LYRIC
This nigga SMACK tryna vault my shit before it came out!
Everybody here, it’s Volume 2, right?
I need y’all to take out ya notes, we at the trap house again
I moved weight out da do', I weighed out the dope
But this time it’s that block work, straight outta boat
First I bagged Twork and now I gotta break down an O
So who we got?
Somebody to Get fly, on cam?
I’m gripping shit with both hands bitch it look like I brang out a drone
You look like you doing bad & you ain’t gotta phone
I’m from where they can’t post bail, so they take out them loans
And hold da white down harder than Raven-Symone
Whats up boy?
Everybody out here flagging? I don’t know
But True Colors gon get exposed Red and you a Tai Bo hoe
We don’t measure on any scale, so how does this add up???
But over time it’s gon’ show
You come up short… ohh, don’t nobody wanna eye ball O!!!
What's up boy? You better ball up, call up for May Day, aye
Cause we out here on them blocks and everyday they ain’t
Act “Trippy … RED” beefin' with the Trey Way/Wait Wait
I’ll put the hood on red necks (next) like da KKK!!!!
Who killin' shit, I'm swinging the pendulum, move militant
I see it in your eyes Red! You innocent
Got all these sports bars, yeah, he’s ignorant
How you reppin' Jersey but make the league minimum?
Nah don’t ignore that Red, see this is all facts Red
Cigar smoke on Court/Cort'; it ain’t Auerbach, RED
My respect! My top tier, I want it all back Red
You a D League, 10 day contract Red!
And ever since I did the salsa, chacha n bachata
The ese’s in the jail been screaming "Viva La Rassa!"
Papa, got me a chopper & it go "Rah Rah"
Mira Pendejo, prieto… no me joda aqui en mi casa
Oh Y’all want that Translation…
So that’s what’s owed to the fans?
Y'all should know I’m Puerto Rican, bitch I like to talk wit my hands!
Big B’s, I make lunch, I hit his cheek the blade drawn
We split screens, remain calm, bitch please
Play dumb? We spray bombs; sixteen
Raise one like teenage moms
I’m talking log jams, over the border it get across fam'
I’m insured to scheme over plates, it ain’t a car Scam!!
Big eight, make no mistake, you see the arms fam'?
Think Drake! You All Get Bucks, This Is Gods Plan!!!
You mad motherfuckin’ fèo
And yo life is a no go, O
Plus you got exposed for kissing hoes after sucking off the bro’s
Whoa that’s a no no, O!
Manonono monono mononono…..
Translation: WHEN IT COME TO BITCHES, YOU'RE A BOZO, O!!!!!!
Look at me tho', I ain’t lackin’
Look at Red suited for a Thriller, but I ain’t jack it (jacket)
Oh y'all hoping that O won?
Already he down 0-1
The clip drawn, a hit of da bong, it rip his whole lung
The Semi burst, cursed, the flame spark; hold one!
It “crack heads”, first name, Lamar…. ODOM (O dumb)
You’s a sucka, a child, hot air balloons
That means one flame from this pump will lift him up to the clouds
It’s funny how I air shit out, but it still leaves you under the ground
It’s like Vegas when I spray shit, why?
Cause all y’all gon catch one in da crowd
And you the next man to lay… bae too
Oh that was hard…you get it
Mandalay Bay?
Huh! That’s a bar
Then crack a jack (Cracker Jack) at ya bae roof (Babe Ruth)
No that’s a bar
For candy wrappers, candy clappers, burst two
Think Urkel, bitch Family Matters
Don't get ya torso Kriss Kross til it look like you standing backwards
Them bullets make U-turn…when they run through Red like ambulances
So like I said I appreciate you reaching out
But wait ‘til round 3 cause there’s some shit we gotta speak about!
[Round 1: O-Red]
O-Red vers' Yakman302
Smack what you be on?
This a lose lose tell this faggot move along
A lose lose for you I mean, you see
I could snap and do you wrong
Or choke every round and send you back where you belong
My whole squad turn into Ford
Choppers and the 4's
Clip full of bad apples, we ridin' (rotten) to the Cor'
I got my .30 cocked
With the extended clip it's a 30 shot
30 .30 pop, then Cor' up like a dirty cop
I told Smack, "Pay me and 'Tez can die tonight, son."
For a check, I leave Cor' wrecked (correct): you got the right one
Smack White, you know how I damage work
Ernesto? Premature ejaculator:
He couldn't even handle Twork
But he asking for me, knowing that I'mma chalk him out
You like that nigga that co-workers be talkin' bout
Who want his last strike, but him and the boss be fallin' out
In other words I'm the wrong one to be callin' out
Drive by, I make a movie scene when the Uzi sing
Put a round in a pussy, watch how you maneuvering (Nuva Ring)
Out the Caddy V, if 'Tez junior where daddy be
I let the [?] shots Nick Young-in' like Swaggy P
Think you the target when I aim it and pull it, not at all
It's for your son
I wrote his name on the bullets I just cock it and have a flock of these spawn
Clip loaded with bagels; That's a bunch of rounds with papi seed on it
Between me and you, your mother is a whore
She can cook, clean and suck a nugget through a straw
I love me a young thot, but they got nothin' on that slaw
That bitch handle the D like a Dunkin' Donuts door
She nasty!
What you ain't feeling it Aak?
You don't like it when I brag about me hitting her box
I don't give a fuck nigga get hot
I'm lifting the Glock
Hypothermia: I bet you core (Cor') temperature drop
Shot poppin', you bust in your mother room, without knockin'
This shot strapped for the cock blockin'
That dike bitch who be wit him jump out of the side pocket
I'm puttin' Ms Fit on a shirt like Hot Topics
Shit'll get graphic
Close range banging the clips
Two grips breaking her shit
If you got something to say to that bitch
You better head to the mall after these torches melt her
He don't get it?
BAOW! Meet her by the Lord and tell her
Murder Ave Gang? You niggas ain't killed shit
You got one Ms Fit in ya clique and it's a bitch
Ya homies? Soft, Cor': cable with the porn flicks
China men ear, the pussies get lifted with long sticks
Pull a nigga card quick, on some Yugi shit with the doolie disc
Hooligan, known for the mac like Max Julien
The toolie lift
Motherfuck bein' dubious
I'll clap a bull, 'matic pull
Right at 'em, Cor'…fuck up his nucleus!
I got this shit down to a science
You standin' there tryin' to battle me like you can be anything but a casualty!
Ain't no way in Hell this Latin out-rappin' me
I spit savagely, Cortez can never rattle me
That (*sniff*) all in my pen: I'm Zeke off of The Faculty!
I even got aliens tweekin' out, I know you see the clout
Aye Twork bro, I'll creep in this Puerto Rican house
Reach in his pregnant bitch pussy, on that [?] snatch back now she a [?] that mean the feet is (fetus) out
I caught Cor' on the back porch, he was sneakin' out
I'll pull the heater out then point it right at his freakin' scalp
Try to grab the strap BAOW BAOW
That's for reachin' out
After the third BAOW BAOW there ain't shit we gotta speak about
Jersey
[Round 2: Cortez]
That rap was cute….
But fuck that bitch if I clap a few
I’ll give him 11 to his back now let’s see what this MAC’ll do (McAdoo)
This the round where I ain’t playing wit cha
You and ya mans, casket to casket, they'll be laying witcha
Cut the games I’ll lay hands and feet on Red, we playing Twister
I catch Red wit his bitch, plot on they jewels
I'm cockin’ the tool
“Ayo Cor’ that’s his wifey!”
Ayo Smack I don't give a fuck if that bitch move
You know I’m poppin' her too
I ain’t wanna Diss O bae (disobey), but hey
That bitch best to follow the rules
You gon die as usual
Big drum, bangin' in concert
I wave sticks like I do musicals
One hits at his bitch like, “Psst….ma you beautiful”
And it’ll suit (shoot) up Red like Piru funerals
He can't breathe, Carlito style now you’s can’t leave
I lick a (Liquor) cold shot, straight to the head…yeah it’s brain freeze
I do dirt then change tee’s, for hood rats, my dame, grease
So you respect this “side bitch” or my “main squeeze”
I heard ya man Cal talking crazy, Smack that’s minor
I know only doing it cause I’m lit and my raps finer
But I dunno who sucking dick worse though, him or Blac Chyna
And when it comes to Surf
You can’t even mention his name to Smack tho
Like you ain’t realize I got fat yo
So why you keep feeding me snacks though???
You told me he "Lit” and I want “smoke” with anybody tryna roll up to back O (tobacco)
Oh JC said that?
That's great cause I got lines that go back to back O
Here’s a Hollow for anybody in da back to back O
Now that’s how you bring an Arsonal back to back, O!!!
Yeah boy hookah bars, I blow in da mist
Rounds cold (coal), so whoever want “smoke” get a “tip"
I get em tossed in da air for acting all rowdy
Pom poms and cheerleadin' but Smack, I’m the one that's catching a body!
I draw on this crown, shots crop his top
I’ll paint the streets wit Red, I’ll Basquiat ya block
Boy the sofrito hijo, let da chef cook
I’m from Murda Ave, but since i couldn’t Murda, Ave
Then fuck it I’m giving Red Hooks!
Volume 2 right, I told you Red, this ya best look
You gotta push from the fans on court (Cort') you think you Westbrook
But I’m da best out, head hunting
BAOW I'm taking head counts
So either check in or get checked out
I’ll hit him with X amount, he’ll be X’d Out
Malcolm X style
Meaning he gon’ burn & then die (dye) when I let it fry on Red scalp
This “Card, Key”, for small rooms and they just checked you in
To Cort' (court) yeard
So resort to the mess you in
You spent Days Inn that cell?
Cool, I’ll still get you sent, hit his Crowne and find Comfort pushing Red Roof in
But let this ho tell (hotel) it, it’s gas, they fuelin' the engine
I move wit' discretion, rude with aggression
All cause I ain’t viewed as a legend
Ruger my weapon
Pow! Pow!
With two in ya section
Who got the app, Smack? Let’s see if he can Uber to heaven
I don’t cringe cause you awful
Boy it's not an issue to off you
Cause everything spit from the orals fixin' to chalk you
I spit shit vivid, ya image cynic, I can cripple & corpse you
Then mission abort you
We shouldn’t even speak cause God’s don’t mingle with mortals!
What? I gotta break it down
You don’t see O Red?
I’m BORED! Don’t nobody be B.O-Red
I'm hunting wit' heat, so quit the fronting to me
O don’t hold no weight, that boy like the tare button to me
So if you talking real sick, then I'm offing ya clique
It’s multiple sclerosis bitch
That means everywhere I go, I gotta walk with the sticks!
So try it fast, he gon' die when the iron blast
Then slide out da hood on da low, like a hoe tryna hide her past
Shits real & I’m gon’ supply the tags and you gon' pay the price for that
Man purse
That means a long strap on the side with that MK its all Gucci Smack
Now that’s how you design a (designer) bar
And like I said, I appreciate you reachin' out
But wait til round three, there's some shit we gotta speak about
[Round 2: O-Red]
In that first round I was dancin' on Cort': "Half Man Half Amazin"
Second round you was fightin' back
This cat was blazin'
You was snappin' baby
Usually you be rappin' basic
Which one of y'all gave Cor' a line (Coraline) this bitch animated
I expected basic Ernesto, you know the one who told John John
"It's ironic this blind fuck ain't see this comin'"
First of all, when you blind as fuck you don't see shit comin'
That ain't irony
So the bar type wack
The irony is you havin' a smart ass mouth sayin' bars like that
Now me on the other hand, I'm the type to say some sensible shit
Like, big ass blade get ran across him
Slice a Puerto Rican neck for the power, I [?]
Or the lead pop one head shot from my can' will off him
Leave a Latin man hat in (Manhattan) sections: Spanish Harlem
Speakin' of Harlem, 'Tez?
How the fuck you lose to 2 of them 4 times?
You lost to 2 niggas 4 times?
You a scrub [?]
But I ain't tryna judge you
Yankee, I let a pair a 9's and I'm airin' (Aaron) Judge you
Or literally judge you
When bullets from the judge shoot
Out the chamber straight into Cort' (court): just like a judge do
Fuck you
You ain't even Supreme, you Municipal court
Gilbert Arenas: I got pistols for Cort' (court)
Beneficial with hella stripes I bring the whistle to Cort'
Have bullets riddle through Cort'
Or the blade splittin' you Cort'
Ninja Turtles: I drop a slice in the middle of Cort'
Fuck with me
Razor blade from under the tongue quickly
Get half of the G-Unit: Buck/50
Martin Luther King: my 9 violent
That one blizzy Arizona nigga with hot rounds: Rum Nitty
But speakin' of Rum Nitty: I tried to send a bitch to your room 'Tez
Shorty decline she said you the worst lame
She wouldn't let Cor' nail (Cornell) with Nitty first name
A head shot turn that bird brain to a shirt stain
But fuck you, let me talk to that Verb lame
I saw that Jersey poll that you made bro
In case you forgot, Ars was slumpin' you dirty
You ran off stage in Detroit cause you was duckin' the 30
And after what Twork 'bout to do, you ain't fuckin' wit' Jersey
Your Shine battle tell it all: you ain't got nothin' on jersey
The last nigga you bodied was…
You ass Cor'
Same day that I killed Ill, he did you bad Cor'
Biggest Latin NY rapper? You 'posed to murder guys
How you got Pun intentions but couldn't push a Verb aside
That's eight years ago right?
OK but last year, last year, after you bodied that Prez rapper
That L in front of ICE: head scratcher
You coulda took that chain and went on a long run stupid
You threw it, now it's a wrap for the chicken and cheese: Cor' done (Cordon) blew (bleu) it
But this nigga is salty, look at him emotional
He hatin' now, talkin' through my amazin' round
That's how you take a clown and break him down
Spanish nigga, flippin' off with the fists; he Vega now
Don't talk through my rounds sir
Where was I at now?
But he thinkin' he got a chance of smokin' Red
You sober 'Tez
I saw your last battle, that Christian rapper was smokin' Tez
I don't need to know why you front papi
You know you're dead
A. Ward fucked you up; Sergey Kovalev
This new Glock will school a savage like Mr. Feeny
The baddest 18 on the planet [?]
Beam on it for your bitch, I could clap shit up or smack a cunt
Black grip with the empanada like what you had for lunch
Smack bro you already know if me and him scrappin'
Change the "Red", my name to "Sama": I bend Latins (Bin Laden)
O-Red/Osama; never mind, you act live
I'll drag the vault all through the street like Fast 5
You really want this fade so act like it
Hybrid boxer I'm half Mayweather and half Tyson
Jab right him jackknife him and let the AC strike him
Leave fragments all in an esé (essay) body that's bad writing
I used to sleep with a 'volver under my pillow
All days layin' up with the spin the John Woo way
If y'all play I come to where y'all stay with a large K
Fuck the parlay I'm leavin' everybody that Cor' adore (corridor) in the hallway
Bodies on top of bodies I could do this shit all day
You heard me?
Jersey!
He tryin' to hype some shit
And now we know how you got ya name, cause you love to ride a (Ryda) dick
Champion of the year? Yeah?
That’s what y’all said right?
And 10K was the set price
Jay Blac, Tec 9 all behind him, he's the best, right?
He beat Showoff, he had a classic wit Brizz, he’s dead nice!
The best hype
See Smack that’s why I get tight
But it’s all Gucci, I'm only here to make green off of Red stripes
They said you 1 and I was 5, is y'all peepin' the task?
It's a flashback
It's 2003 in the draft
#1 Lebron James, the man, the attraction
But you're painfully lacking and needed me
Number 5 I’m D. Wade, bitch I made you a Champion
This round it’s time I’m break down the facts with Red
If it wasn’t for that bum ass belt and for what Champion said
This battle wouldn’t even have happened Red
The fuck y'all think? You really think Smack asked for Red?
He on his 6ix9ine shit, that boy just started jacking Red!
And speaking of 6ix9ine in his face is where lead’ll be drawn
This ain’t the NBA young boy so let it be known
A Lil' Pump if the tension is on
I keep a clip, you best believe that XXX extension is on
What you think?
You Muhammad Ali, you the greatest?
Smack it’s all a lie and that’s why I gotta snatch him of his title cause “The Champion” in his prime
Be scared to go to war when the cash is (Cassius) on the line
Wordplay
Cassius, Ali, go to war
Boy I’m making it Hell cause your name ain’t ringing a bell
You ain’t gangsta, you ain’t ringing no shells
So turning Muslim’s the only way you made a name for yourself Not me tho!
The more they would hate, the more I was great
I tightened my shit up and got the formula straight
Me and you in the same boat?
Hell no, we don't sorta relate
I’m the biggest Latino in the history of battle rap and you're nothing more than #4 in your state
Dead ass!
And Twork bout to take that spot, you 'bout to be 5 my nigga
Am I lying my nigga?
He talk about tendinitis, scoliosis… (skull of yo sis)
Twork that was fire my nigga
Cause those the symptoms I gave him when I retired the nigga
Fuck a vault! Respect was earnt
I had to take that, blood from all the lead I done spilled
You can’t erase that!
Big T, Daylyt, ASAP
Boy I’m talking brand new chilakaboo, who wanna face that (tat)?
You hyping him now, I’ll catch him right in da crowd and start sniping him down
My chrome like iPhones so back it up or I’ma put ya life in da clouds
I see ya mans, gassin' you, he’ll get pressed with lead
Fuck all them niggas I don’t wanna talk unless it’s bread
They keep grillin' like him, he gon' get left for dead
BAOW! He ain’t see the TECs (text) and now his thoughts got left on read/Red
And let's talk about you versus Bigg K
Cause there's somethin' I have to address
Wait lemme pull up, Skrrt! (skirt)
It killed/kilt me, you had on a dress
Battling me bitch you best to have on a vest!
Cause if I get Red boxed it won’t have an address
Lead ring, dead ‘tings
You ain’t no real champion, real champions, get rings
Yeah I played on ICE and now the goals to give Red Wings
I gotta new slogan bitch, so fuck you fakes, corny
Just keep doing what you do & stay the fuck away from me
It’s Brooklyn all day I keep it trill for that
Lick a shot for PH!
The real is back! [Round 3: O-Red] We ain't the same Ernesto
I'm the type to look an op dead in his face while he attendin' a wake
And sleep the nigga
I ain't never been a diva nigga
You? A Jordan 11 cat, patent leather black
White top and ice bottom, I know your kind
Cor' a sneaker nigga- you pussy
You pussy…you pussy! But talk like you order hits
You softer than Dora The Explorer, Madea daughter, Cor' a (Cora) bitch
Type to shoot himself to prove to the fans he been pourin' clips
Boss nigga? You lost nigga
Check your coordinates, and it's battle rap got a problem…and we 'bout to get to the Cor' (core) of it
'Tez! You remind me of Shawn Brown with the rappin' duke
You get on cam' and say more stupid shit than Battle Truth
Example: in ya Tay Roc battle you told him you would beat him wit' the same damn gun you gave Math for Mook
Then pose like it was the illest shit
I wasn't feelin' it
Told on you and your mans, told the fans to believe you real wit' it
We call that dry snitchin'
You get killed like that
It's a code but you don't know cause you built like that
You the type, get robbed and tell them niggas "Keep my work"
Or get locked and tell the cops, "Whatchu need? I'll chirp."
He ain't built for the can, he not Surf
You prolly get more bitch behind bars than the T-Top verse
Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!
You the type to be doin' some shit to look cool wit' a clique
I know a gangsta when I see one, and you is a bitch
{slight choke}
When I was out here in these streets, I was movin' with clips
When you was out here in these streets, you had to move in wit' Clips
Wait, wait, wait, wait, now I'm confused [Charlie Clips] Smack moved so they could see me too [O-Red] Now I'm confused, are y'all tellin' me, you went from Total Slaughter couch to Charlie couch?
Well goddamn Mr. Top Tier Money
You need some bread bro?
Sub Zero after the finisher, hold ya head up
BAOW! Now it's like I got evicted when the lead bust
I had the whole sidewalk covered with all that Red stuff
You don't want it wit' Red brah
I know a shooter from Atlanta; home thug
He'll let a clip bomb, whoever son call will die; Rick Grimes
No words, he wit' the shit, I'll send them to your strip slime
That rainbow wig on a Puerto Rican like 69
Two fours hit Cor' in the back Brent Grimes
Oh I take a risk on a sub mission, no [?] line
Deadbeat, he never saw the pop
Turn a Florida cop to a football ref' when he scorch ya top
The bullet I threw? Under review
Cause they don't know if it's caught or not
Y'all get it? They don't know if it's Cort' or not
I torture ops, catch him out wit' a shorty on Pizza Day
Swingin' a nine iron, no PGA
Pistol imitating Chris Brown, meanin' it's singin' ya Breezy way
Not this Puerto Rican princess; Stevie J
DNA…as far as DNA…you next
Smack set it, I got lead for him
Let's see if St. John can weather this Red Storm
I don't give a fuck how these clowns feelin'
If you give O-D on the next Volume he'll die when these rounds peel (pill)-
These rappers fishy, Smack usin' realer men to reel 'em in
Flex, Murder Ave won't like when I push your ceilin'
I give 'em six man, do you big nasty, I'm militant
Know ya roll player, 'fore they be callers; Williamson
No K's, just the pound, he get slayed, with a round
Black hearse, with a 20 car train for a clown
Think second Sunday in June before you lay in the ground
Just another Puerto Rican Day (they) Parade through the town
My squad will go to war wit' any chump
We got more ratchets than DMX second verse on What They Really Want
I'm talkin', Nina, Selena, Katrina, Sabrina
About three Kims; Latoya and Tina
Shelley, Bridget, Cathy, Rasheeda
Kelly, Nicole, Angel, Juanita
Champion Of The Year! Respect it nigga, I'm vicious
Murder Ave, huh he just rep it nigga I did, there's a difference
Look at him, he know he gettin' murked
There was no other option I had to throw him in the dirt
Second round was the eulogy, the third was the hearse
But you got bodied in round one, murder in the first
Jersey
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