Rum Nitty vs. Real Sikh

Lyrics

[Round 1: Rum Nitty] Kill switch! We got Rum muthafuckin' Nitty versus...Sukhwinder Singh AKA Real Sikh Fuck a status quo Fans tellin' me I can't do nothin' with Real Sikh, I gotta up the antidote All headshots hit his turban, bust his cantaloupe Get Real (w)rap every round, from a Calico(e) My talent shows, we got a different skill set I give a fuck about how many biggity biggity siggity similes you got, you still wack From one of my punchlines, a nigga get killed Smack But that's the difference between the metaphor (and Real rap) I'm still strapped, I'll let a shot fire You're Indeed LinkedIn with a Monster like a job finder Ya dawg dyin' They gon' say I got Real Sikh (sick) and lost my mind, like Alzheimers Think you gon' knock me off my throne? Then y'all bias This nigga Singh can't stop the reign; Lamar Silas You not slidin' On the set you a clown You probably been liftin' weights since you was kid back in your country just flexin' around I can imagine Real Sikh husky, as a youth in Asia (euthanasia), now watch a vet' put him down Pull up now, up the burner, knock off that fuckin' turban Cause you done had that (w)rap up a whole year like Uncle Murda Pull up Suburban Effortlessly, checkin' my reach It come from under the seat like a pullout couch, you better (bed'll) retreat Let it release If I was Real Sikh (sick), I would take off, like medical leave Leave you dead in the street Please don't try me or we can box One swing will drop ya, they won't even stop it Three piece proper, these will knock him Get his fuckin' wig cracked, punchin' Real (w)rap like Geechi Gotti He stole Dizaster's style, he's a copy He should die 'cause that's what all that bitin' get you Sikh (sick) You ever seen a zombie? Re-design it! I can switch up the flow when I want, cause I got tons I can really tap into different pockets, like Shotgun I heat up every time I'm in question Try some, get you in the view (interview) and give you wings like Hot Ones You ain't pop none You just be rappity rappin' I'm talkin' packin' a MAC in the back of the Acura rappin' You'll get clapped with a Magnum, in (end) Real life, it can actually happen Sternum shot, now Singh (sing) hole in his chest, like the National Anthem Why we havin' this battle? Dawg will get John Doe'd This between me and you, ain't nobody else involved in this convo You should get popped with a hollow Cause I heard my name was in Real Sikh (sick) mouth...now we can talk mono e mono Glock blow Kill yaself [Round 1: Real Sikh] I saiiiid You about to get the effect of all the PTSD that been in Sikh thoughts I'm talkin' big brawls Seein' an eye (I) get stomped out like Pixar Split jaws, hollow tip scars To think of the shit hard I seen events that can make a Hitman emotional, like this card Plottin' with the homie how to get this kill pulled off Gotta do political news so it don't look wrong Heard the immigrants was eatin' the pets, I said, "Good call" I'll give The Alien a Bulldog I haven't talked to God in a while, I don't why we stop Led me to killin' Nitty, I'll get 25 years tops Gotta see the fam' in visitation before I find peace God It'll register behind the glass like a Chinese spot Come on puncher, play the Knock Out game With my first right, one swing And you're out, no third strike Shoot with a purpose it ain't nothin' to learn twice I only this bitch when I'm clocked in, it's my work wife Silencer, shhhh, it's heard like church mice Heater against your brain 'til ya scalp looks like burnt rice Said, "he's small", so what? I'll bury him to dirt height Six feet, I'll show The Alien what the Earth like Real disrespect to the turban? You stop breathin' When the doctor gettin' your head wrapped, we got even Crack your racist joke I crack a smile while I'm squeezin' Call me "Ahki from the store", and I'ma hold the chop cheesin' Punchers I ain't impressed by Except we confusing shadow boxin' with air strikes Then don't disrespect mine Think I just speed up my flow? You missin' what I let fly And you confusin' all this fast ass rappin' with a TEC-9 (Tech-N9ne) So make fun of my style and how it seems so fast I'ma biggity biggity beat yo' ass What you 4th Quarter Nit'? Til your coordinates are found Like, "Where the cash at?" And no talkin' is allowed Don't wanna get a round from the auto, simmer down Be subordinate, I'll let the sub order Nit' around I ain't even gotta snuff Rum Open hand slump son He'll get Smack'ed with two fingers, "What's up son?" Dumbstruck When I let a shotgun buck My people got gas stations, where you think I got this pump from? One gun, fire on both sides; 1-1 They all want a battle rap spirit 'til the become one You're done done Ran out of bullets then I cut son Chainsaw blade with ya name on it, Rum Rum I'm talkin' Mike Myers shit The iron grip The fire stick Die wit' it Mind gets split Eyes and then your sides get ripped The final hit Shoot out the plate inside ya hip Perfect way to go for an Alien; flyin' disc Find a ditch I'm killin' anyone that you bookin' now You ain't gon' get it 'til Nitty's stuck with a bullet round No stretcher, you gotta pick him up and push him out Then you'll understand what I'm sayin' I mean, you pickin' up what I'm puttin' down I heard that Jews control the weather with the paper they make I had to bank on a long nose, makin' it rain Now I'm bookin' a 12, a kill from me to you Now you better be duckin' (duck in) a shell like Filipino food .9 millimeter too for them Sikh bars you wrote Soon as you start your slogan, you gon' get all the smoke And take so many- You won't finish off the quote Just Sikh's one .9, (6-1-9), and I'm spinnin' off the ropes Jersey! [Round 1: Rum Nitty] I ain't pushin' no mo' peace I'd rather find where niggas live at Pull up on they street Get to droppin' shells when bullets get released I ain't say nothin' about you workin' under a 7-11 company Cause I'd rather put you under sheets (Sheetz) You will get hurt, try it Niggas be actin' like killers in they round, til you swerve by 'em Burst fire Stomach shot, you will see Singh (sing) with his organs out, it's a church choir You the worst liar You better get down fast, you ain't gotta wait for ya boy I'm straight to the point, like an inbound pass This bitch down bad You gonna let a chopper off? Please Your people can't even cut their hair off, your ponytail prolly five feet Fuck yo' religion, I'll sit you in a barbershop seat Remove the wrap and get Real Sikh (sick) with the trimmers (tremors) like Muhammad Ali Jab! You'll be the one to get E.T. started; Spielberg Jab! Through this 30 you gon' see the light, it's a Real perk Jab! Let it hit you dead in the stomach, like a still birth Overhead! You'll never see India again like Lil Durk I'm still hurt I done seen too much pain You can fuck around and make a movie about my life, I grew up untamed But fuck fame The only time I ever shot a motion picture, was at the gun range We want change, but this is how we livin' I was really cookin' dope, in and out the kitchen Got the Pyrex and dropped powder in it Then whip it 'til it turn hard, it's no power steering I get pissed and (piston) get to trippin', you gonna go far That's all it takes for Sikh's (six) cylinder to get blown; don't start I always showed heart But when it got physical, I stood tall With my back against the wall; it's a growth chart Pole spark, big heat finna clap Give me a reason to squeeze this .50 up, I've been fiendin' for that 16 in the strap If I hold it right, 'Between Me & You' like Ja Rule It'll hit Singh in (singin') his (w)rap You know what I hate though? When they tell me I'm fuckin' up the battles cause I got short rounds When I'm just rappin' the time amount I was paid fo' It's not my fault they wanna rap all day long That's on them, that's they law But y'all wanna find someone to put the blame on, I become Houdini A scapegoat (escape G.O.A.T.) Case closed I told Troy I'ma trip Shoot you dead in the face, destroy y'all event He waitin' for his god to save him while his blood pourin' and shit I think Jesus somewhere takin' a day off Cause the Lord's callin' Sikh (called in sick) Bitch! [Round 2: Real Sikh] I know you haunted by that Wal-Mart shit Bodied Rum You was probably clockin' in thinkin' that your life not enough Felt like killin' yaself when you was stockin' all them boxes up Like, "I gotta do this job or suici-" that's where you got it from Suicide or you do the job? That's ain't the only options I get There's suicide AND you would die if there's a bomb on my chest Said he ain't from here, he wanna be an accepted citizen Heard The Alien need papers, here's a death certificate Said he want a fade, he'll run away though, sent to Jesus A 100 spray, ya under halos, you're split to pieces Currency exchange rate when the K go Mexican chop, turn the 4th Quarter into 20 pesos Dangerous in the field If I'm aimin' I'ma kill Flippin' names? Better update the names up in ya will Hit his head, blood rushin' in his cranium, it's filled Brain swellin' now he's lookin' like an alien for real We both fans of Hov, at least a different amount Two different Jay-Z albums that we speakin' about You had .22 two's if it's a Reasonable Doubt I got four .44's that'll even it out Gun spark for them gun bars, earn ya karma Medics tryin' to save you, they workin' harder Turn this arm up Family Feud, I'll bring it to ya team or your first responder I'll take a drink with Smack after your ceilin' get chopped Then ask for the lime that's distilling the shot For you? We gonna get two Henny's to the stage I got one Rum with a fresh peel on the top Read ya Bible chapter for closure Rifle sat on the shoulder Let it sing over you talkin' like Michael Jackson wit' Oprah Get active I'll coach ya, I'll put heavy muscle on Bring ya battle rap group, bet my strength is double y'all I bring my girl on the squat rack, then I'm gettin' Hustle tossed I could throw you, lift the rest of them on the bench with just an arm Then rep 100 strong I'll do a workout with the weight with each member of ya squad On Every Fuccin' Bar E.F.B I already killed Magic Made Danny quit, he stopped performin' One rounder with JC And I got three if Gotti want it God'll call him Bullet will find ya heart inside ya body armor Clip curve look like the "S" on Dasani water Sayonara Dyin' by tomorrow, really mobbin' on him Tommy on him Double drum singin', Dolly Parton Shot and caught a kill Catch another when I spot a target Tesla robot, the machine got a body on it You copy everything that works Even when you spit your words, your wrists are curved Twist and turn Know you got that shit from Twork First you reppin' Crip then merge The 4th Quarter, Writer's Bloque, Team Homi, E.F.B. with Got', every clique you heard I got here by my lonely, hit this stage on different terms The only Sikh battle rapper to ever exist, it's a gift and curse But I rep my religion first You had to grab the nose runnin' to be comin' down with somethin' Bitch, I've been Sikh (sick) since birth Jersey! [Round 3: Rum Nitty] This shit right here gon' set the round I used to really fight big niggas like you, punch they head around So let's go head, make a bet that I'll knock you the fuck out Like Stizz, just put the Fetti down I'm adamant They asked me how I've been doin' this for so long and still stay passionate I do it for my family, shit If it wasn't for niggas like Loaded Lux, Murda Mook and Cassidy, I wouldn't even battle Sikh You, think it's all about rappin' Sikh Nah, it's about never fallin' off, ten years, top puncher, no average shit It's about dealin' with health issues, but never no-showin' cause they'd rather see you battle Sikh (sick) Now that's what's sick You would let them sit you in the trap Real talk I don't even like ya style, I barely even listen, that's a fact If you tempt me you'll get clapped I get to pullin' the sticks out like it's a bag of Reggie and dump a Nickle in the wrap We really liftin' straps We let clips off, I don't even have to lift a finger, I got a shooter that'll clip dawg I'll put you in a blunt if you get me pissed off If you try, Sikh'll (tricycle) get rolled up, like Jigsaw This bitch soft You ain't been on no drills Cause I'm a lil' nigga I'm supposed to be scared of him cause he's built? You still gettin' killed They gon' find an unidentified body in the wastelands...it's Real in the field It is what it is I'ma do you bad Sikh A couple people already bodied you and put you in a bag, zip Now you seein' else in (end) Real life like a Catfish Clap shit Don't try us I'll leave you paralyzed from the neck down, in grown diapers They can't even put your clothes on, no liar Every day they gotta put ya (w)rap together for you; it's a ghost writer I'm a GOAT writer, ask my core fans Big or small stage, I done really been through wars fam' Never had the short hand I feel like I got the blueprint to every room, I'm the floor plan Bitch you can't keep it real yourself- [Round 3: Real Sikh] Rest in peace my dawg Pat Stay We used to critique lines from battle rap's greats I be wondering what he think about the battles that happened these past days Like, when you told Lux, "Worcestershire sauce, you don't even know what's at stake (steak)" I heard Pat say, "You put sauce on steak, not at steak." Who thought that was fire? Y'all thought it was fire? I should be lettin' that slide? I guess you be puttin' ketchup at fries My bad, I'm just Nitpickin' See, that what your shit missin' I don't shoot on you, I shoot at you, it hits different He got heart, he down to fight, so we ain't callin' out his height It'll be a different battle when he fought about his life Genius with the punch, 'til he caught a counter right (write) It'll go from, "How he think of that?" to "He should've thought about it twice." When you and Twork battled Geechi and Roc I was up in the crowd My favorite part was when y'all made fun of the style He sounded exactly like Roc, right? The same lines and gestures Gun LINE King, your name kinda says it Soundin' like the Gun BAR King ain't take time perfectin' it Because your whole career you've been doin' a Tay Roc impression Yo, why you never check Dizaster for sayin' the N-Word? I didn't think I would need to On Summer Madness it was my job to teach him Crazy, you stood behind him even He said it loud and proud, you was lookin' down What you tryin' to find? Your sneakers? Let Dizaster (disaster) pass without a check, you ain't applied for FEMA Look at my demeanor Y'all say I got an old school flow But as a guest in the culture shouldn't I know where the roots grow? Be respectin' the culture, showin' my true soul And reppin' my culture, isn't that how payin' your dues go? Sit in the lab, pen and a pad, don't use phones Still box with the pen, I'm creatin' a new note Get rid of your strength and your hearing when I shoot close How he gonna control the power in the Volume when he lose both? You got a battle vaulted cause Footz was rappin' longer Well today don't try I see you when people perform close you get them angry eyes So if I get in his face he'll cry If you rap too long, he'll complain and whine How The Alien, don't know how to control space and time? Just K's and .9's I respect you stand on your choice Shoot 'em up, bang bang, then make it land with ya voice Punches hit, but angles destroy All these bars about hollow tips but you can't expand on a point Cause you ain't mastered the craft bruh You just a master of the punch Even on beat it sound like you on SMACK and it ain't enough It all add up to a gun If you only write a verse when you got a battle comin' up, you not a rapper to me bruh Yo, remember when, a URL event would and then when you get outside you see a cipher or somethin' Remember them ciphers? You ever question why it don't happen anymore? Cause the money came in and it left them blind This got gentrified by fake rappers, actors who pretend to rhyme I don't know if it's an east coast thing But I was taught to have hella lines set aside, memorized You might have to rap at any time That's how it be That's why I'm out ya league Cause after this if we go down the street and they found a beat The only verse you could rap now are these rounds for me He bleed just like us When you're shootin' through him you'll see Said he from another planet, that's stupid to a degree When you realize he just a man, then you don't lose any sleep He Clark Kent, The Alien looks super human (superhuman) to me I'm on that Jersey shit, that goin' all out shit Real Sikh! And I'm the problem that you want rounds wit? You supposed to put in work, but that's wrong now bitch Cause you can't show up to work when you call out Sikh (sick)!