drink I ain’t an alcoholic, I don’t drink the most A couple Glocks get Rum double shot when I raise the toast That's a great approach Damn, this a real slaughter .50 clip , you in some shit, man I just feel for ya I'll make this shit a movie, the cannon'll peel on ya Kill your whole house and call that "Am-Nittyville Horror" That's different! Roc fire, you touch it and burn, Nitty Lately I been playin' with lasers, the inf a turn Nitty I kill niggas in this building and this your turn Nitty You sleep on me, and you gon' end up sleepin' for eternity I can get you murked for the bills with the blue strips I know [?] that'll make a movie out him for a few scripts True shit, you won't have a Thanksgiving, I'll get rid of it You come home, open your oven and find your kid in it nigga Your mother don't love me, she just love Daddy dick Stay in your own bag and stop sneakin' in Daddy shit Now all of a sudden you want this gun bar wave heavy But you a crip nigga with punches, you one of Magic's tricks But what broke my heart and had to make me sad I had to cut his mother off, that bitch had to make me mad That paternity test came in though, I actually am glad 'Cause it said "Roc, you are not the father, B Magic is his dad." That means I'm your step pops I still give your mama backshots And I hope you find that porno me and her made on your laptop I dare him want a fight, it'll be a burial tonight Nitty, you die on Ave: you like Harold at the light Tried to tell him that this ain't what he want from me Battle rap is not a job to me, this shit is fun to me Fuck a scheme, angle, or punch… and fuck Rum Nitty! A gun is the only thing to get the job done for me [Round 2: Rum Nitty] They'll be reminiscin' over you since you wanna compete, Roc You try to keep up We hear the struggle in your bars like you T-Top We keep chops He try runnin' out the room when the heat cock – bah! This bitch'll hit you throught the wall and lay you in a sheet Roc Please stop We takin' it back to when niggas have to rap No antics Smack And that gun line back to back shit, I mastered that You got guns in half your raps, but never had the gat At 17, I had two 'cause I had to, nigga that's a fact You and Surf get half the strap, ratchet clap It ring and put a Title in the sky: that's a ladder match This my style, why would I steal Roc's? Nigga stop it Soon as you say I copy, machines come out: that's a Xerox Mook hit me up and said he respect my grind, so how I'm not live When even your bossman's bossman got me in his top 5? They say fuckin' wit you I'ma get taught a lesson 'Cause all I got is bars and he's wild aggressive I'm cool, calm, collective And I do not respect you You get outta pocket Roc, get the pocket rocket, after I pocket check you [Fight almost breaks out] You told Calicoe you "not Pat Stay" and he'll get shot for doin' it …But he didn't get shot for doin' it You pussy, shoulda got extorted You carbon copy, my carbon probly got a couple bodies on it My nigga Rich brought a [?] It's from Mexico, so if you wanna trip, then let Rocky point it Blaoh! But you the nigga with the big cans I don't believe nothin' this bitch said How Surf help you with your shit, fam? I mean you gone need a ghost assistin' with a Roc like The 6th Man If this jam, head go over the fishing tank, you get pushed in I'ma hold you down 'til you die, I'm a good friend Then show up at that funeral service Set the casket on fire – K-Shine: I leave that whole funeral burnin' But everything out your mouth is "chopper that", "chopper this" nigga 'Til I run down on you like "Where that chopper at?" lil' bitch nigga! You lost to Surf and Magic, now to this nigga That's why Roc ain't got the K, he's not a Crip killer You done partner, I should unbox ya You light with the punch I throw a lighter in the palm and make the punch harder I get to spazzin' on cousin This a motherfuckin' bag, you better have somethin' bad you wrote for me Smoke you fast as 420 Clip out the nickel look like a panhandle I can give you what you askin' for, money But you rap about all these straps and never got caught with it My first gun charge was deadly misconduct with a concealed weapon, I was poppin' shit That's not an acomplishment But if you out here shootin' like he say he doin' You gone catch a charge, that's obvious With these I'm dead nice, get your head iced The situation can get outta Roc's hand I don't gotta put on a red light But this bitch'll throw lead The kick like a [?], I make you eat the sub, quick as a Conehead Your face get blown in They can't explain what happened to Roc, like Stonehenge And you don't even keep a gun You got these fans thinkin' you a live nigga like a [?] I'll light Roc like a fiend tryna treat his lungs Say I ain't had substance, you just saw me smokin' a legal one Real shit, nigga can't keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I'll do the job, you decide, kill yourself! [Round 3: Tay Roc] (Not gone touch you neither) Real shit Are you either a fiend or a fan? This nigga be hitting Smack like "Yo, yo if you can give me Roc I, I, I got these cheeseburgers maaan..." You had on fake Jordans last battle (Those real but the last ones was fake) You could see the nigga lost How you ain't know they was fake The Jordan logo looked like Jesus on the cross (Shout out to Ill Will though cause he helped me think of this) He think he is your gunner Smack I ain't the weaker person You like him cause he do everything Roc do, he just a cheaper version Nah nah, he think he is your gunner Smack Cause he went from Ave straight to Clips But it's NOME 6, damn near sold out, he battling me and you barely paid him shit But he think he is your gunner Smack I've been here since a teenager You had me out in Detroit turning dirty money into clean paper (Qleen Paper) He think he is your gunner Smack You think you me? Go do a battle at UDubb I bet you ain't coming back (Facts, facts, facts) You won't accomplish as much in the game as I did I'm good with gas, but don't really need it, I'm the hybrid We in New York So it's only right I take my kid to the Bronx And let my son off a high bridge Ay, I had to work out on my own when I bought this I wasn't sightseeing but the kick back tore a wrist (tourist) You know how a kickback tourist be sightseeing You don't have of the shit you might be in You gone have a hard time at night sleeping When I'm masked up, broad daylight, you in that same trouble that Mike P in Your bitches mouth, I might pee in We ain't at all homies That disrespectful style from Ars, kinda rubbed off on me Fuck you, and everything you represent I'll T Rum and pee on him and make him the next president Spell it out, T Rum, P That's Trump! Nigga, I'm hella sick The weapon spit Your temperature drop like the weather switched Son wait That was dumb straight But back shot, bullet steam out his chest the block smelling like rubber cake Run in his house with a bunch of rope and duck tape With the barrel of the 12-gauge your bitch get butt raped Fuck face! Your niggas gone flair a lot of candles Trust me I got a graveyard somewhere I can [?] Control your eyes Watch how you stare I can blam you Drum on a 9 looking like a air hockey handle Remember I said "50 clip, you in some shit" Well this a drum Rum don't get caught in the middle of this instrument You ain't even catch what I said That was magnificent Spell it out, the word "Rum" is in the middle of "instrument" Niggas know where Tay Roc is from Innocent bystanders hit when Tay got the gun Everybody die, that day gotta come You won't make it to Christmas when something slip in your egg noggin Rum (Egg noggin Rum, Egg nog and Rum) Come at the Cave like you so [?] Then dome shot it Or stomped out in a bunch of Jordans and foam 'posits Act like you do when you don't got it You gone end up in a wheelchair with that thing in your neck sounding robotic Who in here seen that movie Bad Santa? Nigga I know you heard of that Well I let it peel, Sig' smoke faster than Bernie Mac I'll murk a cat Your neck get cut soon as you turn your back Meaning, I'll give your jugular knives, look like a circus act (Juggle knives, circus) Why you trapping a mouse? You disrespect me, quickest way to get you smacked in the mouth You a King Of The Dot nigga, fuck are you rapping about? Over here trying to fit in, like Blac Chyna in the Kardashian house, nigga Fuck outta here Ay, call for back up, I hope none of them come If they do, the crime scene gone be a wonderful one Cops pull me over like "Sir, the fuck have you done?" I got Nitty tied in the trunk, I'm smuggling Rum You gone beat me? Still niggas lyin'? Tell 'em like I told the other, I don't feel niggas rhymes Who he foolin' with them steel grippin' lines? Tell him, fuckin' with me he'll get smacked, we on real nigga time [Round 3: Rum Nitty] Yo, now I can punch back to back, back to back We all know I'm capable too But before I get back into that You got some explaining to do Now I swear to God Ms. Hustle told me You was out here fuckin' with a tranny she knew And I want y'all to ask her too Said that they 3 wayed you, while her and Dan Bars was at the booth So he know too Swear to God that ain't true (*Tay Roc*: swear to God) Was those lies my nigga? You got proof? Was it a different Roc? Was it you? So that D Nanny wasn't DNA in NY God, you was out here fuckin' on a tranny, you on a DL, nigga you lied Why? Alright, I'ma stop PP But I'm willing to bet $50 with a grant on it, that your favourite wrestler was Rikishi You sweet, these niggas marks We up close and personal wit it, ain't no squeezing out the car 12-inch tactical blade reach into your heart He sleep, with a knife on his chest like Deebo in the yard I don't think these niggas smart Smack, why we had to wait for the 20th for me to burn shots Why not the 1st or the 15th? Those are the best days to serve Roc This bird pop I don't think cuz want it I shoot your mug Frank Lucas rug: what I'll pack a have your blood on it You want problems, make a choice Top shotta Get your top shot up You hear that [?] makin' noise I brought the chopper for your boy And I'm sharp with the hands, you wouldn't understand but Roc a (Barack Obama) get the point I let a gun blow You don't even gun toat Straps everywhere, turn this bitch into a gun show Both hands on a gun though I'm in the gas station, what you think I put ten on pump for? You want smoke? I have shooters invadin' yo spot Paid killers, cause you know it's a game when you put paper on Roc Nigga stop It's like you joined the Dots yet They not pushing your progress No Total Slaughter, or BET, they not letting you Shine yet You see how he got left I mean how they expect Roc to cook when he don't get his piece of the pie Rex? Why flex? And your bitch ass brother cannot be yo nigga Why is he letting you leave the house with them dumb ass writtens I know he heard you fuckin' up while you spittin' Misspelling, putting wrong presidents on the .50 You don't think smart You said some shit like your whip a look like it hit a deer, but that's just my DE and AR And now it sounds fire if you don't understand the shit Til you think about it, catch the shit and realise you gassed it, quit Cause that's his trick Then he mastered it I can't believe half the shit you say fam I mean you's about as dumb as a cavem- Damn It's been enough running, I brought the duck tape Hell, you get amped with these two 12's, it'll have me making Trump space The gun raise, you gotta zigzag Don't run straight I shot it through a duffel bag I ain't even drop a slug case You never beat a gun case [?] I take the .40 out the box, and beat you with the gun case Gun play, shit sound like a drum base Baoh! That's how I roll up Roc with something loud: the blunt laced Shit is over, think not Biggie mama on Notorious: I can trash you with a throwaway Roc Nigga stop All that gun talk'll make me dump mine off And you'll fuck around and lose your life over a gun line boss Real talk, nigga you can't keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I'll do the job, you decide Kill yourself
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