LYRIC
“If a nigga wanna see that Holla and Verb
Put that money up and I will not serve”
So what the fuck are we battling for, Verb?
Those few bars alone already prove you not a man to your word
You created who, me? Nigga I perfected my grind
‘Cause Word War was yours but it was technically mine
I had the most wins, put in the most money, battles stay packed
Did the most views, I’m just naming facts
But the long story short, for the people that wanna know
It was Aye Verb’s stage, your boy just took over the show
This ain’t for the king of the city, I did this for whatever cash
Cause I can’t take a crown from him that he never had
We could take the streets and keep it rap, it’s whatever Chaz
But make the wrong choice, you gon’ leave here in a leather bag
Aye pops, niggas calling my phone, I’m like “y'all don’t know Nathan”
Handle what situation, Aye Verb? I got a degree in communications
Hit ?? off the dresser, I wish you would test us boy
I’ll expose Verb like an English professor
You probably gotta step on me in lyrics, that’s what you do the most
But delivery and quotes? Ain’t even close
Performance, I got you beat by a hundred votes
They laugh at you, not with you, you motherfucking joke
Now I could’ve got personal but I chose not
And it’s BMG gang, we something you hoes not
Close curtain how you get certainly closed in a box
Better do some soul searching or get your soul shot
You will never run the streets nigga, I’m a roadblock
A couple niggas wanna call your bluff, I should auction you
But I told niggas he cool, that’s what bosses do
But watch what you say in your rhyme, be cautious dude
Cause I’ll forget it’s rap and stop your verse like “who you talking to?”
It ain’t a street bone in his body, he’s not what he seem
I punch niggas with no warning then smack this as a team
And you look kinda confused, let me show you what that mean
My set, no playground so I ain’t gotta get pushed for me to swing
It’s a lot of weapons I could slay y'all with
The black gloves, rubber grip with the radar chip
I come to one of Verb parties with the AR clip
And shoot soon as I get in like I’m J.R. Smith
Fuck it, I'ma remix it
It’s a lot of weapons I could slay y'all with
The black gloves, rubber grip with the radar chip
The black gloves, rubber grip with the radar chip
I come to one of Verb parties with the AR clip
And shoot soon and shoot soon and shoot soon
And shoot soon and shoot soon as I get in like I’m J.R. Smith
Matter fact you a bitch, man up, you need to bark when you bite
You was a sucka back then, you a sucka tonight
At any time you feel tempted, it’s nothing to fight
I cut his ring off, my footwork tougher than Mike’s
By the time you two agree, you get snuffed with a right
You marketable, I’m remarkable, we’re nothing alike
And you act the way you act because your mother’s a dyke
??
I ain’t an STL rookie my nigga, they threw the best on him
Looking around, one of the niggas that put the vets on him
Let the caps fly on stage, go Rex on him
Cash on his head, got money orders and checks on him
Nigga you a bitch, no reason to pull a Tec on him
I’ll put him way in the whole, I in debt homie
You old ass clown just an old ass now
Let a young nigga shine, sit your old ass down
I know I said I could’ve got personal but I chose not
I was talking first round, second round it gets hot
Ballgame
My first thoughts, “Holla? Nada, my nigga, go get a clearer view”
He said “It’s Holla, I’m watching, go watch it”, instantly I got hot
Like “This emotional, seven day menstrual move
Weak pencil move having, disloyal, bitch-made, fool-ass punk!”
Clicked the link to the interview to see what he trying to get into
And this nigga says… “I’m mad at Verb cause he ain’t come to my Arsonal battle
He ain’t call me in seven months”, some shit a bitch would do!
It’s pitiful how a million views could change Holla to a different dude
But to me, he still the same bird-ass nigga who never got bread, not even pigeon food
He down, they call me from the loan, he who I give it to
When his baby mama cheating on him with other niggas pitching ?
I’m the shoulder he cry on, I’m the nigga who listen to him
Despicable cause this lil’ nigga, I used to fuck with
Even would’ve gave my liver to, nahhh that isn’t true
But anywho, I gotta lynch this fool
Throw him in hot water like instant food, heavy like instant ooh
Y'all got him chose, I get him chewed, this bitch confused
This round here, I got the motherfucking juice
Bars! Nigga I’m witches’ brew
Lyrical chichi-boom, give him another hole to whistle through
Aim that cannon flash, still shot, no picture move
Holla, killing you gon’ hurt me way more than it’s gon’ get to you
I carefully crafted these rounds, later give him that lyrical shower
First, for the villain to beat the superhero, you gotta strip him off his power first
Reality check Holla, you are not a young star, dog
You’re 24, and in December, you just bought your first car, dog
Reality check Holla, you a motherfucking fraud, dog
But nigga, you’re so fraud, you don’t even know that you’re a fraud, dog
Reality check Holla, and I really have to check that
You are not, I repeat, you are not from the Westside
You’re from Hazelwood so throw up your H, bitch, and rep that!
Reality check Holla, before this battle shit kicked off
You talking to bitches? Nah, hitting bad broads?
Huh! You ugly-ass lil’ boy, you have the swagger of a guard dog
Reality check Holla, you was a part of team from St. Louis before I kicked you out that squad, dog
For taking too many shots, Mr. Ball Game, you’re a ball hog!
Reality check Holla, he tell niggas he had a shootout so y'all won’t think that he weak
But he ain’t tell you, he was shooting that rusty .38 in the air from across the street
And the niggas he was playing with, they was gonna smoke you
But I called and asked for a pass cause you was dumb with no culture
I ain’t wanna see you dead or in a cell, you fucking fool
But y'all don’t score my last two bars, that’s just what a real nigga do
Showtiiiiiime on everything, I show Holla some shit he never seen
Rewrite his life movie and put a scary scream in every scene
A couple rings out that left will make a levy lean
When it’s ball, I go heavy fiend
Get that pipe, I smoke anything and everything
You little maggot frame, get a casket
Your little average dame, get bagged and banged
What you gon’ do? Slide up on me like baggage claim?
I go and get that steel, lil’ nigga, I play the passing lane
I’m at a cocky mood, I’m beating up on this dead meat, I’m in that Rocky mood
So our boy dropped you, you went and hopped on Nelly dick faster than Ashanti do
And when it come to this battle shit, I do a lot of exposing in the second round
First off, I told you in advance that you never stood a chance
I’m greeted by demand and you can’t pull my card cause the city know my hand
Speaking of hands, you and I both know that you never got choked
You and I both know that whole rumour was a joke
But the shit that you did had me heated through the charts
I'ma tell y'all the reason he ain’t come with me for Ars
Hanz had Verb spooked, I’m talking real bad
I called Verb everyday, after school, after class
Like, “Yo, you get your ticket? It’s about to go down”
And he said every time, “I’m online now”
But wait, I called the night before, he ain’t even call back
Text me in the morning on some shit like, “I'ma fall back”
If that ain’t phony or shady then what you call that?
Respect that I once had for you, I want it all back
Let me talk to this nigga
Nobody give a fuck that your resume with the heavyweights
When you walk around with a heart that belong with featherweights
Verb, nobody give a fuck that you fucking all of the ladies
When every battle rapper consider you as a lady
Verb, and the nigga that protect you not gon’ come and help you
Or come to your rescue cause I’m his nephew
So all that guap game gon’ protect you? That’s so not the case
Cause where the fuck was Chase when you was getting chased?
You ran out of state and punched in the face on camera trying to escape
Man you so fucking, wait…
You mean to tell me, a nigga punched you in your mouth and all you did was pout? What’s that?
Now I ain’t say I walk around the city like a tough cat
But there’s rules you learn as a kid, fuck rap
A nigga curse you, it’s mandatory that you cuss back
A nigga rush you, it’s mandatory that you rush back
A nigga shoot at you, it’s mandatory that you bust back
A nigga touch you, it’s mandatory that you touch back
And you did a song with Genocide behind ? back
And he used to give you money, never mind, besides that
You did some shit then showed you ain't’ want no contact
Genocide bombed first, when are you gon’ bomb back?
Let a nigga touch me, “Tremaine where the nines at?
We got a banana clip, Mardi Gras, time strap
??, shotgun, ??”
All you here is “yet yett” and blood flying everywhere
I was the man at 14, I do what I does
Before you battled SB, the Lou ain’t know who you was
Limelight, we was trill, gangbanging for real
Niggas was getting killed, we was out doing that, you was out at the meals
Trying to sell jewelry, belts, watches, and heels
(?) on my son, I’m for real
St. Louis, what the hell?
Y'all praise the nigga that tried to blackball Street Status from URL?
Oh, that’s on my son, grand pap
The nigga hit my jack like “Street Status is wack”
Wait 'til I call Smack, on a URL stage them niggas will never rap
I hate to say it St. Louis but that’s a motherfucking fact
Aye Verb clown, this choppa will lay this nerd down
Let’s talk about that parking lot situ-uughhhh, I'ma save that for the third round
You old-ass clown just an old ass noun
Let a young nigga shine, sit your old ass down
I ride up on Holla like a car and put lead in him like a pencil
What? Them last bars, they didn’t stick like that?
But y'all scream and go crazy when he say shit like that
Explain me this cause I don’t get it yet
You rep Westside, Blood gang, 50-100 block ??
Right? Right? But how? Cause lil’ nigga, that’s a Crip set
But let me guess, since you do so much Westsiding and bloop-blooping
That they just gon’ let you Soo-woop it, right?
Bitch, you sound stupid
It’s sucka in you Holla, real niggas can read that shit
Plus it’s coward in you too cause you bleed that shit
I ride on niggas like a gangster with just me, that’s it
If this was flip mob, I’d be Barry Sanders, you’d be Emmitt Smith
Cause you run behind your block, I don’t need that shit
If I catch him outside and tell this bitch nigga, “man up”
He gon’ be like, “mannn…”, man what?!
“I’m just saying Verb, on my mama, ball game
Wait 'til mom get here, wait 'til mom get here”
Man shut up lil’ nigga, you ain’t reckless, you bang never, I’m a one-man slay special
Get your whole gang wet, if I come to you first then all they cribs, I’m like a chain letter
You on that sizzy look brother, this my house heathen
You lizard looking motherfucker, mouse-eater
How you gon’ stand here and beat little niggas
When you run around screaming, “you see me” for Murphy Lee
“Don’t nobody see him!”, so you just a little nigga’s little nigga
I’m a grown man Holla, I’m almost 30, a boss
You ain’t street, they think you street because you dirty and dark
You ain’t a killer, you a dolphin, you just related to sharks
I grab that eagle, let it fly until that birdy get lost
Fuck it be soft dog, Mardi Gras parade in reverse
I throw something, he catch it and then it take his top off
This lyrical hot sauce, should I stop? Nah, watch
I made you and I made me
They see you and be like “who?”, they see me and be like “G!”
The club play you but they pay me so where the fuck is your fame?
It’s like I was playing Mortal Kombat on Sega Genesis with your career
And pressed A-B-A-C-A-B-B cause I put blood in the game
Now let that marinate, my spot permanent, it’s very straight
Slow it down! My spot perm in it, it’s very straight
You a ground-level featherweight
Fucking with a heavyweight that can mid-ground levitate
40 got 17, you take 5 like I told you, “take a break”
Nah let’s take that back, he say I’m over the hill, damn ain’t that strange
I come with a gun that’s Grant’s age, scope on it, go on a rampage
And get to shooting from Durant range
Bitch nigga you lost stay in your damn lane
Bow! They say they want that Hitman back
I’m on my old shit, now I’m in his crib, his granny up by her toes shit
Where his newborn? I stuff him up in the stove shit
Auntie, throat slit, yeah outta control shit, oh shit, Ars’s treatment
What up, Chaz? Well, all them weapons and them things you shoot?
I saw that footage and you got some explaining to do
How many niggas chased you, was it two?
Some brown skin nigga with waves, was it you?
The camera don’t lie, if you watch and see
It’s some URL battle rap nigga running through a park again
People, his name starts with a C
Fuck it, let’s get straight to the facts, Verb
Them niggas that chased you is right by that bar
Go ahead, chase them niggas back, Verb
Smack, ? guns at, you better warn him
I ain’t saving no more rappers, I’m killing all of 'em
I load up that mac like I’m putting air in the Spalding
Braow! Run up on me, you leave crawling
I’m eating real well, I could tell, you starving
But fuck rap, let’s get it on, Marvin
Niggas wanna deal, I’m too ill, Marlon
He talk, he see me ? like a ?
?, I came up the fastest
But fuck top tier, give me that underdog status
I walked in, hugs from the bitches, the baddest
He walked in, tragic, no looks, Magic
?, I’m a motherfucking savage
For the bills, I turn into a gator like Brad
All this battle rapping and you broke, no bank account or Chase?
St. Louis, slow it down
I said all this battle rapping and he broke, no bank, Aye count on Chase
Come on Verb, like outta all people you know, I do not play
So you can save all that cool shit for a hot date
How you still ?
How you want it chalked up or picked up the mop way?
Found in a swimming pool and left under the dockway
? style, go listen to what the doc’ say
Female bitch should’ve listened to what your pops say
One of us the face of the Lou and he is not gay
A quick snipe, I’ll let two go blaow!
He’ll leave the city to play with Angels; Pujols style
I said a quick snipe, I’ll let two go blaow!
He’ll leave the city to play with Angels, Pujols style
Calicoe put on a ball game shirt cause I’m repping you
I feel that Blackface said I’m one of his faves, this a trill fact
It’s my second time making top tier, feel that
Cause there’s a difference between metaphors and real rap
Aye Verb can’t keep up with the baddest
Maybe my nigga Ill but I got stronger after Street Status
St. Louis, what up? I show him what a college thug 'bout
Right jab, something like lightning, I knock a bulb out
I’m talking right now, I don’t give a fuck what you was 'bout
Grown man what? This a grizzly to a cub scout
You 'pose to be a boss, well tell Smack where the gloves out
Old-ass clown, just an old ass now
Let a young nigga shine, sit your old ass down!
Ball game!
A nigga swung on me when I had a cast on, my foot was just broke
But when Twin swung on you, you just broke
It wasn’t a broken bone on you
Truthfully, everybody knew that there was nothing that you can do with me
The test was “Could I kill you beautifully and leave here without a bruise on me?”
You ain’t moving me, bitch get worried
My last round was your obituary, this one is your eulogy
You a snake in the grass, Holla
But how you gon’ hide in that grass once I remove the weed and everyone can view and see?
You might not get it now but at the end of this round, you’ll see
Real quick, if we was slaves and had a New York slave master
And the master came again and said
“Now, which one of you country negroes wanna be my new house nigga?”
He’ll kneel quick, I get to picking my cotton, I’m on that field shit
I’m driving St. Lou to success, you make the wheel shift
I’m trying to destroy these New York niggas, he trying to build shit
I knew one day, this was gon’ be a match I had to deal with
I blame me, I should’ve stopped you before you got started like a kill switch
You made fun of Arsonal for driving that school bus to feed his people? That ain’t real shit
But you riding with all these kids like you on a motherfucking field trip
I will get that tool and let it grip
Go to work and put a drill bit in every nigga that you chill with
And I throw a steel fist, you never will, bitch
We never saw, we just heard you a swinger, nigga you Will Smith
If this was Menace II Society, you know who the fuck that we are
I be OG Wax; Ill, O-Dog; this nigga Caine like
“Look man, I’m just trying to do my thang
I ain’t dissing no East Coast niggas alright?”
Nigga, get the fuck out the car
See to y'all, he may appear cool, I know him so I don’t feel dude
Your character’s similar to flea market Holla, ain’t nothing real in you
You make me mad cause you use this hood act like it’s a fad
Throw up your red rag and sag and say “on my momma” behind everything
But you got everything a nigga who come from nothing never had
You got a momma and a dad, you’re privileged but you are too ignorant to admit it
Holla, 75% of black fathers don’t even visit
I been to your crib many times, that shit roses and bubbles
I watched your momma hug you
But your father doesn’t love you cause he let you be a sucker
When a father loves his son and the son means the world to the father
Son get to going down that road, you grab him up by that collar
Like, “Listen, your name Gerald, let’s chill with all this Holla
You a athlete with no rap sheet
You ain’t ever clip rounds or bust a zip down, ho sit down
You ain’t never been in a dope house where the dope fiends smoke up
See that thick cloud, smell that aroma, and almost throw up
You ain’t never had to hustle, get a pack and swear it came from the border
That shit don’t lock up, you hit the block up and still get it off to the snorters
See, I worked all my life so that life you never would see
So when you claim you from the hood, that’s disrespectful to me
I married your momma as a chess move
I ain’t wanna see you getting stepped to by some step-dude
Yes fool, I kept you in the best shoes, put you in the best schools
Stop telling people that the mob is your crew
Cause when the mob fuck niggas up, them niggas that they fuck up, they only know you
So nigga, stop getting on camera saying you popping them guns
Aye Big Gerald! (Yes sir!)
That’s the way you talk to your son!
Every time I see your face, I envision a rage
I wanna get me a blade and hit your chest 'til it resemble a maze
I tell my niggas "promote that choppa”, that mean give it a raise
And let it get wild like Jerry Springer every time he put the niggas on stage
I want him dead, I get him well hunted
12 shooters, 100 round drums, this fool done
Run up on Gerald, give Mr. full-time that full ton
I took this battle for the bread and to get this shit clear
Denzel voice from Training Day, “Nigga you just live here, I run shit here!”
Ball game!
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