JC vs. Ms. Hustle

Lyrics

[Round 1: JC] Face-down... Or it's out the gate wit' a muzzle like a Greyhound See, this ain't the safest place for someone to take off...like H-Town See, R.I.P. tho', to both of 'em See, I don't care enough Pair 'em up I think Beasley tryna tear us up See, E gypped (Egypt) us tryna bring fam' in (famine) against me, and… I don't know if this is fair or (Pharaoh) what But I'm torchin' shit, of course it's lit Sis' called me and said "I need more work on my body" I said, "And you call Kevorkian?" Let me be clear - this is family This is no need to spray the snub! This is First Lady love I could get one of our Juniors to get at Ebony like Player's Club This .38, I'll dump it I'll wait 'til they at a pool- (*stumbles*) This the .38 I'm dumpin' I put in work to lay off somеthin' Wait 'til she get in a bathing suit and show up to the pool party…and Draymond somеthin' See, y'all try to make these chicks' lives get worse day-to-day I never fell in front of these chicks, and now y'all tryna get our First Lady flamed (Flamez) It ain't a game, but still they came to play And over time, it got darker for these bitches like Flavor Flav The Eagle in my hand, and you know this ain't the place to move when you shook We all know the phrase…"A bird in the hand could put two in the bush" I'm the one that get it jumpin' more A fuckin' mortar If I walk in and drop a bag on this bitch, you won't be lookin' at her You'd be lookin' for her I'm the one that come straight for the kill You shoulda picked another option first I'm the worst Next time, you might just have to call Tink to do the body work (*JC gets time called on him*) [Round 1: Ms. Hustle] You told Swamp you was gonna give him somethin' off the 100K…lies! That's when I knew it was nothin' real wit' this nigga 'Cause that JC took a loaf and fed a whole village This JC wouldn't break bread with a nigga! I'll grip on a trigger You bro, but I ain't playin' wit' you tho' You brought some bitches? We playin' golf I'm swingin' for them hoes (holes) TEC spray! Sex tape! Brains get exposed! No shooter, single mama: I'll raise it on my own I'll be in Detroit lookin' for you, waitin' with the chrome Sobriety test: outside Pontiac wit' my finger on the nose! You ain't gangsta, and I know You? Bang a toy? Just bizarre Who a shooter in the D? You? I…don't believe you got a .40 in the car That was hard, and you soft But we can take it past those words The first one will make him stumble back in a blur The second one will leave him flat out on the curb Hit him again - let's see if JC rise after the third! If that shit occur, all y'all gon' see the bitch in him Stomp him out in some Timberlands Or hit him wit' a close .30: gentleman's But we on the same team, so it's no point like we scrimmagin' Fuck that! I'm 6 feet! You know what'd happen if we get it in? You 5-foot nothin'! No way this nigga will get a win! Man, I'll let a .50 hit one of these mini (Many) Men The shit sickenin', how you let your teeth get to crackhead levels And you lost weight And they told me you on the pipe And judging by those, they got a strong case At this point, I'm just waitin' for the choppers to come out like a car chase Y'all all fake! I was really in the trap, .38 on the table next to the pack and product It was Smith, smack, and rock - sound like we at the Oscars! I could- (*Ms. Hustle gets called for time*) [Round 2: JC] New mission…true vision This fam', EFB, we move different Here to spaz, and then go I only came 'cause a bag on the flo'…but you in it You heard it straight 90-second rounds is more than enough time to serve and skate But one second with me is more than enough time to raise murder rates So let's start raisin' numbers I mean, with me, when I get in my stride, I look like a Jamaican runner The blade is under She dead, but still twitchin' Look like a Asian supper Now, with me?… I mean, she dead, but still twitchin' Look like a Asian supper If there's a body lift at the scene? Well, then you know it's him Frozen stiff Even got a better body for the big (B.I.G) bitch, like the old Lil Kim Bottom of the shoes You gon' know me for the boot more than Soulja Slim A hunnid guns, then I dump another one Bring Ebony magazines she can't take the cover of She gon' take cover from! I aim one Get a life for a life, get that exchange done That same gun, was raised up under Hustle (Hussle) like Wayne's son Now, don't get me wrong - this is family Not the one to get personal wit' Just here to murk some shit But when I walk in and have a accident, it's gon' look like Urkel slipped You know me I mean, I use that shit, and- (*stumbles slightly*) I usually talk wit' a gun, but there's no way to get around when sir come vent (circumvent) I even, park the bitch on the block where we find her We don't circle shit So after this? Shit, you might as w- Time [Round 2: Ms. Hustle] So you Vice Lord! So that mean you be around when it's war I mean, I just don't see it, I doubt it for sure I get his address? Next Day Air: a pound at the door It's gon' be a holey (holy) temple if y'all see me at the house of the Lord I'm down wit' it all! As far as gang shit, you can count me in They know I'm ape, but like a fedora, I be around the Brims You one of the best writers in the game Cool - lock us in Glocks extend Soon as you share the location, (*chk-chk*) I'mma drop the pen (pin)! I'm not convinced, that you got all these 'Ks and MACs All these opps you be layin' flat You wasn't outside where the gangstas at! Virgin Mary: it's hard to believe JC really came from that I was in Detroit a week ago, wit' the thing attached I just had it in the D, J (*imitates a record scratch*) Don't make me bring it back! This ain't a match - why you even accept this, bro? I feel you put a knife in my back Now I'mma put a knife in yo' chest, this slow Drag it down 'til the flesh exposed Then bring it back up…y'all know bitches can't let shit go Let's set the tone You see how I did Verb? I'mma do you the same way I already put a couple on the Island like a baecay' It ain't no loyalty in this shit - I hate snakes! Free Surf! Free Cass'! And for them, I'mma make J pay (JPay) I done paved ways I'm not the best female within this - I'm the best, period That's where we differ GloRilla: I'm a bitch that talk like these niggas And I figure, you get up here and talk about your fake shit, so I don't hear him My shooters Dedicated Give Carter 5 and leave him with No Ceilings [Round 3: JC] Yo…play Hardball and get G-Baby'd I only came with ratchets and raps Three 90s…and .380s Wanna try and see? Yeah, even now, I'm holdin' one (hole-in-one) like a old Tiger swing Ready to (two) point at a helmet, it even got a Viking theme See, they say, "We just want a bag to get a bag and another bag" They just wanna make sure they purses cute 'til I persecute Wit' a mask, and it's no telling what JC turn into They say a soulful person is grounded, and that's until I make that soul go vertical And we gotta send you off too I even drag bitches, like Swayze in To Wong Foo… It's EFB, but I'm sure by now y'all know the team And it's led by a tip (T.I.P) like Young Dro in "Shoulder Lean" We fam'! This ain't even a job, Hustle! You know damn well I love you But if we can make some extra bread, then expect a few bucks on the side, Hustle Yeah, I get it goin', I load the- (*JC stumbles again*) -expect a few bucks on the side, Hustle I load the chopper, and then it's go time - we see hard Yeah, we…get her ass lifted for nothin', like doctors in the D.R. All I hear is- (*Ms. Hustle and Smack White have a good chuckle at that last bar - even JC chuckles a little himself*) All I hear is incompetent non-common sense confidence Droppin' from thots who used to gettin' ran more than JavaScript It won't be tolerated - y'all debate it I mean, y'all- They got you in some- in front of somethin' monumental: this yo' inauguration But don't leave all them waitin' You could check the files! We all get flagrant From streetball, where we don't even respect when you call it late And y'all tryna bring them in there… The modern female, that's completely foreign to kitchenware! (*Beasley calls time on JC*) [Ms. Hustle] (*catches her breath after silently laughing*) You ready? [JC] Let's do it, let's do it [Round 3: Ms. Hustle] You know how dumb I felt standing behind you when Surf was whooping yo' ass? You was dying, bitch I tried to tiptoe to the back, slide, and dip I was tryna duck off camera Can you imagine my tall ass tryna hide and shit? It was obvious! I mean, Geechi even tried to sneak off - it was quite clear He looked at me like, "I'll be back. Hold cuh down." I said, "Nah, nigga, you standin' right here!" It was type weird, 'cause I told him not to make you EFB He said, "Nah. J loyal." I said, "That nigga a fiend. Let's just stay cordial." Nah! But he ain't listen He still made room for the addict (attic) like Hey Arnold! If I harm you, it's gon' be with a big weapon You give a little, I send more back like an investment .357 will make him spin in split-seconds Soon as I see J, JC backwards: I'm dyslexic I done been tested - drive-bys, house raids Every day was somethin' You ain't got shit on your rap sheet but some crazy punches You ain't do no B&Es, kickin' down a door for a safe or nothin' Just a nigga that pop-locks, and ain't never break in nothin'! Think we bluffin', 'til I'm on the freeway, right where he stay Puttin' my foot down in Pontiac like a E-brake If I apply pressure, I can make him take back whatever he say J more (Morr) likely to apologize if I approach him in a mean (Amin) way See, J, since we EFB, they thought we went over rounds in the parking lot But get this…TEC spit! Shells drop… Only niggas goin' over rounds in the parking lot gon' be detectives! You know what I'm upset wit'? How you did Loso He was a fan and needed some help You took his money, and kept- (*Beasley calls time on Ms. Hustle, and JC & Hustle give each daps of good sportsmanship*)