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Correct John John Da Don Vs. Bill Collector Lyrics
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Correct John John Da Don Vs. Bill Collector
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[Round 1: John John Da Don] John John Da Don vers' Bill Collector: is this what y’all wanna see? A fresh fly young emcee, vers' a Tech 9 wannabe? God forgive me for this murder, and please don't punish me ’Cause I'm not tryna sin, I'm just sending you some company 'Cause I'ma send him to the sky, like a astronaut but when I knock this bitch up it's no accident when my Magnum pop Give him lead, just to test him, not worried if he pass or not 'Cause he gon' get the same multiple choice that B Magic got That’s A, headshot, so it’s off with his mug Or B, hit up his ribs till he coughing up a lung Or C, go for his knees and have him falling on his nuts Or D, start from his feet and shoot all of the above 'Cause as of lately, ya’ whole team been looking a little shaky How Time Bomb 6'5'', Rosenberg 500 pounds, and they get bodied by little JC? I’m a New York giant, so if Bill play me Y'all gon' need more than George Wilson for Bill''s safety Fuck Team Tag 'Em, I'll kill ya' whole clique Time Bomb time is up, he still ain't blow shit Eat Raw like a uncooked meal, a cold dish Cheap customer, how I'ma leave Bill, with no tip I caught 'em all at once, looked like we was taking photos I flashed that cannon, made 'em show me the cheese, then they all froze You, Pinocchio, you wish you was real Give me the wrong pose if he would boy I'll be lying, with this long nose I hear him take his shots, I hear that boy hating So I'ma throw back bullets from that cal boy, I think I'm Troy Aikman Find me in Norristown with toys blazing Even if he didn't do it, he still gotta die, Troy Davis So I hope you ready for war with all that talking 'Cause I'll be at ya' door with the Mormons in the morning The way I grill beef hit Foreman for endorsements This Heckler I got, fuck up more, than your performance I'm not Young Greg, I'm not Amazing D-Boy I'm not M. Ciddy, they was just the decoys Now you on a dummy mission, operation destroy Barrel on his head then spin it like a b-boy Used to be a blazer now he more like B-Roy That Mag, got a kick and the glow, Bruce Leeroy I let it blow to lay him down, think I'm tryna sing Lloyd On my own, there's no one I phone, I'm Team Droid Had to check this nigga on the internet first You pussy online, you don't even put in net work This nigga think he balling that's until I let the TEC squirt And put him on reserve when I leave him with a red shirt His girl known for that good tip drill I call her Black & Mild, she's always on my wood tip Bill I bought some ghetto boys from Brooklyn, you could get killed Think you Scarface, they'll find you out in Bushwick Bill 'Cause on the real, you pussy, I don't know who you tryna fake 'Cause when you battled against Ciddy, you got all inside his face Till he almost snuffed you, when you hit his hat by mistake Then you apologized, like a bitch, then gave him a lotta space You PA niggas ain't learned from that Dose hit from Math? You'll get snuffed while you rapping, ask Joey Jihad Toast gonna blast and turn him to the ghost of the past That milli bang like Philly slang, he'll really go in his bag [Round 1: Bill Collector] Huh I'm only saying it once when I'm saying the John and there's already a Don so you saying it wrong John boy we ain't playing along We can see you are just another lame with another nigga's name Get me in the, get me in the, get me in the game Knock this nigga out his Rover if you get me in the Range Matter fact, fuck that, don't get me in the range With the super-duper scope I hit this nigga from Japan, blam Ya' ass gon' get it, Bill Montana you can meet my lil' friend Dog I kill ya' Tall, fishy motherfucker put the chrome to this nigga make lil' John silver 'Bout time you and my nine got familiar Run up in yo' hotel, snatch yo' memorabilia Slit yo' bitch throat like, OJ Simpson get acquitted get on Twitter then say that I really did it That chopper end yo' dreams it wake you up like 'Good morning' Mouth wide, arms stretched, shit gon' look like you're yawning This is not the play station no I don't work for Sony My blade be swinging Shinobi my white boy shooting Ginóbili Put that eight right on my back fresh outta school John I'm Kobe Most vicious with that pistol, MVP with my trophy, ha Ya' skin turn two-tone when I shoot those .38 snubs with the wide Murda Mook nose Let me get serious This that high-murder-rate, dark alley flow Bill is a work out, never been to Ballys though Leave you embarrassed like your parents at a talent show Sweating like K Shine staring down a calicoe Or Teranio, you know what I mean though Norbes threw me up in the game, I got the cheat code I smack white out ya' mouth, call Chico Niggas sit and watch while I shoot, this a free throw Most-hated PA, we go hard And we here to take it all like the RICO law Repo y'all, finish him, finito dog In that Ray Allen range, Tim Tebow arm Drink Heinekens and spit them perico bars True stories, ya' radio bars is too boring Niggas couldn't find my flow, with LoJack You're not really the Don, and sh'know that I'm more, you see I'm rapping on Ya' life is such a rumor and I hope it passes on You Ghostface Killah, my bullets deep as Wu-Tang with New Era signs, that's how you cap a Don When I went to pick my check up homie Smack said "Bill, you 'bout to be the next up homie On top, so step up homie" I'm hot dog, Suge tried to put ketchup on me You looking for a win, ain't no hope homie In this battle rap shit I'm the Pope homie Dang, nah I ain't choke homie Ya' momma calling, and I ain't got no coke on me I'm done [Round 2: John John Da Don] One pussy, two pussy, three pussy, four Ya' whole clique is a porn flick, y'all just pussy galore I'm celibate, I don't wanna see these pussies no more So it's fuck 'em, fuck 'em, fuck 'em till the pussy is sore Pause, y'all really got this man amped for real? This ain't rapping, he just showing off his dancing skills So I'ma imitate his flow, make it more advanced, but still You're way too animated, so it can't be real So chill, 'cause the only bill you got is in ya' name nigga Sit ya' ass down before I make change nigga Take this L when I aim you lil' lame nigga Keenen Ivory Wayans low-down dirty shame nigga I walk in Bill crib with the milli ha Then let it burn like Usher mixed the chili ha I don't shoot, no blanks I ain't Billy ha Eagles to ya' dome, home game out in Philly ha Now I got the crowd going wild, Ooh Ahh Four pound calm him down, woosah Get ya' head cracked when it's two dice, you die Wet you with a cannonball like you was sitting poolside You not from Philly, I know you don't know Gillie I know you don't know Reed but you always on ya' knees Don't know why you mentioned Peedi but I'm not at all hating Let it ring, till it click, and got another call waiting But, you got the burner, you said you got the burner We heard about the burner but we never seen a burner So how many times he gon' talk about his burner When no shots are being fired and no bodies never turn up? I am, a motherfucking problem Bill I did good with Magic like my last name was Copperfield Yeah I heard ya' music, no wonder you ain't got a deal Probably 'cause ya' single ain't even worth a dollar Bill But you got flows, so I'ma quote ya' You beyond reggie that's good, 'cause I'm a smoker I shoot first think second when that nine approach ya' Take ya' face off, now my name, John Travolta He think he funny, with this random shit So I'ma laugh, then clap, like a fan of his He'll be wheelchair-bound with four jammed-up limbs Let's see if this comedian, could do stand-up then I got a call from somebody that Bill went to school with He said Eric Wilkinson rode the short bus and had a bad habit of drooling He stayed in one class all day, with ten teachers and five students I said "You telling me he was Spec' Ed?" He said "Duh", I knew it He even told me 'bout dirty Dana, at the time was the new chick She let everybody from Norristown Area, to [?] High, run through it When this dumb nigga fucked her he had a condom, but didn't use it I said "Is that why he say he got the burner now?" He said "Duh", I knew it I swear them guns so big I gotta hold it like a water hose Like I'm getting head from a milf, I let that .40 blow 30 from that heat outta nowhere, NORESCO The heat'll get the coffin like he caught a cold I do more than show it off, when I flash gats While he reminiscing, he still wouldn't flash back You ain't gotta own ya' publishing, to get ya' ass capped I'll put this pussy to sleep, take a catnap Eat his whole flow, now that's what you call a snack rap Pull his card when I hit him, we ain't even playing blackjack The K'll pop, when I raise the stock, no Nasdaq Fill his kitchen with shells like he work at Joe's Crab Shack And that's that [Round 2: Bill Collector] John took this battle 'cause he thinking he'll rise Big Cheese Mix guess he thinking that he a'ight Barely pass two K's just for thinking that he live Fuck did you come for, John boy? I let my hand ring on you six times boy They think we arguing 'bout Kobe and LeBron boy You look like a dyke bitch playing tomboy Remain calm boy, the shit that I palm boy Be all black and it claps for an encore This is real nigga rap here John boy Get killed if Bill on ya' heels, fresh Concords Somebody better talk to him I got Atlanta starting line, five hawks to him And yo' body where they that? In the trash where ya' rhymes at Matter fact let's rewind that, Mortal Kombat I raid in put the spark to him My guns drawn like a cartoon Oh well Free Willy, catch a harpoon I line him up and put a part through him, I'm [?] the barber So hard and hip hop's father Punchline artist, Antonio Tarver Ya' girl on my nuts, I George Washington carve her Pause and then [?] the chest, Nicki Minaj her Damn, why I even bother? Riders when I roll up, heaters when I roll up 20s of that very best reefer when I roll up It ain't Wiz Khalifa in yo' speakers when you roll up It's Beyoncé screaming 'Diva' when you roll up Ricky Martin 'loca à la vida' when you roll up John, this is what we wanna ask Are you white or Puerto Rican Team Money Bagz? You vic' fo' Nah you ain't win, you was that close Where ya' gun John? It's back home How you gon' milk me for my cheese when you lack toast? You Phil Jackson with the bullshit, I'm thinking which weapon to maneuv' with The nine in the side pocket or the pool stick I shoot boot, leg, record the full clip I ain't choke homie, his momma calling I got my whole swag down Emcee wit' a hammer you can't touch me You need WD-40, ya' hand rusty Pull up in that Yukon, the MAC-10 husky Bullets hit women and kids, Sandusky I am, a motherfucking madman You are getting ripped off, holla at ya' grab man Fiends turn blue off that shit that you trap fam I drop a big dot they get ghost on ya' pack man I heard ya' bitch cute I gotta meet her All these Super Saiyans now she think my name Vegeta I lace her like Adidas apple bum her name Bonita Plus her pussy snap like binder rings now that's a trapper keeper I'm 'bout to serve ya', don't act like you ain't heard of The way I like to murder, shout out to Uncle Murda I grab ya' favorite girl with the Maggie, I'm Homer I use the gasoline, you know I got the burner [Round 3: John John Da Don] It's a difference, if a nigga owe me money, I blast for it You, probably cry complain beg and nag for it Nigga I'm a don, I send a nigga to ya' crib in a mask for it You'se a bill collector, what you do? Call first and ask for it Which is why you don't ever get ya' money back I'm good with money, I know y'all seen my battle with Money Bagz Since he's a Bill, I could fold him and put him inside of Money's bag 'Cause you die and have the same fate, that Money had I'll go postal, when them shells blam Then put Bill in a box, like the mailman I tried to warn him like I'm fucking up a cell's plan Tell him he don't want these MACs like I'm a Dell fan Ain't this the same nigga that dissed Suge for some fame he could run with Then argued with DNA on Twitter over some dumb shit On ya' knees begging for battles, might as well suck dick If this ain't a Tech 9 clone, I don't know what is Shotgun, he said he wanted to battle you, what you wanna do Suge? Never mind, I got you, I'ma kill him, how you would I have my Jersey niggas stomp him all in his chin Till they make red bottoms outta all of they Timbs Now, you ain't going back to Norristown, PA, or no-fucking-where if they let the whole 400 block in And Rosenberg you fat fuck, tell ya' mother to keep some condoms in her purse 'Cause I woulda been ya' father, but I was late, and Norbes got to her first You ain't gotta battle him no more Suge, you good But DNA, didn't he violate you too? So now, I gotta kill him, how you would This the Ultimate Rap League, I don't know how you got in here Probably thought this was Dancing with the Stars, and figured he had a shot this year But guess what, it's third round it's getting hot in here If y'all DNA's slogan, say 'Get him the fuck outta here' So DNA, you ain't gotta battle this nigga no more, you good But didn't he violate you too Tech 9? So now, I gotta kill him, how you would Ain't nobody gonna wanna battle you after this body bag 'Cause everybody you called out, will put you, in a body bag Shotgun, body bag, DNA, body bag Tech 9 will put his body bag in a body bag So y'all ain't gotta battle this nigga no more a'ight, y'all good Now let me get back, to killing this nigga, how I would I go mental on instrumentals then Ginsu, nah that's past tense One shot in his temple we'll all forget you, like a has-been My pit bull is sick it rip through ya' tissue, like a napkin These pistols will hit you split you then ditch you, like a bad friend First hand, keep a SIG, that's gon' wet ya' man And whole that's smoking you might die from the second hand I say fuck it, and keep shooting till that Wesson jam Then reload and give him another shot, that's not a second chance Head shots, when I aim it and snipe You'll sleep, in a bag, like you staying the night So please don't say the John if you ain't saying it twice And if you don't add the Don you ain't saying it right [Round 3: Bill Collector] Lot of talk while I was gone bitch I'm home now Niggas hating 'cause we up I guess it's going down I just shotgun Suge, I was 'bout to clean Pacino, but fuck a QP, I need the whole pound John John lose ya' pompoms You couldn't get to this level with a mat and a tomtom I smack ya' block, bitch it's grind time Roc Nation, 'cause even J see I'm a time bomb I'm shitting on him what's an anus to do My name jumping out the gym now that's heinous to who? Bill Collector on his job John ain't it the truth? He went to jail we came home more famous than you Say what you mean, speak what you know Pay what you owe, reap what you sow Fake niggas learn, real niggas know Real niggas come, fake niggas go You silly faggot, dicks are for chicks Hop off my nigga, I pop off my nigga You would think I spilt the hot sauce my nigga Hit yo' stomach make it do that Rick Ross my nigga, huh Real dopeboy, cops get the finger Come up out that closet Johnny, why you such a hanger? Better brace ya' teeth before I give you a retainer Body get divided leave ya' momma with remainders Bars got you stuck nigga this is a detainer Put this to a beat and they could say that it's a banger Come up to ya' funeral to do the Macarena Fuck it since I'm killing I'ma do the Macarena I been really excelling with my crimes Probably why a nigga catching felons all the time Niggas say I do a lotta yelling when I rhyme But it's hot so, I should start yelling when I rhyme Johnny, in this, game, you a, cheetah, I'ma, spot ya' Hit him, with the, steam, make him, scream, like a, opera Niggas, know I'm, cutting, when I, come in, with the, choppa It go, blocka, blocka, blocka, blocka, blocka, blocka, Waka, Flacka That burner, that BB with the burner I bet I turn his noodle to linguini with the burner Make him think I'm Derek [?] with the burner Break you down to MP3 and make a CD with the burner This street life, I'm into Super sharp, Ginsu Fuck you, him too Two-piece, swimsuits I wet you up when I blat blat Drumroll clip I reload, do the cat [?] You do the Running Man, Bill Collector snapping like rubber bands Randall with the handle make you scramble like Cunningham Watch as I initiate the war, I'm the Son of Sam Gun in hand, coming through ya' window I'm Bruh-Man Write a verse about it shit be worth 'bout a hundred grand You girl think it fabulous, she stutter "D-duh-duh-damn" Nice Spit it till you choke nigga I body-beat you with my bars, rope-a-dope niggas Worth a couple mill' but acting like I'm broke nigga His momma calling for that crack I sell her soap nigga
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