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joe vs. born - urltv lyrics

[round 1: joe]
yo, y’hear me? we good? we good?
richmond, what up? we good!?
i said, leading up to this battle, you had a lot to say
b*tch, you ‘bout to die today!
play wit’ me, a glock’ll spray
i’ll put a grip to the back of nuborn (newborn) head like i’m holdin’ a baby the proper way!
you’ll get drug ‘til you see the light
i gave him a ounce of hope
double*barrel, so the (soda) pop comin’ out clear like the fountain broke
dome shot!
i ice cats, just to sum it (summit) up like a mountain slope
oh, the vet get a shot?
well, dog gotta flee (flea) if i pull somethin’ out the coat
i’m ‘bout to smoke
i was on the bus with somethin’ tucked, thе large heater
a f*ckin’ bulldog, on thе greyhound: i’m a dog breeder
now i’ll admit you can spit, but you arrogant, thinkin’ you a lot better
so for that, it’s good riddance (writtens) to a primadonna (madonna) like a pac letter
the glock stretch him
lonzo: he felt the pops’ pressure
a shot soared (sword) across his chest like brock lesnar!
brand*new desert eagle, out the box
i picked it up right away so it’s not confusin’
and took the plastic off the bird nose: i’m tryna stop pollution
or i can pick up the old pistol, shot through the vertebrae
up wit’ the murder rate
no bullsh*t, this jordan on the wizards: you gotta deal wit’ the rusty .38
which reminds me, you lost your shine, and your hype, man: you got rex’s vision
i’m the next to k!ll him
a chopper come out the back, give him extra wisdom
or i can make him a special victim, wit’ a long blade
from across the room spear it (spirit) through the body like an exorcism!
i know your kind, you chase all these big*name battles just tryna get notarized
ain’t you face, like, half of writer’s bloque?
yeah, then it was chokin’ time
they left you immobilized
you get the point? when you go against the bloque (block), you ‘posed to rise (posterize)
dopest minds, we punch on the way to the punch
i don’t got filler
i’m a setup goat…like pac’s k!ller
f*ck you and who rock wit’ ya
i’ll prove you’re not k!llas
you’ll see blood runnin’ down chins like godzilla
but he beatin’ me? i’m not impressed
he’ll be scared of what’s in the shotgun like a driver’s test
or put two .5s in the air: “i confess!”
annabelle: if this little b*tch toy wit’ me, he’ll die from what i possess
i’m the best
get rocked wit’ fists!
ironic if i steal on you, i’ll (k)not your sh*t
wait, let me guess, he came with some race angles * stop it, b*tch
i’m white and bear arms: we polar opposites
all them long tales (tails) ‘bout you dumpin’? croc(k) of sh*t!
i’ll let a bullet zoom into your face like i cropped the pic
mini wesson tucked, the handle taped like a hockey stick
i’mma pop…and raise this black baby like i adopted it!
i’ll make your chest (chess) open up wit’ a round like, “we still cakin’ the f*ck up”
a whole team links wit’ the stick, like we makin’ a nunchuck
makin’ the gun bust
tempur*pedic mattress: if we get it jumpin’ on this side, you ain’t wakin’ the f*ck up!
the f*ck’s up!?
the chop’ loaded
that’s a auto tuned (autotune) wit’ 16s like a future verse
walk up, i’ll (aisle) pop up wit’ the blazer like a suit in church
a few disperse
reach for yours, we shootin’ first
so move a muscle, we start clappin’: mr. universe!
these rappers love talkin’ ‘bout their silencers
i’d rather let the sh*t go “bow!”
the gun made a ultra sound (ultrasound): i bet nuborn (newborn) get the picture now!
stop playin’ wit’ me, dawg!
let’s go!
stop playin’ wit’ me, dawg!
bow! a body shot’ll have this lil’ b*tch delirious!
the bullet hit born dead in the stomach like a miscarraige
i’m the sickest, period
dopest minds, man
[round 1: born]
first smack back, i got a wigger to back*smack!
i said, d*mn, smack, we finally locked an agreement
so many games played, i feel like i unlocked an achievement
y’all gave me a wigger who just copies elite pens
so watch how money bags (bagz) a white boy if it’s a homi you seekin’!
he’ll get severed (sevah) tryna hop in the deep end
he gave up his privilege tryna play wit’ the n*ggas
his mommy is weepin’
i’ll try and get stupid foul like i’m sloppy on defense
have this b*tch sweatin’ under arms: shoulda got wit’ the secret!
i threw the gloves on first, i won’t get knocked in the precinct
’cause any prints (prince) on scene, i’m assed out, so i caught this body in sequence (sequins)
guardians of the galaxy, you probably seen it
i got a ego wit’ the quill, but still, call me a coon and the rocket is speakin’
it’s friday!? who still (steal) boxes on the block for no reason?
he’ll pucker up for the glock when i’m squeezin’
watch a kiss land, ’cause the sh*t he live for get him shot by the weekend (weeknd)!
in the spot wit’ the heathens
all i see is rapid*eye movement * they not even sleepin’
this your last breath, see you inhale (in h*ll): they not even demons
these choppers brand*new: born not even t**thin’!
everybody is bleedin’, so if y’all flex hard, we let large tecs off
then leave your n*ggas lyin’ (lion) on each side like a cortez bar
nasty!
i blast heat ’til your core just gone
’cause catchin’ battery’s dead, p*ssy: the toy left on
the plastic came wit’ a body like toy s*x dolls
he won’t turn his head in a room if he feel a crook in it
’cause this the one you saw next (sore necks)…nah!
boy, step wrong
leavin’ j low (j. lo) in the plot ain’t enough, so we shootin’ the boy next door
slugs tore teflon
five .9s (5’9″) k!llin’ joe right in his tracks: that’s royce next song!
the choice is yours
hatin’ ’cause i pull wins
yu*gi*oh!: you wanted a monster on the card, it’s a duel, then
you got a style i perfected, that’s a full sin
believin’ in magic must’ve gave that clone confidence in that bull pen (bullpen)
listen, you might have fooled them wit’ that cookie*cutter flow
that style 50 percent mine, 50 percent trump and coke
abused in your pgs, all outta your comfort zone
we was forced to (foster) care
lil’ n*gga, you shoulda run from holmz’ (homes)
i said, listen, every sign, it’s a coffin (coughin’) ’cause of the stuff he knows (stuffy nose)
it’s all gucci ’til he get out the bars, then you realize he just a f*ckin’ clone
n*gga, i’m in hunter mode
a brain aneurysm couldn’t change the undertone
i see your redneck family, i up the chrome
k!llmonger: thinkin’ his heart shaped for the fire’ll get his cousins thrown (throne)!
’cause you know, he burned the herb to get his cousin’s throne?
you f*ckin’ colonizer, banana let 100 load
but the magazine keep droppin’ ’cause the gun is old
so i’m tapin’ clips on a mini chopper like a custom drone!
or we could fight if you want it, though
gloves is on
get his t**th broke between naps like a busted comb!
i said, this sh*t wasn’t close
that’s why joe got a stray bullet
gone since smack trashed my lotta zay footage
revamp that
n*gga, if you got a ‘k, pull it
suppressor * doot*doot*do*do*doot
you barely hear the rounds like my lotta zay footage!
on some real sh*t, you gettin’ k!lled, b*tch
one round down, you got two more to deal wit’
it’s alright, y’all ain’t gotta f*ck wit’ me * the bars fire!
the bars fire!

[round 2: joe]
i said, my last battle* we good?
my last battle…i ain’t really give a f*ck
i know that sounds wack
but we couldn’t agree on a price
and yeah, it’s nice to be on smack
but preppin’ my best three rounds for next to no money? non*facts
i coulda got franchise tagged, but i held out for a better contract
so now i gotta face this little f*ck
of course, mad typical
they said, “rap (wrap) circles around nuborn next (newborn necks): ambilical!”
come on!
we all ridin’, strapped wit’ the metal up top like a forklift
headshot, get buried (berry) wit’ your top missin’ like swordfish
war sh*t! long clip!
50 in the magazine like the forbes list
now what the f*ck can he do wit’ me!?
stomach shot, ’til his little body bends (benz): c250!
bow! left his head smokin’
.45 in the face…like greg oden
sh*t was traumatizin’
new .40, ad(d) in the clip like i monetized it
…and let that go like i don’t mind it
gimme at least a foot, or lose one
i like to work in sp*ce: it’s not rocket science
these new rappers hatin’ joe, but as far as greatness go, i defined it
and i’m not joinin’ y’all battle rap groups, i’m not a sidekick
it’s me, stranded, wit’ fire writtens: i’m on an island
but shout*out to the new class…
f*ck that! i’ll columbine it!
let’s go! now we go!
i’m out the trenches wit’ it! real reckless wit’ it!
catch born drivin’ his whip, send the car flyin’ when extensions hit it!
zeke elliott: soon as i hit that b*tch, the whole suspension lifted!
if i whip*
yeah! f*ck are you talkin’ ’bout!?
if i whip a piece, your boy finna skate
uncle phil comin’ home to the pool party: i’ll pop a toy off the waist!
you’ll be gone in seconds
get too close, i’mma draw the weapon
gordon hayward: white boy snappin’ off the jump if you move one foot in the wrong direction!
i came to war to (water) get the biggest body: pacific ocean
chest shot, his heart wasn’t in it: he havin’ mixed emotions
aks, .40s, glocks, i made a big commotion
bullets climbin’ up the ladder: they got a big promotion!
you not listenin’!?
shots hittin’ him!
or he can see the end of the tunnel, and the light glistenin’
the doctors said, “born…stay woke!”
he died ignorant!
all them lines about the tecs you dump?
in real life, this ain’t the kinda wreck you want
fendi belt: you go through hoops just to put on an f’in’ front!
you a light target
if i see your b*tch, i might spark it
or a gun*b*tt * (*smack*) * crack her (cracker) wit’ a mean handle: white chocolate!
i’m dead nice, born!
new .38, i’m the first one to let it go like i don’t want it
69 wit’ a b*tch: yeah, my nose got a body on it
who you came wit’? ytg?
ain’t none of y’all k!llers
i’mma run through the tape, with arms up, like marathon winners
tell that preachin’*ass white boy, a. ward, f*ckin’ wit’ me is suicide
i’ll stomp that fruit and serve him up as communion wine
grip the strap, find mickey factz, blast heat
then i’m droppin’ mike (mic) wit’ the sig (cig’): obama’s last speech!
dopest minds…b*tch!
[round 2: born]

- urltv lyrics

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