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Correct Geechi Gotti Vs Stuey Netwon Lyrics
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Correct Geechi Gotti Vs Stuey Netwon
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[Round 1: Stuey Newton] Geechi: An indigenous melanoid who revolted against those who enslaved niggas Gotti: An Italian crime family that hate niggas So how we put 'em both together to describe the same nigga? And history, just repeats itself Meanin' this is me whoopin' yo' ass twice Cause this Geechi probably killed a Gotti in my past life How you rap nice when you bodied Danny, but you couldn't do that right? Cause somehow we still believe you God's son, nigga you black Christ But that's life So this round, to hell with substance I infer no (inferno) bodies You? Are Arturo Gotti cause you do swell with punches, tell me somethin' What if I catch ya queen and she slippin'? And I'm strapped with a ladder and beam on the Smith & When I'm seein' she's a victim let it squeeze 'til it's clickin' Yeah Gotti got bundles...but she never seen this extension I'm mean with the writtens And you probably the nicest outta ya family members Thinkin' ya bars is crack but ya hardly black like Grammy winners Understand me nigga? I mean, you might set up some nice punches but Jermain Taylor With the bow and arrow, we can see what you write (right) comin', the pipe dumpin' And go to the roof and the rifle is blastin' I named every shell (Shel) "Silverstein", see how I'm writin' this classic? That mean I put everything on it, when that sidewalk end I'm Light In (lighting) The Attic But I don't need a fifth to blaze him Cause I'm with the fadin' The fist? Obliterate him No words spoken, just hit the pavement Sidebar: I used to suffer from seizures I ain't had one since 2012 I feel amazin' So you should know I just just bite my tongue and get it shaking I got patience, but lately ain't the same I've been crazy and deranged, mania and insane Like, cock the 12 and your brains is on the gauge, it's gonna bring yo' baby mama pain To see her baby on the stage, she gonna be like, "Geechi Geechi": 'Lady Marmalade' Fuck you thought? Cause I'm from Washington I don't know what to do with a rope and a shotgun? Fuck you take me for? And a shoestring on an Uzi, I'm laced for war Back home, my niggas ain't got no common sense Buy a chain? They'll smoke you just to rock ya shit For a herringbone, it's like pheromones, they're drawn to get a body sent (scent) But you won't body shit Yet on FB they address me like I couldn't make Geechi bleed When a mission for a live kill turns to a staged suicide; Stevens, Steve Stuey a vet, and I'm suited for death, 'bout that murder business Flames to his nose, the only time I'm burning bridges You heard I'm wit' it Well that drum hold 50 and that bi- wait, wait Tell me I'm wrong But you told Hemi, "I'll snatch your heart out and pour codeine on it. Your pride is what I'm leanin' on." Now why the fuck....would you pour codeine on a nigga's heart after you rip it out? If you thought shit like that was gon' get you a Don Demarco The only person tryin' to rewind that plain (plane) part is Donnie Darko This is my shit, don't forget, you still a new jack I'm just bein' Frank from here on (heron) out; Blue Magic This dude average, I'll whip his head with the Desert, leave his tooth absent He gon' have to rap without no teeth, my .50 too Savage Leave his features, gone No I.D. when they reach in his pocket But they knew it was him, he's the only nigga walkin' around with weave in his pocket Time nigga [Round 1: Geechi Gotti] Nigga you'se a bitch! See I just had to give this dyke a reality check Blade to his face, then I'ma let it slide, like I ain't trippin' outta respect See, I respect yo' craft my nigga, I just hate how you rap All them overheads in ya setups, Mafia shit, send a bitch at him It'll be over head that he's setup Spit a bar we ain't never heard befo' so I can give you some props You got me feelin' like a bitch on the first night, I don't really wanna give you this box No matter how they hyped you in the buildin', on cam' them bars be weak as shit So this ass whoopin' gonna be like when you get shot, it ain't gon' hurt 'til you see this shit Now y'all see this shit? Versus a nigga that ain't nowhere near deadly .40 to his stomach, now Stuey got a beer belly Hold up, you might catch me, sneakin' wit' the ratchet It's like a DM, hit him up early with them texts (TECs), it's like a GM You see him? He finna get shot up, like a black party Oh you went to college, right? So you oughta be comfortable with a barrel on yo' head like a frat party Real shit, I don't give a fuck, I"m goin' to the block after this This event cool, but it ain't crackin' unless somebody gettin' shot after this Nigga this, got a hundred rounds in the clip You can pray all you want, bet it won't save him I let off 50, even missed a couple shots on purpose, I'm point shavin' Shave his top, that mean he get a bald head, he Danny Myers Headshot, and keep shootin' him in the head until he got them rounds stuck in his head like, "That shit was fire!" Listen liar, you not a shooter, you lookin' at one, that's somethin' you are not Who the fuck has Stuart shot? Nigga my guns stay cocked like the eyes on Stuart Scott Now R.I.P., but all that talkin' tough gonna get this homo shot He can fight back bet he still (steel) body like Robocop You might lose 'bout half ya face when the fo' fo' pop The mortuary did what they could but, you don't even look like that head belong with that body he in the casket lookin' photo shopped Now I, can send a hit and get his mans to kill him I'll grab his bitch and feed his baby shells like Hispanic children Child's play, but I don't, so I got rid of my new gun and went to my G pop's to get that old rifle Them dome shots got him dyin' from old rounds like the bars recycled Now you can rap, nigga you got lyrics, they love it when you be spittin' conscious Until I blow out his brains and boot it off stage, nigga now let's see who's kickin' knowledge Now let's get it poppin' Somebody should've told this nigga I'm not a rookie Eric Wright, the only Compton nigga I know to get killed by a pussy So please don't push me, talkin' 'bout you might violate Please bro, the only nigga I ever worried about violatin' me was my P.O You not a G bro, I can look you in yo' eyes and tell you a mark I showed yo' mama a picture of you and a vagina, she couldn't tell you apart Cause you a pussy! Rappin' 'bout guns you never hold and drugs you never sold That'll get you pistol whipped then shot That's a butt and a bald head like Amber Rose I'm the Rose That Grew From Concrete, I'm the young 'Pac Buck 50 his face, nigga that cut gonna look fucked up like Yung Joc Now this, where the .40 stop I got a business mind but a soldier's heart I remember I had to aim the K down before it shoot Man that chopper change the way a nigga bust (bus) like Rosa Parks Foes will spark, at his fam', now fuck he gon' do? I got a pretty chopper, that's my Kim K, now what he gon' do? Code word: Bruce Jenner (What the fuck that mean?) That means pop his mom too I can teach you how to rap You rep' Hunger Gang, what type of shit is that? Nigga fuck yo' crew, all them niggas wack Stuey's banana Now-N-Laters (What's that mean?) He's the worst one out the pack Now pack it up If he was lookin' for an easy win, you better keep lookin' loser For all the fans that say they tired of my gun bars, tell these niggas quit bookin' shooters I came from cookin' noodles on the same stove the dope was cookin' Servin' rocks, we knew them cops was comin' cause we had them smokers lookin' Now take a good look at him, do he even really look like a west coast nigga? Like for real, really look at this nigga Cause they asked me to kill him so they could finally stop bookin' this nigga And when it's real, they can tell they can see it in yo' eyes It's yo' turn, see if niggas gon' believe them lies Nigga time [Round 2: Geechi Gotti] I don't know what the fuck you talkin' about, but I'm really Crippin' Ever since I knew what the C meant That's two choices, nigga life behind them concrete walls or six feet under the cement Nigga, true story, 12 years old I got jumped in, that's busted lips Bloody knuckles, at least that gave me tough skin Nigga you rappin' for the bitches, I'm rappin' so we can make it out the trenches Ain't no good time you bitch nigga, it's all bad Every night we hear "Pop. Pop. Pop." It sound like Marlon and Shawn tryin' to call they dad Nigga you ain't fuckin' wit' me tho' Next time you'll take a rain check A lot of niggas wanna battle Gotti, they just scared of the results like an AIDS test Now I can trip and make this nigga strip, look like he pole dancin' Two straps, one arm on top of the head, the other one under the chin, like one of them 'Vogue' stances Now you gonna stand here and try to condemn me, for bein' a gang banger? But is you really in the streets makin' a difference? I mean damn Newton You promote all this black love But the fact that you got that white bitch at home got me questioning if all that Panther shit is for the Cam' Newton Is you dumb? You never heard the old sayin', you lay down with crackers you wake up with crumbs I'm a crumb snatcher, you a dumb bastard And you got a daughter, right? That mean she half white All that Stuey Newton/Huey Newton, see I never pictured you'd be that guy I'd have back handed that little bitch so she can get well acquainted with the black side Yeah I'm disrespectful, but I got a couple of questions Hold up, what if a race war was to crack off and your daughter there, who she rollin' wit'? When she want to know about her family history, who she go and get? Is it her mommy or her daddy? See no answer, this nigga wrong as shit Well son (Wilson), I'ma pistol whip her and leave her starin' at the Tool Man since she on the fence I'm on this nigga's shit cause he went to New York and he let Reapah Rell tap them pockets See I ain't feelin' that On Nutty Blocc Crip I'm not feelin' that Where I"m from, a nigga tap yo' pockets, you lose respect and you don't get it back This nigga had both hands on yo' pockets like you was gettin' jacked Let a nigga touch my pockets that nigga gettin' slapped Matter of fact, touch my pockets, you prolly feel a strap Catch me strapped up, in yo' city, waitin' to trip I'm in Seattle with a glove and 40 I'm like, [?] Nigga watch what you be sayin' and shit when you be out here Cause I don't give a fuck if you just like the scheme Where I'm from,, you can't wear certain hats in certain hoods, we don't give a fuck if you just like the team Nigga, what you know about D.O.A.? That's Dead On Arrival Or find out you done shot the wrong nigga like, "FUCK. He was lookin' dead on yo' rival." Robberies in my city, been goin' on before I got here It's gonna be crackin' long after I'm gone so you wanna talk about "whatcha life like?" So whatchu know about it bein' a shootin' in yo' hood? Now ya mama scared, she steady callin', she think that's you gone 'Til you walk in the house Now she happy to see you but still cussin' you out cause you ain't answer the phone." Whenever my phone be on silent, that mean don't you dare bug me Don't matter how many niggas I shot The cops ask me, I'ma deny I pop like the kid's ugly I fathered the style, now they all tryin' it Bootleggers, I ain't at all buyin' it So let me sell you some game Cause they say you gotta keep ya friends close but ya enemies closer See, I find that to be true cause, nigga I was 'bout this close to the enemy when I smoked him I don't fuck wit' haters or niggas that back bite You'll get hit with a stolen blade that's a jack knife Crack pipe bar, I know it's dope from the top of the rifle I can see his death He got a horoscope, I'm scopin' the scene, making sure the coast is clear Ooh the package drop, see that mean the dope is here I'm a Cocaine Cowboy see I got the plug You from Washington, ironic with that acetone I be washin' tons Tons of coke, bills ready to pay Glad I never got caught, cause they prolly would've sent me up the Federal way It's way too grimy in my city, nigga you can't come (cum) bump sex Gwitty killed you, now I'm up here disrespectin' the dead, I'm Funk Flex Matter of fact, fuck Flex 12 gauge shotty will pump Flex for disrespecting a legend A hundred shots? We'll give that nigga like a Hot 97 Time [Round 3: Geechi Gotti] So to prove you hard, you had to come here and say, "Oh I was havin' shootouts in front of my mama house too with all four of my brothers." You lucky I wasn't there I would've pulled up and shot all ya muhfuckas You wanna know the difference between me and you? You would care to know I just don't give a fuck See they say, show no love, it'll get you killed, but that's crazy cause where I'm from We don't show no love until a nigga get killed so kill the noise Cause I'll be in the field with toys Separate his chest from his heart, got docs puttin' gauze in there tryin' to fill the void Hold up, cause I done been shot at, close range, but I'm still here See that's how I know that I'm blessed Cause I done seen bullets chase niggas down that was tryin' to run from they death And they ain't get away See I'm tryin' to tel you I done literally seen niggas run out of breath You come to my set, you gon' see these blue rags, wrapped around black .9's And who we shootin'? It don't Matter like Black Lives Life of a gangsta, cause I don't got time for scared biz' After I kill a nigga, yeah I'll pray, but not for forgiveness Just that my mama never got to experience the pain that there's did Have you ever seen a mama cryin' over her dead son? That shit'll give you chills bro like, "This shit sad." It's really real bro You like, "I know her heart broke. But with time, that shit'll heal though." That's the type of shit you gotta tell yo'self when you the one that killed him though The steel low, I'm the first to shoot When shit hit the fan, yo Ryda, tell this nigga "Don't dap me." Cause you ain't never supposed to shake a killer's hand Only the real shooters in the buildin' gon' understand Cause sometime to get that gunpowder off I had to piss on my hand Hands down, I'm war ready So if you ready, I'm more ready I'm a gang banger so every time I walk out the house, I gotta be prison yard or morgue That's jail or death, I know the options I'm with this shit, I ain't never stoppin' Cause murder part of the lifestyle when you come from Compton Nigga them streets done turned niggas in Smack battles, cause we don't know when they droppin' Droppin' like flies, I done seen niggas die everyday I'm used to the ambulances racin', I'm comfortable around death, I used to go by "Murda" like Pastor Ma$e and My [?] it was curtains for a nigga if I had a prob' I really used to put in work with that Tommy Ask my enemies if he had a job I had to rob, cause I was broke, I had to feed myself Lookin' in the mirror at the end of the night like, fuck it, this shit is it Nigga, I didn't even believe myself Mafia, I'm a made man, sometimes I hold the Glock like a cop, I might even use that same stance A nigga gon' ask me, do I give a fuck about how many niggas I shot or do I know Hell nah, I got like four and a possible that's a Spades hand Aye man look, I am a gangsta, you right But I don't think that shit is cool Cause it's fucked up I done put in more work in the streets than I ever did in school, so switch the tool From drill to hammer Call gold chopper, sometimes that clip look like a real banana So don't slip and get peeled, cause it's realer than real I know niggas who ain't never been inside of a church until they get killed Nigga this shit real, ain't no snitchin' where I'm from, you would get whacked for talkin' I hate the cops so much, after I got shot I told the homie, "Please just drive me to the hospital so I don't have to call 'em." The .40 was compact, I got shot and I shot back, I still got a bullet in my back See the field I'm on, ain't nothin' like football Well I guess it is somethin' like that Cause I got hit and kept runnin', that's yards after contact Beyond that, all that shit you talkin' I can still tell you ain't never witness death close up That's just so cold shit, I was close enough to hear they last breath Shit I even see which way the soul went, no shit We don't even live the same life Sometimes that extendo hangin' off my hip I be lookin' uncomfortable like a third wheel on date night Nigga, Night Of The Living Dead, nigga my hood like a zombie flick After I kill a nigga, I go to Instagram to see an R.I.P. post and still "Like" the pic Nigga that's my type of shit Matter of fact, somebody tell Ryda and Jakk, I'll ride wit' a strap So it ain't no beatin' me nigga, I don't even got L's That'll tell you how I feel about the DMV And when it's real, you can tell, you can see it in they eyes nigga No more of them bullshit ass lies nigga Mafia
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