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o-red vs showoff (o-red's rounds) - rare breed entertainment lyrics

[round 1]
i said…. brah rah stah nah blah ofdas hah dah
this rah bah was rah bah sah hah snah
i know it’s early, but as ya’ll can see – his head shaking
so straight out the gate he get that motherfucking translation
i said brizz rawsteen knocked the block off’a this hoe diva
this ’bout to be the worst rebox since hov sneakers
i was bred in the underworld, i’m gutter
warn a nigga y’all likin’ ’em, light rounds only work against the suckers
my wolves posted, you can’t nickel i/nikolai, you pekovich
you talk through rounds, i throw ’em – you heckler shit, i heckler shit
this ‘sposed to be boom standing here, catching this
g card’s i was only supposed to pull ah di’s
now i gotta stretch a b-tch
boom.. when you get home, you know where to find me scr-p
after i lay this pussy flat, i’mma bury you where he at
the bodies’ll overlap, like a dmx tat
that’s my lingo: ya dog boom’ll be on ya back!
i’m beyond strapped, this curry 30 i’m ’bout to drop sick
and i got 2 extra rounds waiting to wash it
adam adam, i’m at ’em, suit ’em, no slackin’, you’ll die b-tch
i’ll body you, your hoodie vs jai, i’m talking 5 zip
shit pop, i keep two ratchets on a menage tip
main piece, side b-tch
get the nigga you ride with, lied quick
two nines grip, i bomb shit
k!ll his dog then take jon whip, turn ’em to john wick
on second thought fuck letting the nines rip
shaq, chuck, kenny, and ej when i clap mine, show
you get fifty percent of the drum, i half-tom (half-time) show!
no debating, him, get pushed? fo sho
them? get pushed for show
chef ranch, y’all getting chopped when i’m done cooking show/show
in other words, fuck jonathon heard
he get half of the clip, the rest of it for jonathon herd
the thought of rockin’ this herb, was far fetched/farfetch’d
but if that check on his head, i’ll put a stick right on the side of this bird
click-bow! one through ya abs, leave ya kidney on ya thighs bro
the shit i blew magic/blue magic, the first hit was the side, show/sideshow
banana clip, the rest’a serve this effin’ nerd
that b-tch off’a get shot down, respect the curve
if ya set disturb, 300 grand thangs, i’ll cop a box
copper tops with the big -ss casings, no otterbox
scratch the serial, then i inf’ it, load it, and c-ck the clock
no numbers just hands with a dot on top – movado watch
i said i heard you getting rich, moving them bricks from block to block
i’ll turn this shit to a scene from get out if you got it ock
tell ’em “gimme the keys” or i’m poppin’ shots
rock a twat, hit the top of a t three times, and watch a body drop
don’t like that movie reference? no problem, i could switch it nigga
three of these b-tches put jon outer space: that’s hidden figures
you get the picture? i aim that, bang that
leave a lame flat
spin with the ross on jon like a lil wayne track
i’m not a star, somebody lied i got a chopper in the car – send my squadron to get it
you head home, we got to brooklyn and we barging in wit’ it
i’m in show room/showroom with a chopper like a harley exhibit
that bar don’t even count, you know why? he moved to my state
great, i could wait to pop ’em
these rifle rounds got mind/mine goals, i’ll genghis khan ’em
or tell spee to send the e-o goonies and they could rock ’em
they be looking for a f-ggot in jersey, jason collins
but wait, he moved to st louis, right?
d-mn i can’t even get ’em, sike
that’s where i’ll fucking go
great american outdoors, that mean i’m hunting show/show
catch ’em chilling with hitman brother, then let a couple go
the bullets’ll spin off/spin off, but they started out on that other showw/show
cause when a clip’s a spin off, it started out on another show
rbe, do y’all see what happen when you try to be a showoff, nigga?
headshot, knock the fucking roof on show off nigga
make ya cast roll like the credits when the show off nigga
spoiler alert, y’all know who dead before the show off nigga?
showoff nigga! brooklyn!

[round 2]
you remind me of that everybody hates chris hustler, when you stand here spitting like you could rip me
that mean you got the wrong name in jersey, this shit’s risky
you iffy, i got that bone thugs in me
oh, you don’t get it? that’s my lingo for i’m crazy/krayzie lazy/layzie but when fans wish for me in the flesh, i gets busy/bizzy
you dig me? i know you do cause i hear my whole style in ya flow clown
e-a-u-x, you giving off that o sound
see the tommy then a dumb dumb, it ain’t cole brown
aim at 12 o’clock, that’s high noon and show down/showdown
i said a close range ada kit leave his body inanimate
bk sucker, he eddie murphy on a acting tip
i’m julius at the end in the limo chilling in back of it
how red ring on son roof/sunroof, this max his/max’s shit
ya’ll get the reference? no, let me retract the shit
it’s vampire in brooklyn, bk sucker, eddie murphy on a acting tip
julius was the ghoul, remember at the end he was with pops in the limo chilling in back of it?
the red ring fell from the roof, he said “this max’s shit”
now that right there, that was some cookie sucking magic d-ck
cop fat as shit on foot chasing the fastest whip
forty yard bomb p-ssing it, the left tackle shit
that’s a triple “that’s my lingo” i knew you wouldn’t catch the shit
inadequate, you ain’t the king, you coming at it, quit
grown -ss man getting schooled, he billy madison
a bar thief, that’s my lingo for you just ave’/ave with it
abdomen or attic hit, leave his body in half with it
united worker, that’s my lingo for i be draggin’ shit
this very same combo, i was bodying ave with it
but troy cut me off so you just caught the other half of it
speaking of that, smack was just doing what he ‘posed to do
when leagues call time, it’s/carl thomas cause opponents getting emotional
carl thomas, emotional, lower view, i let go a few
get dropped with a leg shot them some’a/summer rain over you
talk about you ride on your enemies with a glock
hit ’em up/hit ’em up, and keep a bandanna wrapped around the top
you thug life? stop
you wouldn’t give jersey red wings/red wings and let a bald head spit on cam if you was pac
a mop’ll prolly fuck up your shoulder, silly jonathon
nigga can’t handle that thunder, he billy donovan
i lift a arm and give ’em rounds, the milly rocking ’em
or shotgun, if the math right? i’ll jimmy hoffa ’em
i’ll rock the body ya’ll got beside me when i pop a shotty
split his shit, put a fork in his grill – maserati
cannon flash – paparazzi
plain/plane bombing – kamikaze
body you, then ride on h2r, no kawasaki
arp… he on some house party 3 shit with your f-g -ss
you let this kid play/kid n play immature and he act bad
out the v these rounds in his chest’ll make ’em a hashtag
you shoulda told show boat/showboat after you seen me blast ave
but nah, you rather let ’em think he on my level
got belphagor believing he can supersede the devil
now he dead, somebody get the shovel
i just got a body in two rounds like axel from twisted metal
st louis!

round three soon come

- rare breed entertainment lyrics

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