lirik lagu king of the dot - arsonal vs. rum nitty
[round 1: arsonal]
y’all ready to say it wit’ me?
once again i’m here
i’m in another n~gga’s state
on another n~gga’s stage
up in another n~gga face
blat!
that’s the noise that .40 make
this ain’t a game rum, but i’ma bang a glock until the .40 break
extendo hold a hundred lil’ n~gga, just know shorty’s straight
insert that clip in, you snitchin’, you get hit with the first 48
i’ll have them baby locs come dive on ya body n~gga
feet first
or use the call of duty weapon, the one squeeze with the three burst
get yo’ ass a cheap he~rs~
silencer on my sh~t but it’s still loud
so every shot still sound like a meek vеrse
you 5’10”, you ugly than a b~tch and you rap loud
funny lookin’ n~gga
couldn’t find a boo, in a smack crowd
you said it cause you meant it, now own it causе this mack wild
when somethin’ on the line and you miss the shot that’s a shaq foul
i’m an iron dumper, the lion’s brother, go try another
my shotty bursts d~mn near everyday, this brian’s pumper
“oww” is not the safe word n~gga so try another
i’ll walk in front of your daughter and say, “lil’ b~tch i get my d~ck swallowed down to the b~lls…by your mother.”
straight like that
i just finished f~ckin’ she askin’ why it taste like that
your all wonderin’ why i’m all in your face like that
cause they believin’ that you is when you ain’t like that
man i’ll go upside his head with a bottle
while the remy open, suppressor make it sound like it coughin’, the semi smokin’
ya head really swollen
point blank period, without a question, you’se a mark who ain’t as real as just semi colon
now you’se a deadbeat
but in your mind it’s like, “who cares?”
every battle rap check you get rums you go and spend it on some new airs
you ain’t gave your baby mom a dime, she shed a few tears
i go over there with the .9 and give your daughter a f~ckin’ pop like she ain’t seen her father in two years
why don’t you send your k!llers to the spot that i be chillin’ in
cause i got shots for all them sweet ass n~ggas, who need that insulin
i c~ck, i put an end to him
that .40, shawn kemp in him
and you can get hit with some similar sh~t just for sendin’ them (synonym)
i’ll have your body all twisted
see this exorcism, nothing fake
have you shaped up like a pretzel rum
but i guarantee don’t nothin’ break
put holes in ya f~ckin’ face then it’s gunpowder all over ya pretzel shape body
i got him lookin’ like a funnel cake
ain’t you crip?
don’t you bang?
so you snitchin’ sayin’ names?
after that coin drop, i can get r k’d (arcade) for pressin’ my b~ttons and playin’ games
and most ya chokes, they light strangles
this a duel in the desert
it’s 90 degrees out this b~tch and you still ain’t gonna come at me with the right angles
first round
my sh~t is real, my sh~t is raw, my sh~t is authentic
you can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that “ars” in it
[round 1: rum nitty]
now my king of the dot debut…i choked twice
but i’m still on the come up, i don’t play
cause i went on to battle b~magic, o~red, and a rex, see ya (anorexia)
n~gga like me couldn’t stomach gettin’ ate
let’s get it straight
in order to break you down, they had to send a grape (disintegrate)
lift an .8
b~tch i’ll pullup and bus(t) like elimidate
i even let prints on the .40 tryin’ to get the can’
tied him down
since he old dawg (o~dawg) he had to get the tape
this n~gga fake
nitty off the wall like a ricochet
it’s pistol play if this b~tch showoff (show off) like ricky lake
so go ‘head
get in my face
that don’t intimidate
i hit a grape in his melon with this banana clip, i eliminate (eat lemonade)
how’s your slogan about “bars” when you don’t at all spit ’em?
you’re a coffin cadillac ride to the dirt, that’s a “he~rs~”
somethin’ you can’t spell without puttin’ “ars” in it
my squad real, give you that mob feel
no college funds, my n~ggas ran the streets until we got tar heels
i run up, and off steel
he had his shorty beside him
tell him, “move a foot and see (n.c.) ya baby blew (blue)”; north carolina
some of the o.g.’s be off that p.c.p
you know, dip the cig’, got it slowly burnin’
remind you of a defensive back from the seahawks
you might catch him with a deuce~five, on the corner shermin’ (sherman)
that’s west sh~t
that n~gga nitty go hard
every line he actin’ out with the semi
i can’t just give ars’ any old’ (~rs~nio) bars
i heard some crazy sh~t, about ya boo player
they said she’ll burn you and give ya d, vd (dvd) like a bootlegger
a couple bands, have you folded up on ya line, that’s newspaper
this .9’ll crack ya scalp
forget what you was mad about, this a mood changer
and i keep it tough
if a n~gga trip he get sprayed
daylyt vs. t~rex, if this sp~wns (sp~wn) outta control i’ll pull that sh~t on the stage
if we face off (faceoff), you’ll need a ghost writer (ghostrider) or this b~tch’ll get slayed
cause that mac i’m raisin’ on a n~gga (raising arizona); nicholas cage
off top, you can get it in ya lid
but you’ll be a lucky square, if i ain’t get to flippin’ with the cig’ (sig’)
real sh~t n~gga, get it how you live
but after how hitman did you, i don’t get it, how you live?
i take a louieville slugger to the middle of ya wig
they’ll have to alcohol the gauze and dab the hit like it’s a rig
arsonal undercover
man that sh~t needs to stop
that’s down and dirty, i’m alex murphy, i’ll steal on a cop
i kinda do this sh~t, i’m still on the top
but all them n~ggas you get bank wit’ (banquet) can see me pull a mil’ (meal) out a box
real sh~t
you can’t keep it real yourself
n~gga suicide or i’ll do the job
(you decide, k!ll yaself!)
[round 2: arsonal]
you’ll be madder than a motherf~cka if you knew how much they was payin’ me to battle yo’ broke ass
teddy said, “finish him…in six minutes flat.”
i said, “so fast?”
well y’all know i keep a ratchet like a b~tch wit’ no class
welcome to the big stage
this is something’ you ain’t never seen before (cb4) since you comin’ ‘straight outta locash’ (low cash)
my gun a pro, that’s beyond rookie level, cause i’m the man nitty
that hammer cursing it wave in front of him i let that pro~fan nitty (profanity)
where my cut?
you get your income taxed, i uncle sam nitty
my tommy will bust before it get to see pam titties
now, how you on the stage with a vet?
when it come to wins you got a low percentage
don’t speak unless spoken to young bul, you gotta know the business
he look like the n~gga that tried to tell on solange, jay~z co~defendant
funny thing is, he always did wanna grow up to be a jehovah (jay/hova) witness
d~mn, when you battlin’ a n~gga this ill, you must control the sickness
i mean, you gotta keep at least a (lisa) maggie ’round, like you was shootin’ with homer simpson
lisa, maggie, oh bart, i ain’t forgot you
cause it’ll be art straight up once his mother get her top blew (blue)
grown man sh~t
now paint that picture n~gga
visually, visibly, see it vividly
oooh sh~t nitty, i just had an epiphany
if you talk about a n~gga past he only makes history
two ratchets shootin’ together, that’s a salt~n~pepa symphony
you ain’t built for this sh~t nitty and i don’t mean to sound cliché
but when you battled my brother o~red, that was your d~day
you versus rex? that was the replay
i’m feelin’ like only way battle rap for rum is otbva
my pistol clap
you do a n~gga like me wrong i’ma get you back
like b~tches gettin’ tattoos on b00bies, i’m tit for tat
n~gga said i look like whoopie
whooo! how sick is that?
lift the strap, he don’t want none, let’s see how his sister act
i gave her all her shots, got me feelin’ like a nurse
the mac got a shoulder strap, that sh~t was feelin’ like a purse
ya baby mother blessed this whole cathedral, got it feelin’ like a church
everybody in here got blew (blue), now we feelin’ like the smurfs
that b~tch a wh0re ah
i said, horror, no sci~fi
them seven days you and ya baby mother was arguin’, everyday that b~tch stopped by
what? i gotta put it on my set n~gga?
why lie?
why don’t you bring that b~tch to my crib to see how fast her phone connect to the wi~fi
haha
f~ck yo’ b~tch and the clique you claim
east coast out this b~tch, grape street crip the gang
my sh~t is real, my sh~t is raw, my sh~t is authentic
and you can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that “ars” in it
[round 2: rum nitty]
real sh~t, i don’t even need a squad cause i be goonin’ by myself
although the lord is my shepherd i be shootin’ my myself
above the rim, shepard, he was shootin’ by himself?
is this what you want?
n~ggas play nutso knowin’ they was dead from the jump
this pump’ll do you in dirty like nelly spelt it
let’s see if the funeral home can loan (cologne) out a box like perry ellis
you will get buried helpless
cut the cams so the fans can’t see death (deaf) like helen keller
i’ll leave, come back flashin’ wit’ the strap
at his do’ like “guess who”, then gave that ass ten (ashton) like with the mac
i treat a n~gga like a thief he gets stealed
lead pop, leg shot, f~ck around take a knee like a kneel
my head hot, i can’t keep it concealed
you playin’ tough? mercedes front, it’s lookin’ like the piece (peace) in ya grill
so off battle rap, you can really get a sh~ll for talkin’
f~ck the parking lot, i’ll let it fire in the building
but i ain’t goin’ to jail for arson’
stomach shot, it’ll splash like he belly floppin’
you flexin’? cool
the lead’ll (letter) go through you like mail department
this exactly where you lose ars’
make a move ars’
if i get p~ssed then (piston) you ’bout to meet yo’ doom ars’ (joe dumars)
tools sharp
i sticks to the hustle like a pool shark
tools spark
you’ll get plain (plane) smoked like k~mar
boy i got a gun so big
(how big?)
i can’t aim right
security caught me draggin’ that b~tch off the elevator like ray rice
if you’re in plain (plane) sight, i’ll take flight
or let it ring with the steel like a cage fight
i’ll really take it there, you ain’t ready
see the ginsu, split you, then sticks through
the coroner zips you up like a pair of giuseppe’s
before i go for the gusto and blast at your arson’
i’ll let you know i’m an expert with this knife work, that’s a stab master arson’
you will get carved up, trash bags and garbage
no evidence, i threw the match after i gassed that apartment
you don’t want gunplay
n~gga stop
that’ll get you rocked
soon as he go to reach he’ll get the dot
clipped up
got a drum on the glizzy glock
reverse curtis jackson, this .9 got a 50 shot
if a n~gga even lookin’ wrong, i’ll have to spaz, dumb out
you dig me? head on collision
that staring will (steering wheel) make the bag come out
my n~ggas get to gang bangin’, then the flag come out
just know i’ll leave a f~ckin’ p~ssy bl~~dy if that rag come out
real sh~t
you can’t keep it real yourself
n~gga suicide or i’ll do the job
(you decide! k!ll yourself!)
[round 3: arsonal]
what did the deadbeat dad who was scared to pull the trigger say?
“i should’ve popped”
ain’t you crip my n~gga?
after this you gonna take me to the hood or not?
[rum nitty]
god d~mn right
[arsonal]
you’se a west coast gangsta my n~gga, who is you? suge or ‘pac?
you more like math hoffa f~ggot ass
after this disaster (dizaster) all you gon’ try to do is sue soon as the footage drop
rum ain’t too good wit’ magic, we know this
hocus pocus
but that fossilized dinosaur rex was over focused
he said, “ars’, rum ain’t winnin’ another battle until kobe coaches.”
ever since then this n~gga couldn’t get back straight; scoliosis
i should make him run
n~gga you wouldn’t pull a trigger on a staple gun
let’s throw hands at your residence
this n~gga only wanna box in his living room once the cable done
you cried for a main event battle n~gga, i gave you one
i gave you a shot, then more fire, more fire, that’s jamaican rum
i know this
when you ain’t in front the lens it’s something different about ya grammar
your accent change, ya posture straighten and ain’t no whippin’ out the hammer
you must be suge or think you ‘pac
cause when the media present you turn gangsta and start spittin’ at the camera
f~ck breakfast, let’s get right to lunch
his name “rum” i’ll get him nice and drunk
brace knuckles cover the fore front, that’s how you spike the punch
swear to god at vendetta suge ain’t f~ck yo’ b~tch n~gga
[rum nitty]
swear to god!
[arsonal]
you lyin’, you wiped the junk
and from the way that b~tch love ridin’ shotgun, she don’t like the trunk
what it do nitty?
they said you crippin’, is it true nitty?
well your baby mother said you ain’t never read (red) your daughter a story but you ready to die over that blue, nitty?
you’se a deadbeat, doin’ dumb deals yo’ dumb ass daddy didn’t even do nitty
i’ll have you down in this desert decaying daily for $250
cause i call the shots
then i dial up yo’ b~tch when they say, “call a thot”
me, rob and ray, bang, bang, bang, shawn and marlon pops
he’s like, “that’s okay, if that’s all y’all did.” of cause it’s not
that b~tch f~cked all three of us n~ggas just for some jordan socks
how unorthodox
i’m just waitin’ for the day that your coffin drop
i’ma have to send everybody in yo’ group home if i’m forced to (foster) pop
“group home”? “foster pop”? of course it’s hot
larkin shot [?] strip tease, why’s that?
it’s takin’ off a top
now last night, i got to arizona, rum had two b~tches over
all they wanted was some green though
keep in mind y’all, these is his b~tches, he bagged at the casino
i’m like, “how y’all doin’? my name ars’.”
they like, “we know.”
long story short both them b~tches sucked my d~ck he ain’t get no neck, they treated him like benzino
but when it come to this industry, here’s the facts that we know
ain’t no love in hip hop, we can scr~p for free though
you comin’ at me?
me?
i shoot you, record it then leak it now that’s aniko
i trapped a kilo
i get a pack from pico
i heard you sniff i can get you to a line n~gga, that’s a free throw
i’m old school ’til the game playin’ n~gga, that’s coleco
what’s in this clip will ‘make ’em say uhh’, even master p know
d~mn rum, i’m cognac drinker, i can’t stand rum
i’m out here tryin’ to f~ck while you fingerin’ b~tches until yo’ hand numb
d~mn son
before you took this battle you should’ve built yaself, it wasn’t suicide
i did the job, you should’ve k!ll yaself
my sh~t is real, my sh~t is raw, my sh~t is authentic
no, no, no, no, no
mommy told me when you speakin’ to a b~tch you gotta make it rain on ’em first
my sh~t is real, my sh~t is raw, my sh~t is authentic
you can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that “ars” in it
[round 3: rum nitty]
i said if you asked me, this is exactly what this n~gga earned
actin’ like you wanna go against us…sure (usher)
you make me wanna ‘let it burn’
battle like gettysburg
every word
get the alaskan cap cause you don’t know where you headed for (head in fur)
get this work, a three piece will fold ya
if ya g swing it’s over
i’ll lean him like promethazine and a three liter soda
i hit the scene with the beam, me and two of my g’s squeezin’ on ya
that’s three glocks, three dots, mi vida loca
you know i’m strapped n~gga
i’ll leave yo’ (leo) ass dead if you ever go (virgo) against the taurus, i’m a zodiac k!ller
so what the n~gga got some build on him
i’ll still bomb him
grab him and throw that ass in a ‘circle’ like lil ronny
that mil’ on me
who cares if he wrote somethin’ k!ller for me, that’s grave robbery
meaning that’s still (steal) a body
you feeling froggy? that .9 dump
b~tch i go to work with the clip like a vine comp’
pause, who want it? line up
you’ll wind (wine) up red, that’s merlo
i ain’t switchin’ up breaks but he a prison inmate you could’ve got this work for low (furlough)
you make me wanna shoot a m~th~f~cka
we r~t~rded strap
you’ll get the arm, stupid m~th~f~cka, no
we r~t~rded strap, you’ll get duuuh arm you stupid m~th~f~cka
and i bet he fits in the trunk like a booster m~th~f~cka
you don’t want it, two ‘matic will pop
get outta line, a pair of lil’ (parallel) .9’s put you back in ya spot
i had to scratch the serial (cereal) number off the straps that i got
it pops, that’s ya life, you’ll get bagged in a box
i’m from the west west where n~gga bang sets, aves, streets, blue bandana
red flags, you cross the line that tec blast
t and cube, i had to ice n~ggas if they trespass
you dig me?
get slashed
a big blade will line you up nice for all that rif raff
listen, calicoe, troy mitch~ll and ness lee
ah my bad, i ain’t spit it correct
meaning, if you shoot my strap throwback
this calicoe mitch~ll and ness and i keep it wit’ me
everywhere that i go
if that piece come off the hip he smokin’ like the 70’s show
now i know
n~ggas get tired of all the gunline talk, but that’s just life
all i know is tell ’em about the gunline boss
i let it off
get a mouth shot from this chopper boy
from bumpin’ your gums
little pieces of your cheek lay everywhere like it’s rocky point
oh you wanna be a m~th~f~ckin’ funny guy
my g’s we, come by
chase him down three streets, gun high
for clowin’ that mil’ follow you dc young fly
real sh~t
you can’t keep it real yourself
n~gga suicide or i’ll do the job, you decide
(k!ll yourself!)
Lirik lagu lainnya:
- lirik lagu unknown artist - little music bags
- lirik lagu leanna crawford - better yet
- lirik lagu obedov - dmc
- lirik lagu lidoryc - battle royale
- lirik lagu gewohnheitstrinker - schlägerei
- lirik lagu luvcat - ballad of the damned
- lirik lagu mf (pol) & areyou0kay - mekka
- lirik lagu shredgang mone & bandgang masoe - bgsggb
- lirik lagu lil tristo - keep it p
- lirik lagu mahyar - dorooghe