ROUND 1
[Tay Roc]
You faggot fiend, I’ll give you half of the magazine
Do you dirty, speaking of dirty, I do you bad as Qleen
Think when Ricky got shot, or Bishop got dropped, this about to be a tragic scene
I couldn’t wait for this match, just for you, I brought the gas to lean
You think you’re the king? Well that nigga had a dream
‘Til he met a nigga like me that had a scheme
And a rusty revolver that didn’t have a gleam
Like a carpenter, bang on his roof with the hammer out the craftsman’s jeans
That was mean, but I’m know to take it past extreme
Find your trap house and attack your team like the tactic team
Facts, machines to his chest if he have me steamed
Bullet in his head while he’s asleep, nigga I shatter dreams
Peep, gun bars for my first impression
Strapped with the DE, SK, you’re trying to learn a lesson? You ever heard of Heaven?
Man I hit Calicoe with a calico then bury Calicoe with the murder weapon
When you heard you was battling Roc, you was nervous, sweating
Got to talking shit on Twitter, I’m like “who this herb addressing?”
I’ll come to Detroit, pull straight up to that curb he repping
This’ll drop 30, I call the shit that I carry Stephen
If you want the drama, I might intervene
I’ll make a buck 50 look like a slight guillotine
Nigga, I X men, I work with minds like I’m Jean
You’ll see AR’s talking like Lightning McQueen
I thought of this breakfast scheme while making grits
Why fool around, after the biscuit crack your egg, your bae can strip
The toast, French, I’ma let it erase his shit
Hole in him like a bagel, I’ll send some men, they’re raising shit
Then I smoke the blunt, I got the munchies, then I came with this
I ‘ll put a potato on the barrel if you don’t give Tay the chips
For the cheese, stakes is high, I’ma make it lit
Grill me if you want, the blade will fish fillet your shit
Y’all niggas is turkey and chicken for ducking
But turkey, chicken, duck-, put it together, that is turducken
Nigga, I ain’t gonna talk about your case, I don’t fight with words
Eagle and hawk with me, you ain’t the only one that fight with birds
This dickhead got a lot of mouth, fellatio
‘Til I start handing out bucks like the Wayne Brady Show
Terraneo, try to play me though
You gon’ get it like Raheem in Juice, naw Raheem with the radio
Let him know I send niggas to where it gets lonely
You seen what I did to Dollaz, I put that young thug in the sky, you can be rich, homie
I’ll leave this nigga from Detroit lying when I let a flock go, I came from Baltimore with the fifth on me
Cal, you ain’t tryna do that, I’ll body you cats
Chill, this kickback ain’t tryna relax
Like shopping at the LIDS store store, I’ll hit his top with a cap
When I let something new air on the side of your hat
God I am back, and I ain’t playing with him
Y’all gon’ make me hit him
Take his work from him and say it’s mine; that’s plagiarism
The gauge will hit him
I done JC, Ill Will, Qleen Pa-, you will get the most, I’m showing favoritism
You better have everybody praying for him
And praying with him
Fuck a battle, you should’ve trained for a freight collision
I don’t care if his lady with him, I aim to get him
The scope got supervision, I’ll catch his baby sitting
You said Surf had the infrared beam and he ran up on me?
I’ll put that nigga Surf in the trunk, you’re ‘bout to give him some company
No strings attached, that’s puppetry
Smack fuck with me ‘cause I son these niggas
I sign them over to custody
That’s light
[Calicoe]
Free my nigga G, free my nigga Cheeks
I hate when niggas ask me for a rematch
We shouldn’t have to do no recaps
Ayo Smack, look where we at
They tried to throw me Roc like I ain’t see that
I’m ‘bout to catch him off the glass like I’m T-Mac
They got me back on Summer Madness again
This shit is starting to feel like Summer Madness again
Smack told me I got to get back in my old bag for the win
I said the old we gon’ be dragging him in?
I ain’t saying don’t disrespect, my niggas
Go ahead and handle your career
But these niggas the wrong niggas
And they may handle it from here
My advice, take everything and handle it with care
Jumanji, one wrong roll and them animals appear
Pick one, test ‘em Roc, any of them brawl
You’re a fool if you think Roc wilder than any of my dogs
I’ve seen your last shit, Tsu damn near made you lay down
I went [?] on him, I was moving puppy chow on the Greyhound
With a chrome bulldog, use it so much, that bitch gray now
Back in the day I would cock a Spaniel
But Cortez is being away now
I got a young pup that want to prove something
I told him “make me a believer”
He said “he wanted to kidnap that blue-haired bitch”
I told him “go there, retrieve her”
That wasn’t light, we go heavy with the bars
I was just all over the dog shit; Craig daddy in the yard
They ask if dog got dogs, I said “Naw, dog got dog”
He be putting dog on dogs back when dogs was dog
It was a misunderstanding
See, Roc tripping and I don’t understand it
‘Cause Roc be pitching
But Roc be missing ‘cause he underhanded
They say New York shit, I feel like we on another planet
This Easy Money, I remember my box being stuck in transit
But you ain’t a hustler
You couldn’t even catch what I can send you
We’re eating good
Just think of Smack stretching out this venue
Ay, 75 out, my legs locking into this ring
See, you don’t listen to my music
‘Cause you ain’t been where I been through, nigga
From the look of things, you ain’t into to what I’m into, nigga
You joined the Dots, they’re all shrimps
You’re a shrimp too, nigga
Really, what make you different? ‘Cause you say you is it?
Don’t nobody want to hear the truth until you make them listen
We rhyme through Baltimore
Salute to Wire, but let’s pay a visit
Salute to URL, ‘cause he dying over their decisions
Salute to Charlie Clips for killing him twice, that’s a hell of a precision
But I only need one shot, call the Dots and tell ‘em he missing
Call them niggas, tell ‘em we lurking
Tough on the net, but we can see they’re scared of us in person
We’re ‘bout to build the label up and have all of y’all working
Mook could’ve did this shit, but he was for the wrong purpose
Cave Dots, since you joined them, you’re in the same spot
Look how they slaved Roc
He repping like they paid Roc, he should’ve saved Roc
Now I got them crying at his grave
Bat, bat! I’m Bruce Wayne, they’re flying through the Cave
Why niggas act like they can’t be dying here today?
‘Cause all you niggas can
Circle the block, I’m trying to hit that one nigga that ran
This Smack fault, he be charging the fuck out of this man
Now he done fucked up, like logging a nigga out of his Gram
Trust me, this is ‘cause when Smack kept calling
This was not in my plan
I swear this was not in my plans, man these niggas is hams
Most these niggas be fans, and I be reading these niggas
They always talk about the streets
But who believe in these niggas?
When I look at them
There’s something I don’t see in these niggas
On my momma, I don’t think it's this much G in these niggas
Especially for this simple fact
They roll with clowns like this fat ass nigga
Up the pound, come here and be my new hashtag, nigga
I had them killers wrap them towels around their head
From the crowd to where I’m saying
Cal look like he had a bunch of niggas from Baghdad with him
So you just talk them gun bars
You rap about how your shotty spit
I talk that, Fat Cat, Big Meech, and Maserati Rick that
Southwest T, T Stuckey, and that crimey shit
They call me Calicoe, but it ain’t the first gun that I caught a body with
Landslide, nigga
ROUND 2
[Tay Roc]
I forgot to welcome you back, Cal
Oh, that’s ‘cause you’re not important
And it’s like they’re heavy metal fans; I got them waiting on every Roc performance
That bar you think you’re gonna violate me?
I will rock you on it
I ain’t Pat Stay, nigga, you will get shot for doing it
You’ll see the difference between him and him
Cal think he’s tough ‘cause he bullied a white boy that eat steroids like they’re M&M’s
You know about antonyms and synonyms?
Well if I catch your aunt and ‘em
Guess where I’m sending ‘em?
I got a shooter named Frank, lend him a Benjamin
For ten on them, he’ll have that uz spitting like a gremlin
Act feminine, I’ll leave you curling, iron will have your wig blow out like you went to see the Dominicans
I’m sick of him, screaming “BMF”, like he got Rich and them
Who told him he was G, his uncle Trick, tricking him
I was there for you vers’ Arsonal in Michigan
And if I was Ars, I’d never ever come out that bitch again
Ayo, I was standing behind Ars
Thinking “what type of shit you in?”
Ars was like “what them niggas, cuz”
Trembling in his Timberlands
He said “Suge had that shotgun”, but then remembered him
I’ma save the rest of that story for when I get to him
Back to you, I told Brizz about this style of mine
Smack won’t let me host no battles, I got a violent mind
Y’all thought this was gon’ be crazy, I know this pal of mine
That will kill him, picture Toranio vers’ this cal of mine
How can I lose to a nigga this instance?
You’re weak, fresh out of bars like you just finished the sentence
Now, I ain’t gonna say you was skinny dipping with niggas
But in that picture, you was skinny dipping with invisible bitches
I actually am a savage, get to clapping him in his cabbage
Show up to the funeral, get to smacking him in his casket
You waited this long to battle me? You’re a faggot
You’ll get a clip of the desert; that’s National Geographics
Tell him this, if I don’t like the words off his breath a bit
He’ll get a fresh round in his mouth; that’s a peppermint
Chopper sounds like a helicopter, I start propelling shit
Double barrel look like I snatched the trunk off an elephant
I’m what you call it when I hit on that lottery ticket
Bred to win
Somebody tell him this land mine
Watch what you’re stepping in
I can bring God and the Devil, Hell and the Heaven and
Seventeen in the clip; that’s the Ten Commandments and the Seven Sins
You dug you a ditch, I dare you bug in this bitch
I got shells like a snail, I’ll dump a slug in his shit
I put Cal on life support, while he plugged to the shit
I’m like “give me the plug this fronting you shit
Or I’m unplugging this shit”
Who rugged as this? If I want you bread, I’ma use the toaster
I can’t use a holster, this shit the size of a Super Soaker
You a douja, you ain’t got no game, boy
You want your bitch back but your ex box got a new controller
My goon will smoke you and send you to see your maker
You’ll there find your thoughts on a piece of paper
Blaow, for thinking I’m Math, Cal, see you later
Facts, if you can’t calculate that, then you know naything
We got goons in every state in the whole nation
Fuck with me, I have niggas after the show waiting, no faking
Once Cal see ‘em, bones breaking
I tried to tell him he don’t want none with me
Battle rapping ain’t a job to me, that shit is fun to me
Fuck a scheme, angle, punch, it’s ‘bout a gun to me
A gun is the only thing that get the job done for me
Dead, nigga
[Calicoe]
Every time he say a gun bar, I visualize a cap gun
My first round was so cold
Y’all forgetting that I only rapped once
This battle shit is getting absurd now
I observed how you let a nigga with no third rounds kill you with his third round
Yeah I see the irony in this
I got to kill a nigga with all of the guns ‘fore I get the firing at Clips
See, the Dots, they got me pissed, I never respect these bitches
These mags gon’ make four of y’all fall
When I connect these bitches
But look at you, you still think it’s a game
Until that chopper out
I already dealt with Brixx, now I’m trying to see what Roc about
Soon as we pulled up, he extending his hand, copping out
He a bitch, I don’t know if I want to pop him or knock him out
Riding with the ruger with a few shooters
Spend a check on that pussy
I’m trying to end this nigga’s future
So the Dots gon’ be there for you when we pull up?
No, the Dots gon’ be in Harlem when we fuck your whole hood up
You joined a clique hours from your town
How your hood tough?
You’re from the county, my real Baltimore niggas stood up
You see me in your city
Was getting money when we pulled up
And real recognize real, they knew they couldn’t jook us
Don’t fuck with me, I just don’t understand
Smack told me he was a wanted man
You know I always kill who he wanted dead
Ever since he caught me talking ‘bout Ill
It ain’t to put no money on his head
On my way to STL, there ain’t no stopping him
Funded my own trip and still brought them choppers with me
This nigga better have a doctor with him
Knife game good, I’m ‘bout to stop a kidney
Adding fuel to the fire
In the streets for real, but still a fool in the cypher
Get him murdered for half off, my shooter’s a swiper
No lie, they’ll get him for half off
And for another stack, he gon’ do it with his mask off
Who pops shit? they think Roc it? That’s when they blast off
So many K’s, I need a [?], these all fast balls
I serve the bass, I serve the bass
Randy Johnson, bust birds open over the plate
See he just talk them gun bars, gun that, gun this
If the beef pop right now, I bet y’all ain’t even got a gun to go get
I’m in my bag, looking for a tag that his toe fit
And tell Drake it ain’t a nigga on the planet could say he wrote this
I don’t get it, it ain’t like I’m taking up for Meek
But I just witnessed my people turning on me for a Canadian and I’m a nigga from the streets
So I don’t get it, but we ain’t about to work up a sweat
I knew Meek was a real nigga when he had Nicki twerking the [?]
Moment of silence for the chopper boy, moment of silence for my nigga Dots
Shit real where I come from, and nobody think about no deals where I come from
Talked to ‘em yesterday, and now he killed where I come from
How you think I feel? Bitch, I still live where I come from
I come from where buffs and rollies is a trophy
Ten bands is to go
You know you can make it to a hundred long as your mans don’t fold
And then it’s off into the millions, real estate, buying all the buildings
In the mist of all of this, they’re trying to kill you
Living in a world where it’s way more fake niggas than real ones
So now I’m in a situation of where the masses can’t feel me
Shoebox Money dropped on iTunes today, go and get that bitch if you’re trying to figure out the real me
Let’s go
ROUND 3
[Tay Roc]
I ain’t the type to see a situation
And speak upon what I rather do
You know, ‘cause everybody say what they would've did ‘til they’re the ones that it happened to
You tried to set Suge up in Detroit ‘cause you was scared to throw a smack for Proof?
Miles, Marv, X, I’m taken Detroit from Cal
And giving it back to you
Let me rap with you, who said this would be classical?
When the niggas that you sent at me ain’t better than me, that’s factual
JC, outrapping you, QP will make us laugh at you
Ill Will would’ve probably ended up smacking you, nigga
You think you’re tough ‘cause of the shit you did to Pat?
You picked the right one
Couldn’t picture you doing that shit to Math
I couldn’t picture you doing that shit to Suge
Or doing that shit to me, my nigga, I wish you would
If I’m in his hood, find him and let this nigga know
When I see him, that he coming up off of his dinner rolls
I’ll pull the gun out like “why’d you bring them out if you can’t spend them for”
The money he kicked out, I could’ve bet that shit on a 10 to 4
I clap it ‘til it got a temperature, that’s a scary sight
I’ma wind up in a cell, see us ain’t fair in height
I’m very nice and prepared to fight
You’ll get your head clapped with the four five, six will send him to paradise
[?] knife
Buck 50, he gon' come out the hospital sounding like Barry White
Yeah this dude could be bonier, but you’re Cuban zirconium
In the ring, you shine, but you ain’t very bright
Fucking dummy, the hell with him
This stupid motherfucker got caught for fighting chickens instead of selling them
I got a plug out in Cali too that be mailing them
Cops kicked my door for the peas, but I ain’t tell on them
I bailed out, beat the case, and got all papers for that
September 10th of this year, just got off probation for that
I ain’t asked my PO when I had to make it to Smack
I ain’t give a fuck about getting caught out of state long as I made it to rap
Fact, this is why Tay’s the truth
‘Cause from the fans, I take the abuse
And I don’t never make an excuse
Smack, they turned their back and betray for the loot
You just keep giving them enough rope, I’ma make it a noose
It’s clear that I’m given a shot, Bombay
Get shot while it’s broad day, it’ll fuck up your broad day
Iron buck, it look like lightning struck in the hallway
Leave big boy in a flat out cask like Andre
You told us about your dad, Big Meech, and all of the details
We know you’re from Detroit
Stop telling us all of these D tales
We had enough, but it’s time that I shut this faggot up
Put his face in an obituary like when he battled Lux
Now what’s up? I should’ve told Lux “bring that casket up”
‘Cause when you battled him
That was the wake, this where the casket shut
Who the next nigga from Detroit that I have to battle? Fuck
I’ll hit Quest shin with the axe until the hatchet’s stuck
The ratchet tucked, I’ll send Cal to Heaven
You spit a bunch of dumb shit with wild aggression
The best 300 I spent was on a strap investment
Bought this uzi in 2004, nigga, my mac 11
You gonna beat me? No, still niggas lying
Tell him like I told the others, I don’t feel niggas’ rhymes
Who he fooling with the steel gripping lines?
Fucking with me, you’ll get smacked, real, real nigga time
[Calicoe]
Aye I got a question
Clap it up if y’all see that we just proved that gun bar thing
No? I’m King Joffery Joffer, he’s just Prince Akeem
I really did that dirt under them gloves with the prints not seen
See you in a box, but he’s getting boxed, I ain’t Prince Naseem
So fuck them gun bars, there’s way more important things in the battle shit
Well I’m an analyst, and there’s multiple reasons on why you’re average
You think this battle shit, you’re just showing up talking ‘bout how your matic spit
But you don’t talk to niggas, Roc, you just bark at niggas, Roc
Look how I walk them niggas, watch, and kill ‘em from angles that’s least expected
Clips don’t love you, he killed you twice
And he ain’t teach this lesson
You’ve been here way before me, Roc
I know, I know you’re wondering how I keep progressing
Aye Smack, it look like I’m the senior and he’s the freshman
But he had ten battles before I’ve even met Smack
Now I bet that there’s niggas at home taking their bets back
I catch lil’ Roc in my hood, he’ll get his neck snapped
And stash his body where I got the bricks; now that’s a death trap
I hope it ain’t none of my niggas that he spoke about
I bet the house
My little soldiers will take your soldiers out
Or we can square up, one on one, don’t want to go that route?
Well I can let these guns speak for me
But one of them a motor mouth
It talk too much like I gave it a clip of Adderall
Give him the whole catalog, kill this nigga with sandals on
That’s my shit, bet you know I wasn’t worried about nothing
But momma be looking in my eyes like “you’re worried about something”
She know me, Summer Madness, I’m here to fill the drama
Who been here since day 1? Nigga I’m still the problem
They asked why I ain’t focus on this shit, ‘cause I got realer problems
I’m hoping he don’t say nothing that’ll make me kill his momma
I’m hoping he don’t say nothing, tell him to keep it silent
I hope you don’t say nothing that’s gon’ me go and get Jemiah
That’s his daughter, but he lucky that I love the kids
‘Cause he on stage talking like he don’t love to live
Remember run in the cribs like “where your brother live?”
But niggas telling me stories ‘bout what their brothers did
Some shit, you just can’t explain
Like you joining the Dots
You thought that was the money train?
You make me want to slap the shit out of Damon Wayans
Ain’t no way I’ma join another group of niggas and my career ain’t gon’ make a change
Aye, that’s what these battle niggas do for fame
His tail probably was wagging when Mook was like “yeah, you can hang” and then the nigga found out Mook a lame
These niggas faker than these Cuban chains
Aye Smack, this was a mismatch, the worst kind
Last time we seen this face, it was the Clips match, the first time
Clip hanging out like a parenthesis, watch me reverse something
Glock popping in his window while his miss twerk something
I hate niggas that be fronting for the booth
When it’s danger, I’ll drain ‘em, put a gutter in his roof
Who’s is Dot Mob? The fans don’t know nothing but Mook
You said I was Isaiah getting pissed on? Wrong era, I’m Chauncey Billups, I don’t do nothing but shoot
Nine bullets with nine lives, I kill cats
My life like a game of Jenga, it builds stacks
He try to roll up on me, but his wheel’s flat
Smack, he’s coming at Shoebox with Jae Millz stats
After a nigga battle me, I make him feel wack
‘Cause it’s a difference between metaphors and real rap
Landslide
