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b. dot vs. rum nitty - urltv lyrics

[round 1: rum nitty]
alright, what’s poppin’ brody?
now that we got av’ recordin’, i’ma keep it real
for the next 12 or somethin’ minutes, you are not the homie
let’s get it then, it’s gon’ get interestin’
cause y’all lookin’ around like it ain’t no crowd
i’m lookin’ around like it ain’t no witnesses
lookin’ for him, finna k!ll a b*tch
leave your head on ice, your body droppin’
if you don’t wanna be rottin’, dot calm (rotten.com) it down
cause you’ll be dead on sight (site)
empty out lead all night
n*ggas ain’t f*ckin’ wit’ me
it’s gonna take more than that black power fist for you to punch with nitty
up the milli
put a b*tch in the bag, you ain’t like that
n*ggas doin’ sh*t just for the cam’
i’m from the era where your moms mom will make you go pick a switch with ya hands
i ain’t never pull out sticks for the ‘gram
this who i am
i spaz wild, still i’m careful with the delivery, it’s fragile
clap rounds, man i’ll spin on this whole car
push it to the limit with the max (mac’s) out
back down or run scared
this sh*t is unfair
we gon’ make it a cliffhanger…cause it’s up there and it’s stuck there
guns here, we keep a pistol
pull up where you be with k!llers
you’ll get broke down, tore up
whoever trip’ll lay (triple a) out in the streets, you gon’ need assistance
and jesus wit’ ’em, mini mac burst
baow, send you backwards
i’m the type that’ll put dot in a box, it’s a hidden password
get you bagged first
hoe n*gga, no feelings
sh*t’ll get ugly for a b*tch; no filter
go k!ll him
chest shot, dot on the spot like pulp fiction
pole lift and ya melon bust, stretchin’ cuz
it don’t stop after dot like etcetera
set it up, squeeze the heat, you see a piece
but ain’t no lettin’ up, we about whatever cuz
eager to clap
if i can’t get to you, then i’ll try a sleezier tact’
have my b*tches drop your location and tell ’em swing where they at
stupid n*gga thinkin’ he’s finna menage (minaj), now b’s (‘beez) in the trap’
now clap
[round 1: b. dot]
b. dot vs. rum nitty
supposed to be my n*gga
got me up in here rappin’ witchu
but it’s cool, i gotchu covered, i’m talkin’ twin magazines, you gon’ have your issue
i’ve got these desert e’s from new orleans
i’m talkin’ fresh out the box, brand new pistols
and i’m angry b*tch, so with these double d’s, i’m ’bout to be mad official (o’fficial)
what’s brackin’ witchu?
you thought we was cool rum?
nmm hmm, well that sh*t dead fast
either you a scary crip or a bad judge of character
the whole relationship you’ve been ignoring the red flags
lead blast
upon entrance, your eyes gon’ light up when the desi’ c*ck or the gun to your stomach
steady, are you ready?
baow, i open the scene with a belly shot
you really not, on my level
what good is an author with pen when your chapters bore me?
i mean, gun line after gun line about the mask and the .40
why i pop you, put you in the box, then hustle up another casket for shorty
y’all gon’ lie together, happy endin’, i got your plot extended, i just like to add to the story
y’all n*ggas snoring
i’m here to open your eyes, i’m supplying the real view
all this time wishin’ death upon rum, that made me terminally ill
yeah, i’ve been dyin’ to k!ll you
i’m tryin’ to drill you
like catch you in the whip for real, and stand in front
shootin’ up the hood lettin’ pistols peel
i knew this was the car he’d be in (cardi b), now he’s gon’ have to fix the grill
i’m sick for real
i’ll knock yo’ whip off a cliff
into the ocean you fall to your doom
you gon’ sleep with the fish and see (sea) (deficiency) for thinkin’ your auto immune
what’s bothering you?
they told you i retired? like i just up and quit? that’s some other sh*t
besides, there’s some other things i wanna do before i go
you know, bucket (buck it) list, rugged sh*t
i set the bait down on the plate
look who’s biting next (necks); sucka sh*t
you ain’t gon’ be able to withstand the heat, i think you should cover up a bit
this what happen when they walk a (daywalker) n*gga into the sun
thinking he blade just to find out he ain’t cuttin’ it
i’m runnin’ up a l!ck
told beasley, add a couple racks and i’ll get my rhyme on
this is math and science
i’m not sure what this molecule charge but it can’t be what i on (ion)
i ride on
five shooters in the whip, maneuvering it quick
see you in your circle and 380’s blazin’
if i send 5 g’s to f*ck witcha nucleus it ain’t radiation
you carry ah*
that’s too much science, please forgive the habit
i mean, under the lab coat we forget the static, the whole time
didn’t even know we had it
he like, “had what?”
a symptom ‘matic (asymptomatic)
this the baddest, n*gga in the game, who the east coast claim
“well you know rum nitty? son mad nice. word up, different.”
well this is the west, we expect you to be at yo’ best
we know you gon’ turn up* missin’
you got blurred up vision
type to see ya homie with a b*tch
you wait until they split then make an entrance
you came and swooped his b*tch, got a whole group and clique some attention
they ain’t gon’ spell it out
but they wondering if takin’ his b*tch was your initial interest
i would’ve canned that
i mean twisted a cap as soon as i witnessed the fizzing
that’s the difference
and that’s that black african power
and if these is yo’ last days rum then this is yo’ last hour
[round 2: rum nitty]
any and every line i’ma empty out this clip of mine
so it’s the small chance that you gon’ make it out this sh*t alive
barely escape with the skin of yo’ t**th if this b*tch survive
that’s choppers (chompers) and ammo (enamel)
have a brush with death and it ain’t no sense of dyin’ (sensodyne)
lift the .9, up and it’ll smoke him
son of a gun?
you get one in the head since you wanna be loaded
i come wit’ a .40
this ain’t what you want cuz
thinkin’ this sh*t a game, but we don’t think it’s ‘one blood’
dumb f*ck, you contradictin’ in ya lines
roc voice, “still these n*gga lyin'”
i keep it a hundred, on everything like military time
you ain’t already out ya mind? i’ll beat you out of it
knocked out an awake n*gga; sleep paralysis
devour sh*t, .38 will do the part, i shoot it arced
put dot under the nose; it’s a beauty mark
give a f*ck who you are
i’m the sh*t on the low
talk the way i be talkin’ cause i really did it befo’
you’ll get ya chain sn*tched, i’ll take ya sh*t off fo’ sho’
you know me, just wondering how much i can get off the ropes
ya b*tch’ll get smoked
tell him, “come and try it.”
i’m more malcolm than martin, i’m the one for violence
you got all your moves from lux, that’s your f*ckin’ idol, stick to ya guns
it can only be one loaded; like a musket rifle
son is dyin’, his brother dyin’, if he run up on me he shot
you late, i can’t be on real n*gga time today, cause .4 on the dot
if my locs get the drop, they be there in seconds
sh*t’ll get eerie, scary
ancient texts (tecs) reveal the message
desert eagle triangle resemble a pyramid reflection
got you calling out for ya god, and here come meds (kemetics)
sk!lls untested
n*ggas ain’t cookin’ wit’ me, i run it
elementary games, if you really look at it b…i be punchin’
big sh*t, .223’s, clutchin’
cut him down, i got a giant chop in the trunk, that’s paul bunyan
off somethin’
you got 24 hours and i don’t think you gon’ make it
i’m the original so by dawn dot’ll (‘don dadda’) die like louie rankin
you in danger
i caught this p*ssy by surprise
shook him up, scared the sh*t outta b, see (b.c.)
he didn’t even look me in the eyes
you gon’ die
can’t keep it real yourself, suicide or i’ll do the job
you decide; k!ll yaself
[round 2: b. dot]
aye, so, yo’ little tiny ass
went and bagged ms. hustle big booty ass?
wow, {claps} you must’ve really earned that
i mean, props to whatever you did to deserve that
just stay on yo’ job my n*gga, cause i’d worked that
i mean, keep her caged in or get ya bird sn*tched
look, i’m sure she mean the world to you my n*gga
but if she curved me, no conspiracy i’d leave ya earth flat
heard that? well that’s whispers from a dead man walking
and know to k!ll a zombie we gotta take a hit to the dome so i’m liftin’ the chrome
you gettin’ plugged, outta nowhere, with an unexpected connection; rick and michonne
the sh*t that i’m on? i’ll turn ya head into a convertible roof if i blast shots
you had the bandana wrapped around ya head, well i took it as a sign; n*gga rag tops
man stop, you goin’ in and out of consciousness, d*mn dot
you like a whole ‘nother n*gga when you flair up
well i don’t know whether to square up or air rum
we past the point on no return
so i’ma kick it off and then wave, either way you catch a fair one
compare none, i’d have went buck for buck with other writers and no money wasted
i mean face it, we can’t trade wits
against other pens you look basic
you couldn’t amount to lose change in julian’s pockets, and that don’t make sense (cents)
when jc pen he (penny) showed you had nothing in store
it was close (clothes), you’re not adjacent
then with iron it was the same sh*t
it was gun lines and name flips
always trying to land thee punch
chasing that one like agents in the matrix
while your opponents, they strategize, they play chess and shapeshift
yeah you got height, far as stature in the game but you’ll never come with the right angles when you’re baseless
ya tasteless
you serve no substance with the meal (mil’)
we fell if you got tre’s (trays) then you should balance like a waiter with the glasses
like when we say we need “food for thought” that don’t mean “cater to the ratchets”
ya actin’
yeah you point with the pen, i pinpoint, this is accurate
wow, you popped up outta nowhere
a crip with punches this is magic
you be spazzing
you even got a brand new style now, wow, this is madness
i’m just askin’
i’m not judgin’, but uh, can we conviction? a little passion?
we know you got all the gunlines rum, hats off, you be cappin’
what ya lack is, an explanation for why the gun is tucked
like tell us that ya childhood was f*ckin’ rough
or tell us some sh*t like, in order to eat you had to rob mcdonalds with two pistols for the 2 for 2 meal (mil’) you had to double up
i mean what the f*ck?
we just wanna know why you fo’ fo’ it
get us on the same track, writin’ all yo’ battle raps to strap you gon’ go it
what’s your train of thought? otherwise we don’t know it
all aboard cause (cuz), we know you k!ll, we just need to know loco motives (locomotives), and you gon’ show it
it’s that black african power
and if these is your last days rum, then this is ya last hour
n*gga

[round 3: rum nitty]
i’ve been all over the atlas rappin’
active, like 50 matches
a couple classics
a few caskets
even went and got my ass kicked
but never slackin’
if i think i lost then i’ll say i lost and i’m hittin’ practice
you n*ggas backwards
worried about a backend and what ya stats is
wonderin’ why you stagnant and the whole class is movin’ past him
but me? i made a name, stamped it
painted a stain on canvass we standin’
so facts is, i ain’t earn my respect, i sn*tched it
let me talk that sh*t
a motherf*ckin’ staple in the game, boy
why you think i go so hard to protect my name for?
for instance, i could’ve cut my third round off against shine
i was lookin’ stupid on that stage, boy
but i kept focus, got it together and gave the fans what they came for
never cheat ’em out what they paid for
and i feel like them type of roads need to be paved more
it’s lesson learnin’
i mean it’s difficult to get up there and remember verses
most n*ggas would’ve just choked and then ended early
i’m like marlon wayans on above the rim, i never jersey
you already murdered
i whipped the piece up on him
so keep thinkin’ them rum shots was weak, ’til i creep up on him
don’t say i ain’t warn him
i air somethin’, heavy on the scale cousin
so press me and i’m clearin’ sh*t out, it’s the tare b*tton
can’t keep it real yourself
suicide or i’ll do the job, you decide, k!ll yaself

[round 3: b. dot]
battle rap is in a weird climate
y’all let n*ggas choke, just get the heimlich
new n*ggas dissin’ goats
pg’s talkin’ to mook like, “aye, aye i’m cut from a different cloth.”
how you gonna tell that to a n*gga that designed it?
y’all mindless
i think all y’all n*ggas linkin’ up is p*ssy; v*g*n*s
yeah you need somebody to have ya back cause ya spineless
i’m reminded, you a virus
infected the staff of every battle rap clan you’ve aligned with
another fake ass crip, you only under the c (sea) for the look, you’re scuba diving
you reside in, arizona? you a loner, n*gga what gang?
i’m sure the seed was planted, but bangin’ in battle rap wasn’t planted until the nut’ came
y’all such lames
ever since gotti everybody in some gang claimin’
just cause a n*gga got a gun that don’t mean he bang stainless
besides, keepin’ a .9 a must (anonymous) but to us y’all still remain nameless
this game changin’
you can’t even link when n*ggas from yo’ set famous
traffic 3 dizaster brought out big tray dee
he ain’t even know you, that’s insane, ain’t it?
it’s way dangerous
how y’all drag red and blue rags into the venue
well my motto is, it ain’t always gotta be on you when it’s in you
don’t pretend to, act like you defend blue, with ya devilish ways
i get up close on the east sider (eastsidaz) and buck it
and then i step back shootin’ from range
you get the point n*gga; duces ‘n trayz
you in a daze, confused, you don’t even realize you in a maze
where the objective is not to go runnin’ to god, they tryin’ to turn you into ma$e
you was a saint, i don’t see devils
just a battle rap banger who i don’t believe squeeze metals
you get banged on outside of battle rap, i’m sure the p settles
inside battle rap if it get too hot for this bi*polar, cap, that’s when he try to raise the sea (c) levels
n*gga we rebels
you just need a different aim and i’m here to provide you one
you can be the “gun line king” but at the oppressors where a real king will line his gun
they divide us up
blood vs. crip, tribal stuff
we rivals but i don’t think violence is a place i need to resort to see the c side (seaside) wit’ us
i’m reminded of
all the guys i love
from the red strings in my shoes to the ‘blue skies above’, we unite as one
they don’t think two gods can co*exist
well you run the c’s (seas) and i bring the heat, that’s hero and poseidon bruh
i done type this up
and when i text my crips, i don’t spell with “ck’s” cause a n*gga respect it
and you should’ve known i see c (cc) but i guess you wasn’t gettin’ the message
you in here with a blessing
and you gon’ have to acknowledge i’m the greatest
i mean you can have all the gun lines rum
but what good is a gun without the knowledge to create it?
you’re not dangerous
i know bangers, i’m talkin’ close rangers
type to ask a n*gga, “aye where you from?”
and don’t even need the answer
baow
it was a no*brainer
ya no namer
they said jesus was a carpenter
well i wasn’t born in no old manger
i’m just creating new grounds for you to walk upon
after this i hope yo’ flow changes, no mo’ bangers
that’s that black african power
and if these is yo’ last days rum then this was yo’ last hour
my n*gga

- urltv lyrics

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