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Correct T-Rex Vs. Reed Dollaz Lyrics
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Correct T-Rex Vs. Reed Dollaz
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[Round 1: T-Rex] (*T-Rex chooses to go before the coin flip*) Grown Man Bars is somethin’ y’all gotta deal with! It don’t matter how many of these punchlines he just said It ain’t gon’ equal up (to this REAL SHIT!) Hold on, what y’all thought he was just gon’ come here and beat me? Wit’ them slow punches, and them weak knees? Ayo, Floyd, he gon’ die in the ring like Apollo ‘Cause all I can think about is Creed when I see (C) Reed I came here to fuck him up! Left, right, uppercut! ‘Nother punch, ‘nother punch, start it off wit’ a sucker-punch Since Floyd here, he should read where that next punch comin’ from! But y’all thought he was gon’ beat me, right? I was gon’ say some recycled shit, and make this look easy, right? But it’s not gon’ be an easy night! You’ll think I came with Miranda’s, the way I’mma give Reed (read) these rights! Reed think I’m fuckin’ playin’! ‘Til he paralyzed from the neck down, and can’t move his fuckin’ hands The nurses don’t even like him, they don’t want him there And the doctor asking him shit like...”Blink twice if you understand!” The nigga wit’ the loudest mouth, he gettin’ shot without a doubt No referee: when we at him, only God can count you out Hashtag: when I catch him, I’mma pound ‘em out Muzzle on the gun! I can’t, Reed (read): I’m tryna sound ‘em out! Are y’all serious!? I can’t find no good in you With a name like Reed (read), all I can think about is bookin’ you! Your man ya co-defendant, so he gon’ get a bullet, too I book marks: I can be right back to get to you You want raw, partna? I’m a four-popper Promise he gon’ hit the wall like a doorstop I hit him up private like a call blocker I’m Richie Rich: that mean I’m comin’ for your dog, Dolla (Dollar)! Y'all serious!? Y'ALL SERIOUS!? I'm talkin' hella choppers They gon' need helicopters That's whoever thinkin' Reed (read) live like a teleprompter! That .50 givin’ the shots, but it ain’t Effen Vodka So many slugs, when he die, he gon’ need a Heaven doctor! I’m talkin’ head dot him Walk up on him, red shot him Code word was “Louis Vuitton”: that mean they read ‘bout him! (red bottom) Reed think I’m playin’ - I’m not! He gon’ be the second rapper to die in Vegas since ’Pac! Y’all scared to say that, I’m not I just snuffed a nigga the other day Blindsided, like a car comin’ up the block the other way It’s like Lebron chasin’ him on the fast break: you’ll get your block shot I mean, it’s a difference between gettin’ shot...and gettin’ shot shot! Echo on that thang, so when I shoot, you’ll hear, “Shot shot…” Me, I use the Miller in a second like a stopwatch I’ll get his whole block chalked like hopscotch! I’m top-notch, I got the guns the niggas guardin’ Barack got! I shoot the .40 fast like it’s on a stopwatch! Just know this toaster ain’t warmin’ up Pop-Tarts! Don’t nobody wanna hear about no plugs that he do not got When his connect is through another nigga: he like a HOTSPOT! I’m givin’ Reed (read) straight lines: it’s like my heart stopped That mean I’m dead nice If Reed end up dead, nice! But I did it so smooth that he think I’m Greg Nice! I’m buggin’ off top like head lice! I’ll have his bean leakin’ on his red rice! Since Mayweather is here, lemme mention some different shit He wanna play on social media like Curtis, so I’mma make sure this .50 sent (50 Cent)! Easy! THIS NIGGA DEAD! FUCK is y’all niggas talkin’ ‘bout!? FUCK is wrong wit’ y’all niggas!? [Round 1: Reed Dollaz] I told myself if I came back, I was gon’ make this shit legendary Mayweather and Ricky Hatton, my nigga: I’m talkin’ extra scary Whoever jump in front of this chopper gon’ be hit tragic They gon’ have to find a pic off his ‘Gram, closin’ the casket! Rex versus Reed: this gon’ be the Battle of the Night Tre pound, long pipe: make him battle for his life! Hold up, hold up [Rex] I said that to K-Shine [Reed] T-Rex and Reed Dollaz: this gon’ be the Battle of the Night Tre pound, long pipe: make him battle for his life! Upstream on razor blades, make him paddle through the spikes Gettin’ robbed in your own hood: niggas grabbin’ on your ice! And I fuck with Harlem niggas, but you? You ain’t like that You the type to let niggas press you, then stretch you You won’t fight back But if a nigga throw shots on the ‘Gram, you wanna type back Now we on him, got me slidin’ through Harlem like, “Where this dyke at!?” If I drop a 50-clip on your block, know I’ll be right back I’m tryna dot every eye I see, on contact That four pound nasty, but the gauge will do him dirty, though Or I could put this TEC (Tacch’) on his chest like Sergio! That go for you and that shit on your ear I know you heard me, bro! I know all the hittas in Harlem, and you ain’t sturdy, though I’ll have my Bronx shooter spill yo’ shit like hot spaghetti He’ll pop you on Lennox Ave, dump the body on Donizetti [Rex] That ain’t no avenue, that ain’t no avenue [Reed] Beasley asked to let this Pit off the leash, like I ain’t ready Rex wise, they just be gassin’ him up: this guy’s a Getty! That MAC-10 be under my wing, yeah, that’s my boo thing Hoodie on, or let it swing from the neck on a shoestring Move solo, 32 in the clip like it’s Wu-Tang Niggas better pick a new lane Bombin’ shit like Hussein This nigga eatin’ ass on camera? You makin’ sex tapes? [Rex] Why not? [Reed] Now every time I look at your face, I know your breath stink Nigga, you a bitch in my eyes, fuck what the rest think This ain’t Summer Madness 7 - it’s Heaven! You signed your death date! I ain’t Casanova, my nigga: won’t punch your teeth out I’m layin’ in the trash wit’ a mask, I got that heat out Soon as you turn the car off, open the door, feet out .223s get to crackin’ the glass: I’ll knock a seat out! Hold up, hold up... I ain’t come to play wit’ you! The docs said he won’t make it through Fat sloppy nigga! What bitch wanna lay wit’ you!? Can’t say it, fuck nigga, I could get you murked in a day or two But these hittas get the drop in an hour, and on they way in two Nigga, this is Philly, we really be with the dumb shit Two shooters worse than 20 bitch niggas Fuck who you run get! The 12-gauge shotty, the barrel look like a musket Twin Glock 23s: that’s a band…with the drum set! I grab the blam’ Calm him down if that’s your man Chopper come from Pakistan Pulled up, then the bastard ran Tried to hit his back, but God was wit’ him ‘cause the ratchet jammed Flagged the hand - my youngun got a- Woo! Hold up, hold up… Let me work! Let me work! Listen! Listen, hold up! Listen, listen… I said, I grab the blam’ Calm him down if that’s your man Chopper come from Pakistan Pulled up, then the bastard ran Tried to hit his back, but God was wit’ him ‘cause the ratchet jammed Flagged the hand - my youngun got him fitted for a suit like Dapper Dan! Nigga, this is Philly, we really be wit’ the shits In yo’ city the next day: I’m Chief Keef wit’ the trips Had my shooter get the drop, he gon’ pop you when you slip Talkin’ ‘bout you be in Philly...you Tekashi wit’ the tricks! Real niggas will drop that location, from that iPhone But you just wanna rap, nobody really wanna die, holmes My killas? Next-level: they watchin’ cribs on spy drones! FN wit’ the silencer, the muzzle out the high tones! How many times I gotta prove to these niggas that I’m the God? So when they spit, it’s not an equal amount like you been robbed They study me right from the dojo: nigga Mr. Miyag’ Every time they try to kick that shit, it’s a facade Assault rifle on a tripod, cock it and spin the room Act like we Uber: when you book that ride, I send a goon Mini Draco wit’ the wood all on it, the mini-broom That’s a rage up in Harlem directed by Benny Boom! Nigga! Time! Let’s get it! [Round 2: T-Rex] Grown Man Bars is somethin’ he gotta deal with It don’t matter how many of them Philly fabricated lines he just said It ain’t gon’ equal up to this real shit Ayo, my shooters got all types of apps So when the body drop, I don’t even gotta wait now That’s the way you lay a nigga straight down His family thought he got hit by a car, they yellin’, “Stay down!” See, Reed remind me of a nigga that always say this, that, and the third He sound like one of them crackhead niggas that wanna borrow shit Like, “I ain’t got it now, but I’ll give you this back on the 3rd” No change on in this battle, I spent that on a bird 112th Street shit: this my gift back to the curb! If it ever was beef, it’s whatever it be Just no Instagram beefin’, no evidence, please I taught lessons - ask Math - this lesson for Reed This the truth, no lie: I’ll bury (library) you, Reed (read)! See, that extendo...shit, it really extend, though Longer than the Duck Hunt wire on the Nintendo! So go ‘head, make a move You can go ‘head and choose a move Long as it ain’t a stupid move It’s drama, me and my niggas ride together: we like Uber Pool! Stadium pics, give him a dome shot Chrome drop, slugs help me see him from fo’ blocks Now we outta service, sorta like when the phone drop He on Google Chrome They gotta Google the chrome I got! They said, “Reed, man, what happened to him?” He was talkin’ greasy to Rex, and man, whatever happened, shit just happened to him Now he don’t even understand shit when you rappin’ to him You actually gotta put a beat on, and try to rap it to him! Reed is okay, but it ain’t no passion in him I’ll have his soul floatin’ away: you’ll think Aladdin took him! That’s the shit that happened to him They said, “Is this the same guy that’s running around talkin’ ‘bout his shit explodin’?” But once that clip explodin’, it’s gon’ be a different person Word to Franky, right in Reed mouth is where my grippa goin’ It’s just you got Rex on that SMACK stage Just know that MAC swing, like Beanie’s fighting on backstage It’s the same dude that was battlin’ wit’ Meek Mill and them I don’t know what he did to him... But every time I land (island), he tryna get under Gill’ again (Gilligan) “Rex, what you gave him?” Two guns I gave him: the .38 and 9 “How many slugs you gave him?” Eight or nine Put the hammer in his mouth, they thought he ate the 9! They said I might not come home ‘til I’m 89! They told me, “Rex, take your time. Don’t just take some time It ain’t gon’ be a fast case - you gotta take some time” I’m a one-man army, I’m on Taken time When your charges that big, you gotta keep faith alive! This nigga mad sweet, and he know I pack heat Wonderin’ who gon’ give his daughter that “murdered-her-dad” speech I shoot the maggy like I’m an athlete I was steppin’ on so much work, I got bad feet! Impact, it’ll flip him through the backseat “He go to jail, and he’ll sing like Blackstreet Me? Nah, that’s just bat-sheet Remind me of Cassie Take the nigga to the backseat, and she get-” Hell with that! Keepin’ it real, ain’t no time for the nonsense Them Llamas was barkin’, died in a coffin Doctors can’t save him, promised they lost him I’m rich off that powder: I’m Johnson & Johnson! See, I’m leavin’ wit’ this nigga head! He know what it is already…(This nigga dead!) [Round 2: Reed Dollaz] Rex ain’t ‘bout that action, he fraudin’ Like, who he foolin’, yo? I’ll shoot the K ‘til it overheat on me, like when the coolant low [Rex] What’s that mean? What’s that mean? [Reed] Or catch me out in Cali wit’ Bloods, real niggas boulin’, though When I was too raw for the streets, you was a student though! Head I.C.E killed you! K-Shine (killed you!) Murda Mook (killed you), and Murda Mook built you! And he even stopped fuckin’ wit’chu when he seen the real you Only fuck niggas that live behind they computers say they feel you But today I gotta kill you The carbon got a nice stock Is it me, or do this nigga look like everybody’s dyke aunt? I aim, take the right shots, chase him down a tight block Detectives found 32 cases knocked out his night socks! Nigga walkin’ to the light, I’ll make the sky open! The fear of God, he gon’ die wit’ his eyes open I’m in the trap, I’m by the stove, I got a pie smokin’ I had them smokers lockjaws and they eyes bulgin’! You on the ‘Gram gettin’ pedicures Me? I’m having metal wars Chip up on that shoulder ‘til I shoot you in that head of yours On sight, I wanted to smack you, so this SMACK stage was better for us Now your mama ain’t gotta pick out a casket and a better florist You ain’t really wildin’, you a tourist Even if it’s home-court advantage, you gon’ forfeit I can’t take another round of listenin’ to that bullshit How you let it bang, and on gang, you won’t pull shit? Nigga, hold up, wait a minute! Y’all thought I was finished!? Chopper hit the back, and knock the trunk up out an engine! (*Crowd starts cheering*) [Reed] Hold up! Hold up! Let me work, let me work! Listen! [Rex] Ain’t that Meek!? [Reed] I said, hold up, wait a minute! Y’all thought I was finished!? Chopper hit the back, and knock the trunk up out an engine! Pussies not allowed, so get the fuck up off the premise! Can’t identify the body: only records by the dentist! He the type of nigga talk heavy shit, but don’t really want this smoke I’m the type of nigga be at your door wit’ a sawed-off and a Colt Let ‘em all off, blow your balls off, then I hauls off in the boat! Hit the highway, get the ratchet off me, shake the law off, I’m the GOAT, nigga! A nightmare! When you look, I’ll be right there! [Rex] I said that [Reed] Soon as you peep, mask off, I’mma tweak .50-cal hit his mug, see the gums through his cheek! All my life, they tried to say I’m the underdog I’m done wit’ y’all Since 2002, influenced damn near every one of y’all! Hawk you, put the blade in ya neck, then hit the lung & all Then finish him, my bitch keep the snub up in her Wonderbra! Swing past daycares, get daughters and sons involved Nieces and nephews and the dog, man, I want ‘em all Pussy keep callin’ a foul, he ain’t come to ball It’s 4th down, with 20 to go: I’ll make him punt it off! Then run it back My two linebackers? You don’t want none of that Push ya line back, fuck up the quarterback, we run the sack The drum on that You the wide receive, you won’t miss none of that The thunder clap Hollow heads hit him, remove stomach fat! Your life thin Pussy, we done ran down the- We Super Bowl Champions of the World! They know we might win! Smooth killer, bitch, I’m Jean-Claude Van Damme Shoot the AK on a handstand Hit the Grand Champ wit’ a Grand Slam! This a V-12 vers’ a Grand Am! I’ve been live since American Bandstand! Dawg, you my son, you a damn Stan! I’ll pistol-whip ya face until it break and my hand cramp! Home invasions, better hide yo’ family Kill ya daughter - they’ll never find that lil’ bitch like JonBenet Ramsey! High off the Xannies, a demon when I’m thrivin’ off the war He’ll be dead before his body hit the floor Fuckin’ goofy! The type to wear a cross with a kufi! Pull up on him, all you seen was the arm and a Uzi! I’m a real one, you a rapper: don’t ever fuckin’ confuse me! I’m the type play your bodega, break 100 on a loosie If this real versus fake, your bar don’t amuse me Niggas put hands and feet on you, dawg! And I ain’t actin’ invincible like it can’t happen to me But on the real, it’s the principal, dawg! They touch me? Kim Jong, missiles go off, hittin’ ‘em all Call of Duty, shootin’ from the hip wit’ the saw! Pickin’ ‘em off, FMJs could shoot a brick at a wall! Rex, this is your call! It’s Death: embrace that shit! It’s in the air, you can smell it and taste that shit! I’m in your face, but on the real, why you make that fist? You wanna box? A Hollow class will make your weight class shift! Time, let’s get it, man [Round 3: T-Rex] Ayo, I’m a different breed than these other niggas He was made from a cloth that’s called “sucka denim” He only front on niggas that’s more of a sucka than him! Look at his crew: he got a bunch of other suckas wit’ him! Body shot, I got fancy wit’ it Surgery, made it look like Dr. Miami did it! Nah, them niggas from the family did it Either Ronny, Robert, Shawn, or Randy did it - my brothers Shotty made it look like I was walkin’ on crutches Drumsticks, automatic KFC duckage Play wit’ a Sullivan, get ya mother split Little niggas send him to Heaven just for the hell of it He was watchin’ his back, shooters was ahead of him Look like the coroner tryna sew a new head on him Crazy thing is, Reed thought his vest was protectin’ him Now surgery doin’ research on what’s left of him He just died, his girl fuckin’ already She just DM’d me somethin’ already I’mma fuck her: she ready All I gave her was some nut n’ spaghetti Head’s noodles, had me nuttin’ spaghetti! I’mma fuck her, she petty These men of mines? They don’t minimize These men of mines, they loyal, they never pick a side They got guns like rentals: welcome to Enterprise Get me shot, and I’ll get you sent to God Heart-to-heart, my nigga, soul-to-soul Tookie gave his life, and never told a soul You know your role, you get murdered, nigga don’t know your role Exit so big, the doctors couldn’t close the hole They gave Mikko natural life with no parole...free Mikko Now I’mma get the witness: yeah, we know who told Y’all know a couple Bloods that need big homies? Fuck wit’ them, homie, but they know I’m Crip, homie See, that chopper like I’m walkin’ with a stick on me I’mma go and shoot, let Nemo set the pick for me It’s the Mobb, I never change codes Shoot his block up, and I come back after I change clothes Army guns, we can’t even name those We just start shootin’ niggas ‘til the pain goes! Ask about me, I’m nice, nigga Wearin’ them jewels, welcome home to ice, nigga Walkin’ through Philly with shooters goin’ to price niggas! Have bullets all in your head like lice, nigga This for rap, not for your hook or your bounce That swag’ll get you dragged and hooked in the mouth We got beef like a tenement house I got weed like loose change: all the time, quarters slip in the couch You nice, though, but I ice-roll, it’ll make your ice go I hope yo’ jeweler’s insured ya where I go I’ll get his block cleared out, like lipo .40 shootin’ fast like the shells on Nitro! I’m leavin’ with this nigga head! Y’all already know my slogan…(This nigga dead!) [Round 3: Reed Dollaz] I need quiet, though Real talk, I wanna talk to him I said…allow me to re-introduce myself: my name is Reed For all the niggas who be actin’ like they don’t know Realadel’, I’m from that city where they don’t go A SMACK battle out in Philly? That’s a no-show So they booked me for that market to help they promo I mean, it’s only right we get a slice of the pie, right? Nah - Smack took millions, and gave us crumbs Mufasa-ass nigga deserve a slice on the eye! And I know you never fuck wit’ me, but luckily You always kept it cordial, ‘cause Philly get ugly Since ‘9-8, ‘9-9, been buzzin’ like a bumblebee It’s time we pushed the card from the back, so the front can see They say the URL started from the dust, nigga… That was us back and forth on that bus, nigga We got you to Hollywood, Smack! Now you actin’ weird... We was Sunni’d up, you ain’t even have the beard! Being great made him treat me worse But it’s a reason I ain’t have to do a PG first... Reed Dollaz, I’m still alive, no Murda discussion T-Rex only alive ‘cause Murda his cousin... I got a long and outrageous clip That’ll have you seein’ stars everywhere: that’s a Vegas strip! I’m built, strapped wit’ TECs Don’t play when the Lion roar ‘Cause you built like a T. Rex don’t make you a dinosaur! I’m the Gingerbread Man, you a small muffin Catch him at the red light, now we all bustin’ You goin’ out like ‘Pac, fuck if the law rushin’ (Why!?) You know these Las Vegas cops don’t solve nothin’! I’ll put the Beam on your chest (Chess), then skate So either get that Cake Up, or wake up in SM8! They gon’ have me on TMZ for killin’ a star… Don’t get shot for thinkin’ that it’s still in the car! No cap, though All my Vegas hittas in the back, though And this they city, so you know that they got them straps, though Now act, ho I’ll leave the venue, and come back, though The General, Leader of Nations: Fidel Castro! The Don Dada Who want rock? No man hotter Fly nigga, ride around wit’ the stick: that’s Harry Potter Grand Champ? Got me up in the ring with a Chihuahua! A red nose, you can tell that’s my breed by the saliva Ten years for this face-off, nigga! But I was patient… So fuck a rap battle! You owe me a conversation! Grown Man Bars: that’s somethin’ he gotta deal wit’ No matter how many times he scream “Dot Mob”, they the same people he don’t keep it real wit’! I shine, a brick on the wrist: that’s what I chill wit’ Your Shine? A nigga you dissed, and went to chill wit’ They tried to trap me, I trailed niggas I’m back in the league You just happy to tell niggas that you battlin’ Reed! When I rap, I speak facts, do this shit wit’ a passion You gotta…throw down your hat just to get a reaction! I’m at your fuckin’ front door, like I’m handlin’ mail Big stick in the yard, like the land for sale Well, your wife played you, that’s what the game taught her Now you stuck waitin’ on your baby like Dwayne Carter Play it smarter, or them choppers will spark The car creep up, like I was tryin’ to find where to park Throw the hoodie on, waitin’ for the drama to start Charlamagne: you’ll see my face comin’ out of the DARK! I be lettin’ that K rock from top to south You still waitin’ on Tay Roc to shout you out! Fuck around, and have ten niggas inside your house You the one that put yo’ hand in the Lion’s mouth General, nigga
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