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o'fficial vs. rum nitty - urltv lyrics

[round 1: rum nitty]
that third round for chess?! he was just talkin’ that sh*t
talkin’ to sis’
positive sh*t
but me? i’m with the complete opposite sh*t
now listen
we got rum m*th*f*ckin’ nitty vs. jessica fisher aka o’fficial
this sh*t gon’ get different
i won’t let a b*tch live
i’ll pull up where a b*tch live
big sig
pull a clip full of hollows like, “you must want this whole d*ck.”
no?
let me just put a tip in
i injure somethin’
if i lift it, she elizabeth warren, a b*tch is runnin’ on any platform, i get it bustin’
so fish’ll get walked up on wit’ the mac (mack) like i’m gonna git you sucka
gritty f*cker
i get to flippin’ out any minute
big ass .50 cal
if i say “i’ma k!ll you now” then i meant it
i even pull a pistol out on the b*tchеs
that’s just my type o*negative, anybody can gеt it
nitty trippin’
whole team come and shoot, mini smith &
i empty out and reload smooth
we cold, what the f*ck she gon’ do?
i spark sh*t, and i’ma air out cartridge when i see o too (co2)
you gon’ beat who?
ma’am stop
you shaped like a ham hock
nah, nah, nah, you built like dna tooth mascot
bet i put you in a bad spot
whoever had you winnin’, was trippin’, like lmao
laughin’ my ass off
i’ll pull up with the grey sweats on
so she can see the print in the front
she’s like, “is that a roll of money in your pocket or are you just happy to*”
“b*tch it’s a gun!”
but you can get banged that way
chest shot, i leave hearts filled when i raise my k
this’ll lay x n*ggas down, ain’t nothin’ plain (plane) i say
trip and this fly through o hair (ohare), you get the jfk
but wait, she actin’ like she really holdin’ a pistol
’til it’s your 2 on 2, i’ll back out a .40 against you
you fightin’ for ya dear life, the last moment suspenseful
and i’ll be there, to make sure you die
when the docs holler “flatline” i know it’s official (o’fficial)
aye, i load it and lift it
squeezin’ a gun, nina will dump
i shoot, and catch ya fam’ on the roof, they was waitin’ on fema to come
think what you want, i give a f*ck if it’s a female i’m reckless
it get rough next (‘ruffnecks’) i give an mc light (lyte) and stretch sh*t
close the left eye when the tec spit
after it fire i dig a hole and bury me a (mia) (e)x b*tch
but what you think i carry fo’?
i’ll let it go
if you say o won, i give o one
it’ll be one o, sound like binary code
i lift this 30 up and bang you
all the shots? comin’ from up top
the b*tch workin’ on her angle
come and get ya issue
didn’t the referees just cheat your team outta the playoffs?
not even new orleans f*ckin’ with official (o’fficial)
you can’t keep it real yourself
[round 1: o’fficial]
shoutout to all the fans that came
i praise loyalty
well tonight, y’all can call me chris brown cause i made royalty
you said you do it for the culture
you got the [?] of bacardi witcha?
i knew once i got rum i spiked the punch, now let’s get this party started n*gga
we coulda did this in new york but then you would be takin’ a chance
you took me in virginitty, now you raping the fans
tell ya b*tch it’s over cause this ratchet takin’ a man
and the kick, like jayblac it shakin’ my hand
i hope she there when the dezi pop
i’m givin’ subs like a deli shop
his blood spill on a scary thot
baow, now i done put rum on his b*tch, i’m takin’ belly shots
i don’t care if it’s north, east, southwest i drive to k!ll it
i’ll catch this b*tch in plain sight and arrive in minutes
he tried to jet,blue (blew) his top, now the sky’s the limit
everybody wanna trip until they see flyin’ spirit
so don’t come to new orleans, turnin’ up with ya best friend
cause it’s a no*flight zone n*gga if you forget to check*in
so if you sneak into the french quarters you better come with purses
i got guns for purchase
headshot, got me mixin’ drinks, i spilled rum on bourbon
scope a n*gga, like new neighbors
he on the porch, newspapers
now i gotta get rum after hours; bootleggers
if i black, defend a n*gga; luke cage him
i knew rum would be fire for the cake i souffled him
i stood in front of a natural dizaster, now i’m controllin’ the weather
i’m tryin’ to see who knock the most pins (pens) down like we bowlin’ together
if my n*ggas come you nitty (community) better hold it together
i’ll have b*tches runnin’ at geechi, tell that n*gga bay watch (baywatch)
y’all got your wires crossed that’s the reason they shot
i’m tryin’ to see a rapper unconscious; k. dot
but i’m too busy openin’ doors for these n*ggas; tay roc
yeah you high, but let me talk you down
your boo gotti passed you up, why you walkin’ ’round?
he started after you, but still the biggest talk in town
we can all see this b*tch behind geechi; coffee brown
i don’t need the cannons, the sticks, and the drum lines
i need personality, all that sh*t, more than one .9
cause he claude and ray gibson, he fake fire, but no one died
this battle i can’t get right, so i gotta step outside the gun lines
we already knew you was gon’ lose to dna, that was just us testin’ ya
yeah you bright, but my son (sun) shine better
bruh, versus top you lost, don’t shoot the messenger
after self*checkout, we had to get rum from the register
when i was young, i kept the pistol close when i was little
even when i stopped believing in the tooth fairy, i had the pillow over the nickel
i could put hands on this n*gga, that’s a foot massage
i ain’t gotta wait all (k)night to get a rook to slide
all his n*ggas had his back so i took his side
all my b*tches carryin’ the baby from one n*gga; sister wives
if i push arms around you gon’ get more than your cabbage patched
yeah i came to ring for the title, let’s have a ladder match
i mean i been doin’ this, i did what was needed, i never catered
and me battlin’ nitty is bigger than every hater
even if y’all feel like i lose, i’ma still be forever favor
ray rice, y’all gon’ see him beat a b*tch and (in) elevate her (elevator)
[round 2: rum nitty]
she be floggin’ like her hood really poppin’
like they just sellin’ bricks and catchin’ bodies
stop it
them n*ggas small time on o block like tekashi
whatchu like a triple f up top?
h*lla props
but the cakes caved in like chess and roc
guns by ya
i sit by ya home and catch o’fficial with the mask, i’m an umpire
you the one dyin’
you pokin’ ya chest out with nothin’ to back it up, come try it
and this gon’ be an o’fficial body* one sided
i’ve been cold, we got it poppin’, you (k)not a problem, like a lymph node
big pole, let a sig blow
smoke somethin’, i’ll flip and light her top up, then i zip o (zippo)
i wish you would try to play me wrong
then i show up to new orleans with this .380 long
and in the booth, it’ll be war everyday, make it a danger zone
here’s where the mission stops, switch the plot
crazy, they think battlin’ me is gon’ get you hot
b*tch it’s not, i’ll lift ya top
then i’m swervin’, the bootleg version, i’ll be out before o’fficial drop
lift the glock, let a shot go
you actin’ like you want smoke
cut it out, that’s fronto
if you die they can’t rewind the (rwanda) hands of time, no
you a goner (uganda) and what’s in the tim’ buck too (timbuktu), i’ma rock o (morrocco)
long pole, believe you f*cked
i don’t care how big a b*tch is, i don’t think you tough
you need to get a better bra to keep these two up
they laid out to the side like they od’d off drugs
i can’t pay attention when she speak her (speakers) knockers (knock hers) lean too much
aye, and you ’bout to get all the smoke
and take (so many punches the fans yellin’ get off the ropes!)
we slide instantly
that type energy from my enemies
.9’s stick wit’ me
ring on two b*tches i like bigamy
you’ll die literally, you a liability
close range, if i put it right by o (write bio), your life history
this is me
and i can tell you not ready fo’ sho’
i can tell how you wrote
but i’m a vet’ and when you facin’ an alpha, bet (alphabet) i can take you out your element o (lmno)
beretta’ll blow
she fall and still get clapped at
and whacked
i stand wit’ it, two feet over the body
you need your back cracked? this a handicap match
i can tie my left behind my back, facts
all it takes is one hand to mark o (demarco) out, like the smack app
she gon’ for sure gon’ die
your soul? gon’ get sent off the earth no lie
your body? cut up after
get the hatchet
this axe? somethin’ crazy like surf on live
to keep it real off topic
if i was drunk enough, i’d probably f*ck
like, “what the h*ll? what’s poppin’?”
get some head lil’ prolly
let her get on the bed then ride me
but if i put you in a 6*9, you better not tell n0body!
[round 2: o’fficial]
alright, i mean, i ain’t really come to judge a n*gga

[round 3: rum nitty] 25:45

[round 3: o’fficial] 31:00

end 34:00

- urltv lyrics

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