Tay Roc vs. Kyd Slade

Lyrics

[Round 1: Tay Roc] Free Surf Bruh, I wouldn't front you a pack if I sold coke No joke, he look like he'd take it and go ghost If he did, that's what happens to him, his soul floats We cut the lights off and slow coast Sticks hangin' out each side of the whip, lookin' like paddles for rowboats Brrrrrrrrrrrrt The plug hit by a Tommy, like Lobos It's death in his future, nigga you ain't even know it Rocko, pronto, I'll have a vato waitin' outside ya spot though 50 rounds lettin' this oowop go A ton'll (tunnel) go through the plug crib; El Chapo Plug talk? Nigga, ya voice doesn't count Swear to God ya name ain't David Doster...and you ain't go into a courtroom and point niggas out I don't wanna hear none of that drug talk You tellin' on niggas? Bring a whole new meaning to "plug talk" Right, this shit hear ain't nothin' to play about I don't usually bring news to y'all door, so now we talkin' the paper route (out) {Tay Roc pulls out a document from his jacket} Look at his face, this guy got caught I ain't even gon' waste y'all time, let's get straight into that highlight part David Doster, that's you, right? I'm only askin' because it says you viewed this video somewhere before a superior court judge You tellin' on niggas in court? That's the worst part And it says he identified, "Platinum", "Decky", "J-Jerk" and "Starks" I'm not sayin' you're supposed to be a felon my nigga But this case was in '09, you ratted in 2012, you couldn't wait to start tellin' my nigga Question my nigga, it says in this paperwork that your brother got hit in the face with a bottle and you was there Why you ain't help him my nigga? Only thing you helped him do was RAT on a nigga put hands on him Ya brother took a bottle to the face and you took the stand on him [Kyd Slade] Cap! [Tay Roc] Facts! It's in the work nigga! [Kyd Slade] Read it! Don't ask me questions. Read it. I'll beat yo' ass [Tay Roc] I wish you would touch me nigga. Are you fuckin' dumb? [Kyd Slade] Read it. You know the vibes [Tay Roc] I wish you would touch me. Ayo touch me again. Ayo, you gon' get fucked up, I'm tellin' you! You a rat! {scuffle breaks out on stage} [Smack to Tay Roc] Work, work, work, work. Do your job my nigga. Don't get emotional my nigga. You're a bol. Aight. Do you [Tay Roc to the camera holding the paperwork] Ayo this is how rats act. How is he actin' tough? He's a rat. He's a fuckin' rat. This is real. I don't got time to make this shit up. C'mon bruh. I got this from the nigga he ratted on. You shittin' me? Nigga. Play with me nigga [Kyd Slade to the crowd] That nigga won't come outside. He won't come outside. And I caught him in the mall the day before yesterday. Read it though. Read it nigga! [Tay Roc] Now David Doster, that's you, right? I'm only askin' because it says you viewed this video somewhere before a superior court judge You tellin' on niggas in court? Is the worst part And it says he identified, "Platinum", "Decky", "J-Jerk" and "Starks" I'm not sayin' you're supposed to be a felon my nigga But this case was in '09, you ratted in 2012, you couldn't wait to start tellin' my nigga Question my nigga, your brother got hit in the face with a bottle and you was there Why you ain't help him my nigga? Only thing you helped him do was RAT on a nigga put hands on him Ya brother took a bottle to the face and you took the stand on him Fair warnin', you do some dumb shit, it's gon' get you slapped Ya brother? The Mark Doster nigga? A bigger rat I swear to God he is [Kyd Slade] Talk about me bro. Talk about me bro. Talk about me [Tay Roc] Shut up while I'm rappin' nigga! If this was me, niggas would've put this shit out before the battle and I'd have been on Oprah! You shittin' me? [Tay Roc] Listen Smack, these not thugs And this is public info on jud.ct.gov Shout out to the nigga you ratted on I can't even take the credit He tried to give the info to Stumbles, his dumb ass ain't get the message You're a rat, it's pathetic That plug talk? Synthetic I blame ya mama and ya daddy, it's all in ya genetics At first, I thought it was just him and his niggas just tryin' to troll me Nigga said he had paperwork on you, I told him, "Show me." After lookin' at it closely I realized that it wasn't phony The nigga got out six years ago but they gave 37 to his co-d Facts! [Kyd Slade] I never had a co-d in my life. Fuck is you talkin' 'bout? [Tay Roc] Fuck you! Clown! We teach niggas snitchin' a lesson You lucky that wasn't us, we would've sent him to Heaven Grippin' a weapon Hah, you did all that and thought you could come to battle rap, what your pussy ass thought this was witness protection? {Tay Roc is in Kyd Slade's face and Slade moves his elbow out to make some space between himself and Tay Roc, and Roc pushes him, and a scuffle ensues} [Tay Roc] Fuck you! Clown! We teach niggas snitchin' a lesson You lucky that wasn't us, we would've sent him to Heaven Grippin' a weapon Hah, you did all that and thought you could come to battle rap What? You thought this was witness protection? Free Surf, we don't do no dwellin' Buyers tell too, gotta be careful what you sellin' Get it from the hills, if it's purple we inhale it Aye Surf, I can say "free the gang" cause now I know who tellin' This rat ass nigga You play wit' me, I'll hit you wit' one slug You wouldn't have even made it in front of that dumb judge Tell on us, mama, papa, daughter and son drugged But you hooked to machines, watchin' MTV 'til you Unplugged You Chatty Patty, don't wanna hear 'bout ya drugs no more Don't wanna hear you rappin' like you a thug no more Don't wanna hear you rappin' 'bout ya snub no more We fuck wit' wireless charge and we don't need this plug no more I'ma down this nigga Smack was really 'bout to crown this nigga After this don't pound this nigga Where you found this nigga? You ain't know you brought a rat 'round us nigga Fuck gun bars, I don't even wanna rap 'round this nigga You clown ass nigga, you try to finesse me in a slick way Bitch play, that blue sky above you? Gon' get grey If I don't like what a snitch say, clips spray Go in his pockets, soon as I get his ID, (Ahdi) BOOM, wit' a Big(g) K Finding out the plug is a rat? That shit is straight insanity Nigga I found paperwork on you, you ain't a man to me If you would've told on ya man we would've erased ya family They would've talked about me killin kid (Kyd) court like Casey Anthony It's light man {Roc starts talking shit to Kyd Slade again and they have to be broken up} {Kyd Slade address the crowd before his round} Ayo. I don't got no rebuttal, I'ma just keep it tall. I got subpoenaed outta a jail cell into a courtroom. You can't deny court from a jail cell. I had to sit in a courtroom. Show them where I'm telling at. You can't. I never had a co-d in my life. Ain't nobody in jail behind me. Jerk, pussy and we down niggas. Now I'm a rap. And right after this don't- none of this extra shit just walk around the corner wit' me. You don't wanna fight though. I work nigga. Watch. I'm certified outside nigga. I'm certified nigga. Fuck you talkin' 'bout. I'm certified outside nigga. What? [Round 1: Kyd Slade] Ayo, I know you miss your man, free the Wave, we share some pain wit' him But before we get into any of these bars, we need to talk Cause that nigga told you to suck his dick on Neighborhood, sucka And then you drove to the neighborhood and start a gang wit' him? Surf fell on his ass, grabbed you to bounce back but you couldn't hang wit' him Oh but now-a-days, we let you tell it you down to bang wit' him You put in pain wit' him And if this shit do ever hit the fan, go to the grave wit' him Well if you was outside wit' ya right-hand man, why the fuck you not on that case wit' him? Gettin' arraigned wit' him Sittin' in the courtroom, shackled up, gettin' pointed at by the main victim? Eazy, if this is right-hand man, why the fuck he not in the Cave wit' him? Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! Niggas battle rap friends! And I can fight! Watch this! I swear to God. Watch this. I'ma down this nigga. On my mother. Soon as we get out- Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit! The Feds snatched my righthand man for a Rico nigga they comin' to kick my door next You got some explainin' to do Matter of fact, we know it's just battle rap so let me explain it to you Like what the fuck is up? You be constantly on the internet actin' tough wit' a fuckin' gun But when niggas came and snatched yo' chain, you ain't up it once They whooped yo' man's ass on stage and you ain't up it once If I was Brizz on sight, you gettin' hit wit' a sucker punch Snatch you by your thin ass neck and you get another punch, and another punch Why don't you tell us why the fuck yo' hands never work when it's time to knuckle up You bitch ass nigga! {chokes} Stop talkin' like a hoe, cause you a [?] on the low Blade out, poke a pussy, carve a nigga throat Or brains out, unload the fully, carbon in the coat Ain't trust Jesus, nigga I made my profit off the dope Backpage, had a digital brothel on the low Harlem Nights, I took some white and I locked it in the vault Money ain't make me bitch, I was poppin' and was broke If I catch Chess out wit' Tay I'm targeting them both And they gon' find you with half yo' wig blown out, huggin' Roc(k) like Martin had to Cole Najiramba, bare faced chopper hop out of Tundra's Don't run, cause I'm fast wit' a gun, I'll be right behind ya One stick, put five shooters on it, we stackin' sliders 30 clip, the extendo look like a pack of Mambas You a bitch, find ya hotel turn it into Rwanda Gun Titles? I'll leave you stiff in a box reppin' Wakanda Throw it up, and they all gon' follow like the 'La Bamba' In the bathroom, choppin' up china like I'm E. Honda Let a MAC shoot, bang wit' the Heat like Harold Miner You vagina, I mean bitch to me We gon' hold down the game wit' no Wave? The nigga Tay? Is you kiddin' me? I will issue headstones and put these pussy niggas under Roc(k), literally The stick wit' me, lead ya girl 50 clip in the heater curl The hammer plastic, that's a 3D printed ratchet like Cita's World Revolvers pop, the heaters twirl The gloves on, keep it sterile You all rap, and I can see through the cap like Secret Squirrel It's demoralizin', when your story touchin' our hearts but your appeal can't reach They gave my mans triple life Basically tellin' him once he died he still can't leave I heard you was on the phone with the muthafuckin' ops My first thought was get you shot, and it still ain't leave That's why we brung arms as strong as a power forward, in the wheelchair league I slide accordingly Now hurry the fuck up and rap so these niggas can hear some more of me Gangsta! 1-0 nigga! [Round 2: Tay Roc] Main event me? You better be delivering with adrenaline I'm done bein' a gentlemen this is genuine No gigglin' Sharpen a pencil and push ya temple in In other words, if Kyd outta line better be scribblin' You listenin'? Yo, you tryin' to check Roc(k)? Better be dribblin' Or the silencer, ssstt ssstt sound like it's sizzlin' Shot in the jaw, your blood fly, feel like it's drizzlin' Ayo, y'all ever seen a nigga close his mouth and still be whistlin'? You tremblin', the .9 come from the Timberlands Body with lead, like you a resident of Flint, Michigan New gadget, from Switzerland, they just shipped it in I can't control this Gizmo, it's a Gremlin It's lit for him Why is this cat lyin' about packs flyin' Or he put bricks on a boat and it start capsizin' Boy, I keep somethin' Ill on my side, Mackk Myron Gun butt, straight in (straighten) Slade wig, it's a flat iron Gat firin', I catch him lackin' inside his Jeep It go through the windshield, you, then the driver's seat Suppression on it, when I put up, silent heat Saved By The Bell oh Slade'll (Slater) hear is the tires Screech You the student that I'm tryin' to teach, I swear I'm the best coach Instead of writin' these rounds, you should've wrote your death note Leave his chest, throat, full of bullet holes and TEC smoke Turn Kyd Slade to Slade Wilson, give him a Death Stroke This gat get sprayed, 'matic waved, comin' at the Cave We swing through the skies (disguise) like it's a masquerade They knew you wasn't winnin' alone off my accolades Today? Just ain't son day (Sunday) it's Saturday This gat get sprayed, Smack dug this cat a grave I grab a blade, buck 150, then you get hit with the aftershave If I'm catchin' shade, you catch a fade Dave Olson, Game Of Thrones, I'ma end up draggin' (dragon) Slade Tay a vet, why would this nigga wanna play with death? Talkin' 'bout all the different weight he stretch That's only gon' make me want to pull up, where he kick it, wavin' TECs Takin' china off his road dawg, that's the generation next It's almost 2023, you still sellin' packs, prolly I sold soft, Zany, X and I had Molly I stopped trappin', cause I ain't care if what I sold would catch bodies I would come to the ring with the scale still on me like Crash Holly Ask 'bout me Ain't no finessin' me wit' grams I had fiends that was fuckin' with the H like Stephanie McMahon If it wasn't for rap, I never would stop settin' up shop Scott Hall vs. Dwayne Johnson, Razor's Edge to The Roc(k) Heckler and Koch, make you a stain on the floor Put a black cloud over him, wherever he roamin' rains (Roman Reigns) gonna pour Whatchu play wit' me for? .223, chest shot This one, .23 kid (Kyd) will turn you to ex-Pac Ya breath stop You must wanna get smacked open-handed Kyd, you bigger than sellin crack, don't lower ya standards I retired from sellin' coke in abandons But get the urge to make up (makeup) with that white girl like L'oreal Paris Call me "Roc DaVinci", I could paint you the perfect pics I used to juggle work, now I let these clowns do the circus shit I tried to turn one into 36 The dope came out the aluminum foil brown and the stamps said, "Hersey Kiss" You heard me bitch Get hit wit' a 30 clip Leave you missin' as if Twork no-showed this battle, people worried sick (Sikh) Inf' red on an Arsonal (arsenal) I'ma merc you wit' Surf through with a Shotgun, sound like some Jersey shit This pipe clap, he won't get his life back Do him ill, mice trap Do him Ill, Ice Pack Battlin' me in Irving Plaza wouldn't go like that I would've hung kid (Kyd) over a balcony; Mike Jack' Light bruh [Round 2: Kyd Slade] They said, "Slade gon' come to the Civil War stage... And get 30 by-" I think the fuck not Bitch I'm 9-0 for a reason, I'm one of them Roc With enough Glocks I'm gon' beat yo' muh- ayo fuck that Ayo Smack, I really walked away from a drug block You know I dedicate everything I got to the stage I miss enough quap Good performances, haymakers, shake the building, this where the love stop I mean, we see all these rappers get hit wit' the Rico and y'all gave the plug Roc(k)? What I do wrong? I'm just fuckin' witchu, see tonight Gun Titles the ops so we gettin' moved on Like, if I catch Tay wit' the Wave that's 2/5th of the crew gone Cause you know what happen when the driller gets subtitles and Roc(k) together; a tombstone Get moved on, when the choppers come out, you get chewed on I done kicked in a few doors my nigga, it's no cappin' I catch Roc and his broke ass friends, both lackin', toast clappin' Impact to ya ribs, you hear bones crackin' When I send somethin' black at him (Black Adam) it his Roc(k) in the chest with a bolt action See respect is everything and that's what I demand cause I'm a G Playin' phone tag with my ops gon' get ya stupid ass shot, you better watch what you say when you talk to me It's always battle rap 'til this shit ain't battle rap, and they gotta get Roc off rock, you know, scoop that man up out that street Cause this banana clip so muthafuckin' long that bitch damn near form a "C" When I hit the stove and straight drop Roc(k), I admit it brung more fiends What the fuck I gotta put this shit in Gun Titles or somethin'? After I let this straight drop Roc they gon' have to administer morphine Grab the blickers, drag a nigga Twin revolvers, classic killer Crucible/UM4 shit, I'm from a class of killers Me, Sheed, J2 and Foe, top gunners Sheed out his mind, Foe really wit' it, Glock tucker I'm really a block hugger Had 2 spin ya strip, don't be surprised when you see a Blade slide it's a boxcutter Let us pray Pillow over ya head when the weapons spray And leave feathers tangled up in ya wig like Kevin Gates He's wildin' A bunch of fly ass niggas, the team's stylin' Hate comin' in from every direction, beef pilin' Had a lab in the back of the crib, Green Goblin Ratchet lift, leave a patch in yo' shit; Rasheed Wallace Two bangers, the original flamer; Reed Dollaz Why don't Roc just act like a rock and be solid? My niggas doin' long division we see problems Surf's sidekick keeps screamin' "Bat" but we see Robin Hey Robin, you know Surf just dropped, got niggas wildin' Gwitty voice, "That's nasty's son" why the fuck you not on the album? Oh you thought that you was nice? But those niggas won't even call you for a fight Everybody got RB chains except you, them niggas ain't come and offer you no ice? Your next address gon' be a grave and niggas gon' pay the mortgage with they life Then it's gon' be an Alaskan winter Cause I'ma have Caution mournin' (morning) through the night You'se a fuckin' punk Stop tellin' me you put in all this work and you legally own a fuckin' gun You bought your hammer out the gun store, I'm not even eligible to go in one Send gangstas at you Bitch ass nigga. You don't put in no work. I sat on the phone for an hour with Frost. Relax [Tay Roc] He's a rat too [Kyd Slade] Send gangstas at you with motive, them niggas was paid to clap you HK, SK, AR, FN, aimin' at you Niggas hop out drawin' a bunch of random letters we playin' Scrabble With no prayers And that's cause I don't have faith I got drugs And real drug dealers buy drugs Plug talk Say something important. And make it real nigga. Make it real. You gotta make it real. You can't make shit up with me [Round 3: Tay Roc] You can never be ahead of Roc, you better stop Nigga 30+ with "Kyd" in his name, that says a lot Two guns, Beretta/Glock, I let 'me pop Turn your strip cheese on a grater, I shred a block When you die, don't think you gettin' a Heaven spot Learn from DMX album, It's Dark And Hell Is Hot You talk too much, 'We Can't Be Friends'; Debra Cox I stick the knife in a plug, cause an electric shock Kyd stop, y'all know this lame never can win I'll leave Kyd (Kid) Rock'd and his back pain settling in Watch Kyd drop, lose all the feelin' in the legs that's on him; Kid's Bop Won't be the same every again I've been a boss though, I ain't cut from just any cloth though I could've been the plug but niggas like you gon' get me charged though I had dimes and dubs of soft but the 50's hard though When my moms was sellin' Avon I was really Marlo If me and him don't get along he won't be livin' long though Ridin' 'round in a mini Volvo, .30 in my Dickie's cargo I'm really awful, keep semi-autos You piss me off though, I'll knock on ya door, shoot you on Christmas I'm Nicky Scarfo I could've schooled kid (Kyd) from my first rap I heard that you the plug, if so, where the work at? Boy I had fiends smoke a glass stem 'til it turned black If they would've caught me with that shit they would've put me where Surf at Watch ya mouth, I don't like to get cursed at I put a blade in him, reverse that Then hit his man in the main artery, burst that If I hit a couple tee's with a pic(k), it ain't a thirst trap I drive-by, I miss anybody, I swerve back Get burnt at, turned into ash, you earned (urned) that Take a dirt nap It was the chopper you heard clap The barrel long as the wingspan on a bird back Think I'm bluffin' 'til somethin' under ya shirt crack He don't believe it's a round (around), he prolly think the Earth flat Where you learn that? Catch one in ya fuckin' skull, put a body on the toy Then hide Kyd (kid) soul like the Chucky doll You undefeated on the app, I'ma beat this guy the clearest Takin' this battle with me, must ain't got a lot to cherish This guy'll perish, show up to funeral, show up to his house party, like I'm a terrorist Blaow Soon as I see Kyd (Kid) pop, I'm Robin Harris This guy embarrassed, can't chill out on a porch's where he live Gauge out, this'll take out a portion of his ribs Run up wrong, I'ma be forced to air this Sig' In the hospital, doctors forced to care for Kyd The lettuce tucked, don't wanna hear your stories, you said enough Metal clutch, foot on ya neck I ain't lettin' up Nigga you call yourself the "Big 7", you dead as fuck Can' with the red dot I'm tryin' send 7-Up Your head'll bust, everything in ya mind it'll go No words like Tom & Jerry the silence will show The shells out these .9's it will blow I pull this stick, jackpot, I hit 7 three times in a row The TEC's slanted, shots in ya chest planted Ya upper half went over there, I don't know where the rest landed Get pistol whipped and left stranded, with neck damage If I catch Kyd (kid) Home Alone like the Wet Bandits {Long break} I pull up like Snoop did Jodie in his lady whip So many shots, Baby Boy cryin' and think he may be hit You make me sick I'll break ya shit, .380 spit Air One, then clean it off like my favorite kick I can't believe that you the reason that some niggas did bids Why even come to battle rap if you did what you did? It is what it is, I'm splittin' ya wig Two guns, I'm scratchin' the serial (cereal) off like "These tricks are for kids (Kyds)" Stick with the Sig', blick at ya head , let rounds loose Bumped in the woods, to find you they'll have to let hounds loose You won't be viewable at the funeral, this cal' shoot Now the casket for Kyd (kid) can't open, it's child proof You a wild goof Rap bro. I don't wanna- I wanna fight. I don't wanna do nothin' else but fight. I don't wanna do nothin' else [Kyd Slade talking to Tay Roc] Three minutes. That's all. Three minutes. Three minutes bro. We'll be outside in three minutes {Then Kyd Slade addresses the crowd} I gotta say this again cause I don't play with my name. There's nobody in jail because of me. I ain't never told on a soul. Tell him to give it to you and read it. There's no one in jail cause of me. Nobody's in jail cause of me [Round 3: Kyd Slade] I'm not the only one that's gon' pop my nigga, we all on it We'll pull up in Edgewood Find that so called trap you got then foreclose it See you in traffic, follow you to your house with a full smokin' Catch him on the way inside, then he died and the police found Roc(k) propping the door open Just like that Brizz shit Instead of fightin' niggas found you proppin' the door open Squeeze it on him When I summon the killers had demon's formin' It's forever on sight like cats and dogs no need for talkin' Wise guy, pull up slow with a MAC like Steven Hawkings Then carefully throw your wife in the trunk and proceed with Caution Nigga slow creep, after you I'm clippin' the whole fleet Cause I got zero tolerance and after I smoke Roc(k) I'ma O.D Nigga say he need powder, I'll bring him a whole ki But don't nobody want a brick of Roc(k) with the police Bro's sweet But he's actin' like his burner will dump Make a leap, from movie caskets to a permanent one Hold heat, he'real theatric 'til his curtain get shut Nigga gon' from screamin' "That's light!" to gettin' prepped under a surgical one I'll murder a bum These niggas already know you'll run You ain't gotta be a statistic I'll turn you to one We gotta talk The man you became, we gotta talk Who you became ain't the man yo' mama want You'se a bitch with all these feminine ways it's your father fault I guess it's safe to say that man made Roc(k) a blade like a tomahawk I'll take aim at yo' fitted and knock it off Knock it off! Stop actin' like Surf that's not ya father Why the fuck you keep screamin' "AMG Mode" when you drive a Charger? Bitch I'll follow you, that's when a 100 plus from the chopper shoot You ever bought a new phone and got one of them European plugs? We will leave that Charger unrecognizable Once you see the actual crime scene shit get even more vicious Cause the chopper hit and left his Charger bent like it's a short in it Nigga your thing? That's your thing Oh and my thing? That's my thing Until I like what you doin' wit' yo' thing and (make it my thing) I made my name on the strip Put in pain for my clique Built my shit outside as an actual stepper I'll be damn if I let some bitch nigga play wit' the shit Don't be scared of a coffin Roc You've seen the movies, you was literally made for this shit And everybody knows Dracula's fake, it's slayed (Slade) wit' a stick Whatever works for you Let this little back and forth and I'm murkin' you Then he really gon' die from a stake (steak) to the heart, nigga shouldn't have took the beef personal You'se a dead nigga, dead nigga I'm a gun tucker- I don't know why y'all talkin' After y'all die, who gon' provide those coffins? I said "y'all" cause you and the whore dyin' Wet floor sign, niggas even slide on Caution {Some people in the crowd starts yelling out "3-0"} Speakin' of Caution when I seen y'all prom pictures I liked the screen I said, "Who the FUCK was Bobby and Whitney for Halloween?" Y'all looked a fuckin' mess, like y'all channeled the inner fiend within Don't you put that funny lookin' bitch in another shiny dress with a slick back and present it as yo' queen again Leanin' in, with a right hook that'll lean ya chin Break ya face make Roc look 16 again It's G.O.D. and if ya life fucked- man time man, let's go {Debo tries to stop Kyd Slade from immediately walking off the stage}