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Correct Cortez Vs. O-Red Lyrics
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Correct Cortez Vs. O-Red
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[Round 1: Cortez] The stream went out for two hours, you see how that shit play out? This nigga SMACK tryna vault my shit before it came out! Everybody here, it’s Volume 2, right? I need y’all to take out ya notes, we at the trap house again I moved weight out da do', I weighed out the dope But this time it’s that block work, straight outta boat First I bagged Twork and now I gotta break down an O So who we got? Somebody to Get fly, on cam? I’m gripping shit with both hands bitch it look like I brang out a drone You look like you doing bad & you ain’t gotta phone I’m from where they can’t post bail, so they take out them loans And hold da white down harder than Raven-Symone Whats up boy? Everybody out here flagging? I don’t know But True Colors gon get exposed Red and you a Tai Bo hoe We don’t measure on any scale, so how does this add up??? But over time it’s gon’ show You come up short... ohh, don’t nobody wanna eye ball O!!! What's up boy? You better ball up, call up for May Day, aye Cause we out here on them blocks and everyday they ain’t Act “Trippy ... RED” beefin' with the Trey Way/Wait Wait I’ll put the hood on red necks (next) like da KKK!!!! Who killin' shit, I'm swinging the pendulum, move militant I see it in your eyes Red! You innocent Got all these sports bars, yeah, he’s ignorant How you reppin' Jersey but make the league minimum? Nah don’t ignore that Red, see this is all facts Red Cigar smoke on Court/Cort'; it ain’t Auerbach, RED My respect! My top tier, I want it all back Red You a D League, 10 day contract Red! And ever since I did the salsa, chacha n bachata The ese’s in the jail been screaming "Viva La Rassa!" Papa, got me a chopper & it go "Rah Rah" Mira Pendejo, prieto... no me joda aqui en mi casa Oh Y’all want that Translation... So that’s what’s owed to the fans? Y'all should know I’m Puerto Rican, bitch I like to talk wit my hands! Big B’s, I make lunch, I hit his cheek the blade drawn We split screens, remain calm, bitch please Play dumb? We spray bombs; sixteen Raise one like teenage moms I’m talking log jams, over the border it get across fam' I’m insured to scheme over plates, it ain’t a car Scam!! Big eight, make no mistake, you see the arms fam'? Think Drake! You All Get Bucks, This Is Gods Plan!!! You mad motherfuckin’ fèo And yo life is a no go, O Plus you got exposed for kissing hoes after sucking off the bro’s Whoa that’s a no no, O! Manonono monono mononono..... Translation: WHEN IT COME TO BITCHES, YOU'RE A BOZO, O!!!!!! Look at me tho', I ain’t lackin’ Look at Red suited for a Thriller, but I ain’t jack it (jacket) Oh y'all hoping that O won? Already he down 0-1 The clip drawn, a hit of da bong, it rip his whole lung The Semi burst, cursed, the flame spark; hold one! It “crack heads”, first name, Lamar.... ODOM (O dumb) You’s a sucka, a child, hot air balloons That means one flame from this pump will lift him up to the clouds It’s funny how I air shit out, but it still leaves you under the ground It’s like Vegas when I spray shit, why? Cause all y’all gon catch one in da crowd And you the next man to lay... bae too Oh that was hard...you get it Mandalay Bay? Huh! That’s a bar Then crack a jack (Cracker Jack) at ya bae roof (Babe Ruth) No that’s a bar For candy wrappers, candy clappers, burst two Think Urkel, bitch Family Matters Don't get ya torso Kriss Kross til it look like you standing backwards Them bullets make U-turn...when they run through Red like ambulances So like I said I appreciate you reaching out But wait ‘til round 3 cause there’s some shit we gotta speak about! [Round 1: O-Red] O-Red vers' Yakman302 Smack what you be on? This a lose lose tell this faggot move along A lose lose for you I mean, you see I could snap and do you wrong Or choke every round and send you back where you belong My whole squad turn into Ford Choppers and the 4's Clip full of bad apples, we ridin' (rotten) to the Cor' I got my .30 cocked With the extended clip it's a 30 shot 30 .30 pop, then Cor' up like a dirty cop I told Smack, "Pay me and 'Tez can die tonight, son." For a check, I leave Cor' wrecked (correct): you got the right one Smack White, you know how I damage work Ernesto? Premature ejaculator: He couldn't even handle Twork But he asking for me, knowing that I'mma chalk him out You like that nigga that co-workers be talkin' bout Who want his last strike, but him and the boss be fallin' out In other words I'm the wrong one to be callin' out Drive by, I make a movie scene when the Uzi sing Put a round in a pussy, watch how you maneuvering (Nuva Ring) Out the Caddy V, if 'Tez junior where daddy be I let the [?] shots Nick Young-in' like Swaggy P Think you the target when I aim it and pull it, not at all It's for your son I wrote his name on the bullets I just cock it and have a flock of these spawn Clip loaded with bagels; That's a bunch of rounds with papi seed on it Between me and you, your mother is a whore She can cook, clean and suck a nugget through a straw I love me a young thot, but they got nothin' on that slaw That bitch handle the D like a Dunkin' Donuts door She nasty! What you ain't feeling it Aak? You don't like it when I brag about me hitting her box I don't give a fuck nigga get hot I'm lifting the Glock Hypothermia: I bet you core (Cor') temperature drop Shot poppin', you bust in your mother room, without knockin' This shot strapped for the cock blockin' That dike bitch who be wit him jump out of the side pocket I'm puttin' Ms Fit on a shirt like Hot Topics Shit'll get graphic Close range banging the clips Two grips breaking her shit If you got something to say to that bitch You better head to the mall after these torches melt her He don't get it? BAOW! Meet her by the Lord and tell her Murder Ave Gang? You niggas ain't killed shit You got one Ms Fit in ya clique and it's a bitch Ya homies? Soft, Cor': cable with the porn flicks China men ear, the pussies get lifted with long sticks Pull a nigga card quick, on some Yugi shit with the doolie disc Hooligan, known for the mac like Max Julien The toolie lift Motherfuck bein' dubious I'll clap a bull, 'matic pull Right at 'em, Cor'...fuck up his nucleus! I got this shit down to a science You standin' there tryin' to battle me like you can be anything but a casualty! Ain't no way in Hell this Latin out-rappin' me I spit savagely, Cortez can never rattle me That (*sniff*) all in my pen: I'm Zeke off of The Faculty! I even got aliens tweekin' out, I know you see the clout Aye Twork bro, I'll creep in this Puerto Rican house Reach in his pregnant bitch pussy, on that [?] snatch back now she a [?] that mean the feet is (fetus) out I caught Cor' on the back porch, he was sneakin' out I'll pull the heater out then point it right at his freakin' scalp Try to grab the strap BAOW BAOW That's for reachin' out After the third BAOW BAOW there ain't shit we gotta speak about Jersey [Round 2: Cortez] That rap was cute.... But fuck that bitch if I clap a few I’ll give him 11 to his back now let’s see what this MAC’ll do (McAdoo) This the round where I ain’t playing wit cha You and ya mans, casket to casket, they'll be laying witcha Cut the games I’ll lay hands and feet on Red, we playing Twister I catch Red wit his bitch, plot on they jewels I'm cockin’ the tool “Ayo Cor’ that’s his wifey!” Ayo Smack I don't give a fuck if that bitch move You know I’m poppin' her too I ain’t wanna Diss O bae (disobey), but hey That bitch best to follow the rules You gon die as usual Big drum, bangin' in concert I wave sticks like I do musicals One hits at his bitch like, “Psst....ma you beautiful” And it’ll suit (shoot) up Red like Piru funerals He can't breathe, Carlito style now you’s can’t leave I lick a (Liquor) cold shot, straight to the head...yeah it’s brain freeze I do dirt then change tee’s, for hood rats, my dame, grease So you respect this “side bitch” or my “main squeeze” I heard ya man Cal talking crazy, Smack that’s minor I know only doing it cause I’m lit and my raps finer But I dunno who sucking dick worse though, him or Blac Chyna And when it comes to Surf You can’t even mention his name to Smack tho Like you ain’t realize I got fat yo So why you keep feeding me snacks though??? You told me he "Lit” and I want “smoke” with anybody tryna roll up to back O (tobacco) Oh JC said that? That's great cause I got lines that go back to back O Here’s a Hollow for anybody in da back to back O Now that’s how you bring an Arsonal back to back, O!!! Yeah boy hookah bars, I blow in da mist Rounds cold (coal), so whoever want “smoke” get a “tip" I get em tossed in da air for acting all rowdy Pom poms and cheerleadin' but Smack, I’m the one that's catching a body! I draw on this crown, shots crop his top I’ll paint the streets wit Red, I’ll Basquiat ya block Boy the sofrito hijo, let da chef cook I’m from Murda Ave, but since i couldn’t Murda, Ave Then fuck it I’m giving Red Hooks! Volume 2 right, I told you Red, this ya best look You gotta push from the fans on court (Cort') you think you Westbrook But I’m da best out, head hunting BAOW I'm taking head counts So either check in or get checked out I’ll hit him with X amount, he’ll be X’d Out Malcolm X style Meaning he gon’ burn & then die (dye) when I let it fry on Red scalp This “Card, Key”, for small rooms and they just checked you in To Cort' (court) yeard So resort to the mess you in You spent Days Inn that cell? Cool, I’ll still get you sent, hit his Crowne and find Comfort pushing Red Roof in But let this ho tell (hotel) it, it’s gas, they fuelin' the engine I move wit' discretion, rude with aggression All cause I ain’t viewed as a legend Ruger my weapon Pow! Pow! With two in ya section Who got the app, Smack? Let’s see if he can Uber to heaven I don’t cringe cause you awful Boy it's not an issue to off you Cause everything spit from the orals fixin' to chalk you I spit shit vivid, ya image cynic, I can cripple & corpse you Then mission abort you We shouldn’t even speak cause God’s don’t mingle with mortals! What? I gotta break it down You don’t see O Red? I’m BORED! Don’t nobody be B.O-Red I'm hunting wit' heat, so quit the fronting to me O don’t hold no weight, that boy like the tare button to me So if you talking real sick, then I'm offing ya clique It’s multiple sclerosis bitch That means everywhere I go, I gotta walk with the sticks! So try it fast, he gon' die when the iron blast Then slide out da hood on da low, like a hoe tryna hide her past Shits real & I’m gon’ supply the tags and you gon' pay the price for that Man purse That means a long strap on the side with that MK its all Gucci Smack Now that’s how you design a (designer) bar And like I said, I appreciate you reachin' out But wait til round three, there's some shit we gotta speak about [Round 2: O-Red] In that first round I was dancin' on Cort': "Half Man Half Amazin" Second round you was fightin' back This cat was blazin' You was snappin' baby Usually you be rappin' basic Which one of y'all gave Cor' a line (Coraline) this bitch animated I expected basic Ernesto, you know the one who told John John "It's ironic this blind fuck ain't see this comin'" First of all, when you blind as fuck you don't see shit comin' That ain't irony So the bar type wack The irony is you havin' a smart ass mouth sayin' bars like that Now me on the other hand, I'm the type to say some sensible shit Like, big ass blade get ran across him Slice a Puerto Rican neck for the power, I [?] Or the lead pop one head shot from my can' will off him Leave a Latin man hat in (Manhattan) sections: Spanish Harlem Speakin' of Harlem, 'Tez? How the fuck you lose to 2 of them 4 times? You lost to 2 niggas 4 times? You a scrub [?] But I ain't tryna judge you Yankee, I let a pair a 9's and I'm airin' (Aaron) Judge you Or literally judge you When bullets from the judge shoot Out the chamber straight into Cort' (court): just like a judge do Fuck you You ain't even Supreme, you Municipal court Gilbert Arenas: I got pistols for Cort' (court) Beneficial with hella stripes I bring the whistle to Cort' Have bullets riddle through Cort' Or the blade splittin' you Cort' Ninja Turtles: I drop a slice in the middle of Cort' Fuck with me Razor blade from under the tongue quickly Get half of the G-Unit: Buck/50 Martin Luther King: my 9 violent That one blizzy Arizona nigga with hot rounds: Rum Nitty But speakin' of Rum Nitty: I tried to send a bitch to your room 'Tez Shorty decline she said you the worst lame She wouldn't let Cor' nail (Cornell) with Nitty first name A head shot turn that bird brain to a shirt stain But fuck you, let me talk to that Verb lame I saw that Jersey poll that you made bro In case you forgot, Ars was slumpin' you dirty You ran off stage in Detroit cause you was duckin' the 30 And after what Twork 'bout to do, you ain't fuckin' wit' Jersey Your Shine battle tell it all: you ain't got nothin' on jersey The last nigga you bodied was... You ass Cor' Same day that I killed Ill, he did you bad Cor' Biggest Latin NY rapper? You 'posed to murder guys How you got Pun intentions but couldn't push a Verb aside That's eight years ago right? OK but last year, last year, after you bodied that Prez rapper That L in front of ICE: head scratcher You coulda took that chain and went on a long run stupid You threw it, now it's a wrap for the chicken and cheese: Cor' done (Cordon) blew (bleu) it But this nigga is salty, look at him emotional He hatin' now, talkin' through my amazin' round That's how you take a clown and break him down Spanish nigga, flippin' off with the fists; he Vega now Don't talk through my rounds sir Where was I at now? But he thinkin' he got a chance of smokin' Red You sober 'Tez I saw your last battle, that Christian rapper was smokin' Tez I don't need to know why you front papi You know you're dead A. Ward fucked you up; Sergey Kovalev This new Glock will school a savage like Mr. Feeny The baddest 18 on the planet [?] Beam on it for your bitch, I could clap shit up or smack a cunt Black grip with the empanada like what you had for lunch Smack bro you already know if me and him scrappin' Change the "Red", my name to "Sama": I bend Latins (Bin Laden) O-Red/Osama; never mind, you act live I'll drag the vault all through the street like Fast 5 You really want this fade so act like it Hybrid boxer I'm half Mayweather and half Tyson Jab right him jackknife him and let the AC strike him Leave fragments all in an esé (essay) body that's bad writing I used to sleep with a 'volver under my pillow All days layin' up with the spin the John Woo way If y'all play I come to where y'all stay with a large K Fuck the parlay I'm leavin' everybody that Cor' adore (corridor) in the hallway Bodies on top of bodies I could do this shit all day You heard me? Jersey! [Round 3: Cortez] Man over there gassin' him He tryin' to hype some shit And now we know how you got ya name, cause you love to ride a (Ryda) dick Champion of the year? Yeah? That’s what y’all said right? And 10K was the set price Jay Blac, Tec 9 all behind him, he's the best, right? He beat Showoff, he had a classic wit Brizz, he’s dead nice! The best hype See Smack that’s why I get tight But it’s all Gucci, I'm only here to make green off of Red stripes They said you 1 and I was 5, is y'all peepin' the task? It's a flashback It's 2003 in the draft #1 Lebron James, the man, the attraction But you're painfully lacking and needed me Number 5 I’m D. Wade, bitch I made you a Champion This round it’s time I’m break down the facts with Red If it wasn’t for that bum ass belt and for what Champion said This battle wouldn’t even have happened Red The fuck y'all think? You really think Smack asked for Red? He on his 6ix9ine shit, that boy just started jacking Red! And speaking of 6ix9ine in his face is where lead’ll be drawn This ain’t the NBA young boy so let it be known A Lil' Pump if the tension is on I keep a clip, you best believe that XXX extension is on What you think? You Muhammad Ali, you the greatest? Smack it’s all a lie and that’s why I gotta snatch him of his title cause “The Champion” in his prime Be scared to go to war when the cash is (Cassius) on the line Wordplay Cassius, Ali, go to war Boy I’m making it Hell cause your name ain’t ringing a bell You ain’t gangsta, you ain’t ringing no shells So turning Muslim’s the only way you made a name for yourself Not me tho! The more they would hate, the more I was great I tightened my shit up and got the formula straight Me and you in the same boat? Hell no, we don't sorta relate I’m the biggest Latino in the history of battle rap and you're nothing more than #4 in your state Dead ass! And Twork bout to take that spot, you 'bout to be 5 my nigga Am I lying my nigga? He talk about tendinitis, scoliosis... (skull of yo sis) Twork that was fire my nigga Cause those the symptoms I gave him when I retired the nigga Fuck a vault! Respect was earnt I had to take that, blood from all the lead I done spilled You can’t erase that! Big T, Daylyt, ASAP Boy I’m talking brand new chilakaboo, who wanna face that (tat)? You hyping him now, I’ll catch him right in da crowd and start sniping him down My chrome like iPhones so back it up or I’ma put ya life in da clouds I see ya mans, gassin' you, he’ll get pressed with lead Fuck all them niggas I don’t wanna talk unless it’s bread They keep grillin' like him, he gon' get left for dead BAOW! He ain’t see the TECs (text) and now his thoughts got left on read/Red And let's talk about you versus Bigg K Cause there's somethin' I have to address Wait lemme pull up, Skrrt! (skirt) It killed/kilt me, you had on a dress Battling me bitch you best to have on a vest! Cause if I get Red boxed it won’t have an address Lead ring, dead ‘tings You ain’t no real champion, real champions, get rings Yeah I played on ICE and now the goals to give Red Wings I gotta new slogan bitch, so fuck you fakes, corny Just keep doing what you do & stay the fuck away from me It’s Brooklyn all day I keep it trill for that Lick a shot for PH! The real is back! [Round 3: O-Red] We ain't the same Ernesto I'm the type to look an op dead in his face while he attendin' a wake And sleep the nigga I ain't never been a diva nigga You? A Jordan 11 cat, patent leather black White top and ice bottom, I know your kind Cor' a sneaker nigga- you pussy You pussy...you pussy! But talk like you order hits You softer than Dora The Explorer, Madea daughter, Cor' a (Cora) bitch Type to shoot himself to prove to the fans he been pourin' clips Boss nigga? You lost nigga Check your coordinates, and it's battle rap got a problem...and we 'bout to get to the Cor' (core) of it 'Tez! You remind me of Shawn Brown with the rappin' duke You get on cam' and say more stupid shit than Battle Truth Example: in ya Tay Roc battle you told him you would beat him wit' the same damn gun you gave Math for Mook Then pose like it was the illest shit I wasn't feelin' it Told on you and your mans, told the fans to believe you real wit' it We call that dry snitchin' You get killed like that It's a code but you don't know cause you built like that You the type, get robbed and tell them niggas "Keep my work" Or get locked and tell the cops, "Whatchu need? I'll chirp." He ain't built for the can, he not Surf You prolly get more bitch behind bars than the T-Top verse Bitch! Bitch! Bitch! You the type to be doin' some shit to look cool wit' a clique I know a gangsta when I see one, and you is a bitch {slight choke} When I was out here in these streets, I was movin' with clips When you was out here in these streets, you had to move in wit' Clips Wait, wait, wait, wait, now I'm confused [Charlie Clips] Smack moved so they could see me too [O-Red] Now I'm confused, are y'all tellin' me, you went from Total Slaughter couch to Charlie couch? Well goddamn Mr. Top Tier Money You need some bread bro? Sub Zero after the finisher, hold ya head up BAOW! Now it's like I got evicted when the lead bust I had the whole sidewalk covered with all that Red stuff You don't want it wit' Red brah I know a shooter from Atlanta; home thug He'll let a clip bomb, whoever son call will die; Rick Grimes No words, he wit' the shit, I'll send them to your strip slime That rainbow wig on a Puerto Rican like 69 Two fours hit Cor' in the back Brent Grimes Oh I take a risk on a sub mission, no [?] line Deadbeat, he never saw the pop Turn a Florida cop to a football ref' when he scorch ya top The bullet I threw? Under review Cause they don't know if it's caught or not Y'all get it? They don't know if it's Cort' or not I torture ops, catch him out wit' a shorty on Pizza Day Swingin' a nine iron, no PGA Pistol imitating Chris Brown, meanin' it's singin' ya Breezy way Not this Puerto Rican princess; Stevie J DNA...as far as DNA...you next Smack set it, I got lead for him Let's see if St. John can weather this Red Storm I don't give a fuck how these clowns feelin' If you give O-D on the next Volume he'll die when these rounds peel (pill)- These rappers fishy, Smack usin' realer men to reel 'em in Flex, Murder Ave won't like when I push your ceilin' I give 'em six man, do you big nasty, I'm militant Know ya roll player, 'fore they be callers; Williamson No K's, just the pound, he get slayed, with a round Black hearse, with a 20 car train for a clown Think second Sunday in June before you lay in the ground Just another Puerto Rican Day (they) Parade through the town My squad will go to war wit' any chump We got more ratchets than DMX second verse on What They Really Want I'm talkin', Nina, Selena, Katrina, Sabrina About three Kims; Latoya and Tina Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita Champion Of The Year! Respect it nigga, I'm vicious Murder Ave, huh he just rep it nigga I did, there's a difference Look at him, he know he gettin' murked There was no other option I had to throw him in the dirt Second round was the eulogy, the third was the hearse But you got bodied in round one, murder in the first Jersey
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