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lirik lagu geechi gotti vs. chilla jones – urltv

[round 1: geechi gotti]
we got geechi gotti versus…n*gga you’se a b*tch!
and you know you in trouble
whoever let you come out here, the must didn’t love you
.38 to the face
remember we gave real deal the chain? it’s gon’ be the second time i snub you
n*gga slug you
don’t talk, or you goin’ over the edge
fans confused like, “thought it wasn’t no distractions on the roof. so how’d he get thrown off?”
the .4 spark
bullets go through flesh and break bones
two .40’s, you get the ugly modеl; grace jones
man i hate jonеs, i should sock chilla
pistol whip him
find out how that glock feel
he thinkin’ we cool, wanna kick it, i’d rather (k)not chill
the glock’s steel
and it came with a drum clip
shoot you and whoever you run wit’
keep shootin’ until the gun cl!ck
paramedics wanna make sure this p*ssy good, they better come (cum) quick
dumb b*tch, you a fool to me
knock him down, keep shootin’ him ’til he’s stankin’
the body odor (older); it hit p*b*rty
you a fool to me
the tool wit’ me
you know i don’t play fair
it’s plenty straps in the house if i stay there
so many .4’s in the crib could run a daycare
n*gga, take care
you walkin’ to the gang land so where is you from?
n*gga so what
bucket under ya chin for what you throw up
hol’ up
the .50 blast, all head shots
told my n*ggas, “all i want is the dome”, like the p*ssy trash
wit’ yo’ goofy ass
back in the days i would’ve robbed you, really had you shook too
man, i set this battle up, so in reality i still booked you
look fool, you can get shot tonight, be a vegetable by the mornin’
i’m talkin’ brain dead, not workin’, it should file for unemployment
when i shoot? i enjoy it
i be smilin’ blastin’
you should be used to this
you used to not gettin’ no crown reaction
on god i’m spazzin’
he gon’ die when the steel blast
bad teacher how i hit him wit’ an f and he still passed
this n*gga chill trash, and he been a hater
i’ll air this sh*t out like a ventilator
it was a casket, ’til y’all seen chill in a box; nasa refrigerator
i been told y’all, i didn’t have to read no book to know how great gats be (great gatsby), i’m just realer than y’all
soon as i pull it, surprise (pulitzer prize)
chances are your empire falls
just like i said n*gga, i just found out ski masks were for f*ckin’ skiing and i wasn’t lyin’
but didn’t matter cause if i wore one, either way i was gon’ be slidin’
and when it’s real y’all can tell
you can see it in they eyes, yo’ turn, see if you can make n*ggas believe them lies
n*gga time

[round 1: chilla jones]
n*gga you’se a….man of many names
i can’t pardon facts
geechi gotti, bay loc, well where’s marcus at?
cause today, it’s no clemency, roger that
we one on one, let’s get the flex poppin’ like kyla pratt
i’ma body bag bay, on the east we don’t do(o) rags
the west started that wave
a brave hawk can get ya face blew (blue)
but ya heart ain’t that brave
the old steve harvey, he never wanted parts in that fade
so you cleanin’ house wit’ the mafia? see how gotti act made?
thinkin’ he sick when he not with these hypochondriac ways
you and them is not the same p*ssy, this a copy cat phase
how you never got trained on the streets, in the bay area where them trolley tracks laid
i’m an insomniac, can’t sleep on him, so one afternoon
i turned on gotti vs. ward and that match was doomed
tried to psych ward out by being nutty
then got put in a box like a padded room
actin’ goon like you strapped wit’ arms then y’all straight jackin’ (jacket)
well take action
off the rum, i’m insane rappin’, the gang clappin’
we shoot bay then (bathing) ape zip up his whole hood, now who wanna die in the same fashion?
you clashin’ with harambe, we gettin’ live outta nowhere
whoever stand in front of my palm pay (pompeii) the king like lebron j
this star bucks (starbucks), now i’m sizin’ up coffee, this a grande
before this would occur (forest whitaker), tryin’ to get y’all to look at me the wrong way
just know a bullet had the last name rising (risen) like andre
you wanna grace jones with your presence; stronjay
the sk!ll is (sk!llet’s) fire; i was cookin’ wit’ rum; flambé
mad nights i ain’t even wanna write, i had long days
but why go off the top like jin, when i could bomb bay (bombay)
arms spray from the hospital where his mom’s lay
i pulled the plug and threw (‘through) the wire’ like kanye
she lived a ‘good life’
but ‘i’m heartless’, no ‘mercy’ with this type thing
it’s a hazard if i ‘drive slow’, whatchu think those ‘flashing lights’ mean?
i ‘heard ’em say’ he got a supa dupa scope
well then two words, “snipe king”
oh they’re ‘stronger’ i’m hittin’ ‘n*ggas in paris’ with ‘ultralight beams’
‘monster’ ‘power’, make ’em ‘touch the sky’ like a flight scene
he’s so ‘appalled’ how i write clean
see with twork, i did chris brown songs, that was a tight theme
but since you push yay’ (‘ye) out west i figured that was the right scheme
i’m goin’ ‘h.a.m.’ but let me flip that
i’m c*cky with the rifle power
this sh*t’ll cl!ck, and land mark (landmark) in paris like the eiffel tower
stifle cowards
it ain’t a plus if you cross me physically
lift your spirit up for nothin’, it was complimentary
turn gotti, kennedy
he’ll get the head shot, all in memory
pistol whip him, y’all gon’ have to give his jaw some dentistry
how i beat his ass, but kept the meter full
tell nitty that’s a flawless victory
no subliminal, talk specifically
leg shot, hit the calf and ate it (decaffeinated) if i didn’t like coffee energy
so call me enemy
like ya f*ckin’ squad the truth
n*gga there’s nothin’ y’all can do
you rep the nuts so (nutso) guess who’s jumpin’ off the roof?
one

[round 2: geechi gotti]
we both started in the pg’s then went main stage
i just did it in less time than what it took you
and it’s crazy cause, you been here, but at this part of your career, i’m considered a look for you
and this is true
your career was on the f*ckin’ shelf
we only acknowledge that you got a pen cause you ain’t got nothin’ else
no style, no stage presence, that delivery need plenty help
can’t write a hit record, so without battles you’d prolly k!ll yoself
n*gga i should snuff you
type of n*gga that tell b*tches you battle rap so they can f*ck you
weird sh*t
n*gga, i’m ashamed to be peers wit’
and that’s just facts
why don’t you tell these n*ggas how you lost the chain on purpose so you could come rap on smack
you f*ckin’ goof ball
king of the dot was the perfect place for this white washed black n*gga
least you was the champ over there
you came over here to be an app n*gga
that’s why i wanna slap chilla
did exactly what a fame wh0re’ll do
turned your back on the league that was doing way more for you
go ‘head, win this battle, i’m still gonna be gettin’ paid more than you
n*gga you ain’t a big name
sh*t, you just a n*gga that can rap good enough to make this match make sense
the checks i get from smack pay rent
i’m eatin’ like the mob
you barely gettin’ by, that’s why outside of battle rap you still got a job
and i ain’t knockin’ n*ggas with 9 to 5’s cause that’s where they grind at
but see i get paid enough where i don’t gotta punch that clock, but never mind that
whatever they gave you, i’m gettin’ at least three times that
i’m confused
y’all said he got such a great pen, how come he didn’t use it to sign a better contract
n*gga this is beyond rap
i’m talkin’ life decisions
you a middle aged battle rapper who look like michael bivens
and i ain’t kiddin’
this is real sh*t, you think you a headliner but a n*gga from boston should be able to sell ticks (celtics)
but you a frail b*tch
all in my face talkin’ crazy, glad i don’t f*ck you up
you extra blessed
homies right here gettin’ extra stressed
losin’ they composure tryin’ to understand how the crip can control mines (minds) like professor x
you ever been next to death?
i mean, on the field when a soldier dies?
or locked for a k!ll, praying they bond your name like goldeneye
how do you compose those lies?
like i mean, writing gun bars, knowing you never shot a gun
it be n*ggas like you that don’t even got a gun
n*gga i got a son, matter of fact i got two
and i pray they never grow up to be anything like you
a straight pretender, writing raps with a fake agenda
claimin’ he tough but the whole time, man’s a b*tch; caitlyn jenner
i really hate this n*gga
i’m oh so serious
how do you write gun bars, knowin’ you never shot a n*gga?
bro i’m curious
you don’t think that’s disrespectful to n*ggas like me that’s writin’ from they own experience?
man fool’s delerious
he thought, if he didn’t rap about guns then his raps wouldn’t get respected
he thought if he didn’t write gun bars then his bars would get neglected
in the streets, if i didn’t shoot with my n*ggas i couldn’t kick it
i guess we is the same, we had to use them straps to get accepted
see this where sh*t get hectic
because when they say you got a pen, i’m guessin’ they right
cause you gotta be an author with them stories you write
and they make believe, i know they false
i’m one of them n*ggas you can’t make believe
that you’ll actually shoot a n*gga and shake the scene
or stand over him while you make him scream
and go home with no emotions and go straight to sleep
see i don’t think, that you will shoot a n*gga unless your life was on the line or for your family
i’m pretty sure that’s what you gon’ do
but my n*gga look, there’s a difference between shootin’ a n*gga cause you have to and shootin’ him cause you want to
b*tch and when it’s real, you can tell, you can see it in they eyes
go ‘head and rap and make n*ggas believe them lies
n*gga time

[round 2: chilla jones]

- urltv

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