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geechi gotti vs. casey jay - urltv lyrics

[round 1: casey jay]
i said, it’s time for action
every gun you got, i hope you packed ’em
it’s about to be arms breakin’ and legs snappin’
okay, crip, let’s get it crackin’
this whole battle, i’m lettin’ shots fly
i’ll give ya top five
this yo’ funeral, not mine
your crips ’bout to put a flag over your casket like a cop died
the glock rise
if i hear any sh*t about if twork prepped, then i wouldn’t win
i k!ll n*ggas, and i’m about to do you like them
take geechi body and put it right next to swamp
it’s ’bout to look like double impact again!
don’t get me on 10
’cause i’m the type, to spin on him and dim the lights
now i’m at cuzzin (cousin) crib…auntie said i could spend the night
and i don’t play fair
i kick down his door, likе i know bay (bae) there
wit’ .9s, .45s * thе crib lookin’ like daycare!
aim at his chest…spray there
i’ll stain your sh*t
n*gga, i will put a part in your head better than the b*tch that braid your sh*t!
this chopper’ll make you lay down
headshot, knock your brains out
now he on the porch like r. kelly wit’ half his braids out!
f*ck geechi gotti!
this where your life ’bout to come to a stop
wit’ two .4s (24) in plain (plane) sight…gg (gigi) ’bout to die wit’ a pop
i’m eyein’ the opp, so let’s get it poppin’
wit’ two guns, venus and serena
i’m raisin’ both of these b*tches in compton!
i’m trigger*happy
run up on me, i’ll do you badly
.9 out, but this .40 stay hidden (hittin’) like sugar daddies
if i get robbed, i’ll f*ck up smack event
it’s gon’ be brand*new r.i.p. slogans
project x wit’ this head loaded
i’ll make it peel (pill) at nome (gnome) and be on the street wit’ this heat blowin’
i stay wit’ a tool
wait ’til this cannon get pulled
sniper rifle wit’ a stand, on gotti like sammy the bull
if gats get used, it’ll be bad news
i’ll f*ck up your features
the person that birthed marc (birthmark) gon’ have to id you by tattoos
you not that dude
i’ll l!ck a (liquor) shot, hit your casa, migos (casamigos)
i’m not gettin’ a round at the bar
for thinkin’ i was fast food? sonic commercial
every clip getting shot in the car
wit’ this l.a. chopper
let’s see if this l.a. crip can become a l.a. dodger
i know you brought your l.a. partners, but they all get shot if they ride
and i keep blowin’ the nose like the pollen was high
but this is your guy? marcus fantroy?
well, i think marc is a fan, troy
yeah, marc you market ’cause he left a mark on the fans, troy?
well, test me? i bench marc (benchmark), i don’t lose
f*ck who i’m facin’
and n*gga…you’se a b*tch if they even debate it!
i brought the madness, so let’s get to bangin’
deuce*deuce or this tre: this your ultimate ultimatum!
[round 1: geechi gotti]
we got geechi gotti…versus*
what the f*ck this brickface he*she finna do!?
b*tch, i coulda did a song wit’ lu castro and mark henry
and still wouldn’t have stronger features than you!
the heat gettin’ drew, c*ck and pull it
let’s see if this b*tch face strong enough to block a bullet
these thots is foolish
i’ll let a sh*ll blaze you
kylie penner get smoked in the parking lot like a tailgater
top twisted, pen’ head (pinhead) ain’t on straight
who the h*ll raised ya (h*llraiser)?
i’m a trailblazer!
if i can’t do nothin’ else, b*tch, i could shoot straight
100 buck like a blueface
you must be out your mind if you think i’m ‘missing you’, case!
your body get zipped up like a suitcase
i’mma do you worse than i did math
i don’t give a f*ck if it’s wrong or right
you seen what i did to justin, case’ (“just in case”)
you won’t make it home tonight!
this ho won’t fight!
miss me wit’ them bars how you tryna knuckle up
you ain’t wit’ nothin’ tough
me and coffee only fell off ’cause i ain’t let her f*ck you up
b*tch, yo’ jawline buff as f*ck!
yo’ weave need touchin’ up
you ain’t even deserve this battle * y’ain’t done enough
matter fact, if i win, it don’t even matter
this different levels
i’m on a different stature
casey, you won the moment they even gave you this battle
b*tch, you can skedaddle! run along
nah, i’mma k!ll you right here, front and center, so everybody here could see
standin’ over the body, havin’ regrets
feelin’ like prep…”the f*ck this b*tch did to me?”
i been on a k!lling spree!
bardashians? where jaz and o at?
y’all just a group of b*tches who teach each other how to suck d*ck, and everybody knows that
yeah, you better than them other two b*tches * that’s fasho facts
’cause the rapper ain’t never taught you nothin’ ’bout no raps
the only thing jaz(z) can show you is how to blow sacks (sax)
oh, snap!
every! f*ckin’! bar!

“oh, snaps! gotti trippin’! she’s just a girl!”
n*gga, miss me
the b*tch hit me? she gon’ hit a growth spurt right after that, and be 6 feet!
the clips be, extended
b*tch, i can show you
you dead, homegirl
i’ll have jaz pourin’ out thot juice for you
that robotic*ass cadence and stiff delivery is like a cheat for you
that’s why yo’ sh*t is borin’ and tirin’
all yo’ opponents be sleep on you
this a man’s world
i don’t give a f*ck how much you look like one
b*tch, it’s a difference
i don’t give a f*ck about them pretty blue eyes
i’m really crippin’
the only eye i’m worrying ’bout tonight is the witness!
and when it’s…
rap

[round 2: casey jay]
i said, geechi, you know i like to smoke
i’ll pull up on you whenever i get a chance
rob you wit’ this fo’ out like, ‘n*gga…i need every. f*ckin’. gram.”
i know gotti got bundles
give ’em up! don’t get me p*ssed off
’cause if i have a b*tch in a chair with extensions to her hair, it’s not a install
so left jab, uppercut * that’s just for tryin’ me
i ain’t hit a l!ck in a minute: i broke sobriety!
i’ll tie him down…but i ain’t tryna tame the n*gga
this nickel will take a quarter off him
you know b*tches be tryin’ to change a n*gga
this chopper’ll hit you and whoever hangin’ wit’ him
your son wanna be a crip too!?
bow! ’til he die from blue baby syndrome!
i’m not the right one to provoke
i know k!llers and drug dealers, but we were shooters the most
they showed me the stash spot for the guns and the coke
chris tucker, money talks: i buried (barry) white wit’ the toast
slash to his throat, i’ll finish the man
we got biscuits, poppin’, squeezin’ the can
take away his back end, like he was a no*show
the way that he waas screamin’ for god…thought he was loso!
but sh*t, it’s some sh*t that i don’t get, though

- urltv lyrics

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