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don't flop - shotty horroh vs. arsonal lyrics

[round 1: shotty horroh]
some said i wasn’t gonna show up
well, that’s what the talking’s about
but i show up for the showdown
to show off when the show’s on for all of the crowd
i am here; applyin’ fear, like a .44 or a hawk in your mouth
when someone forces you to withdraw an amount
more than a mortgage and house out of your storage account
i am fear, like walking towards that last zombie corpse on the ground after you’ve used all of your rounds
and you’re not sure if he’s down
you are scared, it’s unfair, that’s why he needs to bring his mates to portray he’s some john gotti
but our names says it all
he needs an arsonal and i just need that one shotty
“we don’t talk about guns here, sunshine!”
because you don’t know the customs in our bits
london man will roll up to the club with two old muskets rolled up in a carpet folded under their armpits
unroll the rug to expose the type of guns that look like trumpets or something you used to use for hunt in safaris
point it right in your face
without so much than a yard between the gun and the target
buck will put the finishing touches
to the predator look this motherf-cker has started
tell that crab with the dreads he isn’t f-cking with arnie
but wait, i’m a white guy, from england
and i have no business talking about that “crip” sh-t
but i do want to talk about that b-tch sh-t
when you nearly got your wig split by trick trick
you told him you didn’t know shotgun suge
then got on stage and admitted that you did, pr-ck
soon as you let that sh-t slip
we saw your face change and your pitch shift
you noticed you wasn’t in your district
you was probably on his hitlist, so you gave calicoe the puppy dog eyes and tried hopping onto his d-ck
you denied knowing suge like peter denied jesus
we can take this sh-t to the biblics!
whereas i will die for my brothers
and those i have chose to live with
i will refer to those from all religions
i don’t promote the holy scriptures
all i’m saying, the minute you deny the folks you sit with
it exposed the b-tch in that soldier image
what did you think, bro? you was gonna roll to england
and face some over british chauffer-driven
bloke that flows about tea, toast and biscuits
crickets and bowling wickets?
what did you think, i wouldn’t expose you like the photo pictures
loaded up by loaded lux of calicoe when he was goin’ swimmin’?
p-ssy, know your limits!
what did you think, bro?
i wasn’t as cold as most of them old folks in your own division
and i would have leaved you voted with them?
i don’t give a f-ck if it’s no votes and no decisions
the people at home have a right to their own opinions
and the polls and posts are gonna show the business
this is for the folks at home to witness – focus, listen
how can this man hear me?
i’m leaving arsonal in a predicament like van persie
when they transferred him
you wanna talk about gat burstin’ and crack servin’
p-ssy, i know you don’t put that work in
only time arsonal lets shooters go is to mancini or that tw-t fergie
says he’s a gangsta though
but if he’s catching bodies then why’s he touring?
if they’ve got warrants out for the glocks he’s fired
and he opt to fly then the cops’ll find him, surely?
but when they did that background check-out
and his background checked out
they didn’t stop him tryin’ to board it
it was like they finished top 4 the way arsonal qualified for europe
don’t flop all f-cking day!

[round 1: arsonal]
once again i’m here, in another cracker’s country
in another cracker’s face, takin’ another cracker’s money
now if this cracker crack a smile
i’ma say ain’t nothin’ f-ckin’ funny
you are ugly; in the uk, -rs-nal’s a household name
a known fact that’ll get you far
wait, i used that against conceited
i gotta give this shotty b-tch a different bar
my last two opponents both sniffed c0ke
but through a different straw
since you like football, i’ll chop your head off your shoulders, mate
and kick that sh-t before it hit the floor
you’d sure fly across this room
break every lamp and dent the door
all before it fall into the goal! i did all that just to score
you the type to put a date rape drug in a drink, don’t hit the wh0r-
you got too much pride to ask for my “ortograrf”
so you still ask me for my signature
now, last night i was this close to d-ck his lover
i walked out the bedroom to get the rubber
come back, lift the covers
his b-tch in my bed… f-ckin’ stifler’s mother
little freak b-tch, every day of the week b-tch
she wanna snap into a slim jim
ooh yeah, and slobber on that beef stick
real talk, no jokin’, i’ll f-ck you up on some g sh-t
then do it again a lil’ different and call it the “beat yo’ -ss remix”
wait, wait, wait, i said that too
ness was the beat yo’ -ss remix
so shotty, i might have to beat yo’ -ss truly
they gon’ film me beatin’ yo’ -ss and make a beat yo’ -ss movie
i’ma get -ss off beatin’ yo’ -ss
from one of these beat yo’ -ss groupies
then have my homeboys come carjack you
for your beat-up -ss hoopdie
now, i feel as though the best place to write rhymes is on the toilet or on an aircraft
i mean, i see straight through the garbage you got in store for me
your raps clear trash
now, i’ll strap you on a new year jag doing 95 on a deathpath
so when you crash, syringe needles and razors pop out the airbag
you got a vest on? headshot
you got a helmet? neckshot
ruger in my right hand, two straps, in the left glock
it’s funny how your body went from flesh to a wet spot
i’m squeezin’ down on my left and right trigger to shoot
like i’m still playin’ my xbox
what would you do for a klondike?
let me guess, you’d f-ck that big ang b-tch from the mob wives
that bl!cker ring, i’m hittin’ things
your whole career was just side swiped
unanymous intervened
dna throw him in the chicken wing without the fried rice
now, to beat me, you gon’ need street fighters: ken and ryu
you gon’ need megan good’s mom’s voodoo doll from eve’s bayou
two midgets on mopeds with broke legs to breeze by you
and a book on how to deceive, that means adam need eve’s bible
you big f-g, i’ll run up on your pop, slap his dad
give him whiplash, then put a hand grenade in his sh-tbag
you a b-tch–ss cracker who wouldn’t ride if this was six flags
i swear to god, i’ll put every word on the st-tchin’ on my crip flag
i’m out in london on some ape sh-t
grape sh-t, bandana on my face sh-t
have him muted, this n-gga wouldn’t say sh-t
he unable to talk: he the n-gga to catch a case with!
i’ll call him “amnesia”: your memory get erased quick
let me put my hands up and step back for this
’cause if you a g in any way, shape or form, you should react to this
if you got any respect for the relatives that p-ssed
i should get slapped for this
what i’m sayin’ is, i shouldn’t be able to say another motherf-ckin’ word after this
but i’m glad your uncle dead, fathead
he wasn’t nothin’ but a knucklehead crackhead
with a head full of ringworms and a face full of blackheads
he deserved to get caught in the crossfire when that mac spread
and if god gave him a second chance at life
i’d wish him back dead!
on some wild guy sh-t, i’d go to his grave, dig him up
chop his body and smoke his ashes on some how high sh-t
and as soon as his ghost appear
i’ma turn into dan aykroyd and hit him with that ghostbuster
just to make sure the coast is clear
and when i meet him in the upper room
after the angels bring supper to him
i swear to god, we gon’ stomp him in front of jesus
me and a hundred goons
now, if i’m lyin’, i’m dyin’ and i ain’t dead, so here’s the topic
last night, i was on a stage at a rave
and a crowd was formin’ a moshpit
i seen a n-gga gettin’ shot, brutally beat, dropkicked
and a vietnamese gangsta done stabbed a n-gga with a chopstick
i’m thinkin’ in my head, “d-mn, that’s some nasty–ss sh-t!”
out the corner of my eye, i see this nasty–ss b-tch
it was shotty horroh’s mom flashin’ them saggy–ss t-ts
i told my dawg put his paws on her, he lil’ scr-ppy’d that b-tch
three minutes!
listen, i get love in the room from the men, women and children
and tell that f-ckin’ security guard i’m the only thug in the building

[round 2: shotty horroh]
this is saw, i am jigsaw – you wanna play a game, don?
don’t flop got some kinda hype
and you’ve tried to walk through this door with that sensor beam
so i constructed a trap attached to the frame’s lock
a 12-gauge prop with its aim locked and a brain shot
soon as you get your foot in the chain pops
breaks off, forcing a mechanism to press the trigger
and give him ghostface features like a tape of raekwon’s
what i’m saying is, it’s a trap; he walked into that sensa
and walked into a shotty takin’ his face off!
you wanna box like rocky, we can do that asap
i’m diddy behind them hooks like, “take that! take that!”
your boys might jump in, you look like wale so they may back
but you in england right now
and i know this one motherf-cker called “payback”
you gonna dread locking up with me
this won’t be no close shave, fam
you won’t let the chrome spark
you have no arms, i should’ve battled ahab
i’m about to go from the culture you oppose of
and vulture-look at the money grab and make cash
see, i’m about the science, he’s about the math
that means we are not the same cl-ss
i roll up on him while he’s listenin’ to his drake tracks
with a blade that’ll take off that lil wayne mask

[ghetts: he’s f-cking g-ssing me up!]

you’ll pull out squidward’s clarinet, but you don’t play that
you’ll have blades travel down you faster than skate ramps
or wesley snipes on a train track
you’re fake, i’m in a position to say that
’cause when i’m gonna off man like dustin
i’ll see all the matches like rain man
he sounds like he about to say
“hey! smokey back here takin’ a sh-t!”
that makes me think that you blaze crack
you this hyper ’cause you burn stones in white ace cans
and you’re ashamed, so you cover up the burning like kane’s mask
so you moved down south?
they’re just gonna start finding your needles in haystacks
addiction is a sickness, you are ill – that’s why you hate smack
every time you hear his name you want to do 8 grams
and make a vein collapse
and stop talkin’ about midgets, ’cause i motherf-ckin’ hate that!
no, no, that’s not it
i’m sayin’ midgets are really cool people
but they are though, they’re just misunderstood
and just for that
i hope an oompa loompa gives a footrub to your mum
she ends up with an ewok in her mouth and a munchkin in her c-nt
w-nkin’ seven dwarves while mini-me and willow cover her in c-m
you could never talk about people’s physical appearances when you look like both kenan and kel
you look up to small people
you wanna be like illmac and conceited as well
you believe midgets are little magical demons with spells
that don’t receive any l’s
and that’s why he dropped to his knees against dizaster
just to see if it would help
look at his face though, he’s scared to death
what kind of f-cking crip shows up to the bits wearing red?!

[round 2: arsonal]
i knew you would say somethin’ about my battle with dizaster
that’s your downfall, shotty, you one predictable–ss rapper
your girlfriend got the same physical features as fat b-st-rd
her stomach stick out further than her booty do
that b-tch literally -ss-backwards
let a n-gga come to my city talkin’ them real-n-gga lines
i’ma show him, in my city we like to k!ll n-ggas’ moms
see, all the real n-ggas is dead or in jail
only a few real n-ggas rhyme
i never seen a clock or a casket in a cell
so in my book, smack, ain’t no such thing as real n-gga time
y’all wanna know why i didn’t battle on the last smack?
you can have that, that ain’t even what i’m mad at
i’ll change numbers, if they can’t dial jones
they stock drop like the nasdaq
i’ll pistol whip your skull ’til calicoe get his dad back
i said no fingerprints on the gun, my gloves made out of glad wrap
so if i hit you with a straight right, then you ent-tled to jab back
i’m tryin’ new sh-t in this battle, experimentin’ with a lab rat
i ain’t even takin’ you serious
this some comical sh-t to laugh at
i can never get tired of fans, i mean as long as it’s not a stan
i went from math to a klu klux klan member hologram
you look like a white supremist chemist that’s part of a taliban
who talk tough in his rap, with the heart of juwanna mann
i’ll sn-tch your soul like shang tsung
slit your throat with kitana fan
then grab the robert downey jr. off my waist
that’s that iron, man
i own uw battle league, but i started in the lionz den
i’ll have you in a coffin tellin’ stories
that mean in a casket you lyin’ in
that’ll teach this homie not to ever falsify again
my mission’s to defeat you ’til they greet you in a higher land
i’m in a riot van, strapped like a cop, dressed like a fireman
when my cannon start wildin’ out, i ain’t talkin’ mariah man
now let me ask you: have you ever been in a jail cell?
have you ever heard a ruger go off besides h-ll rell?
do you have the mind-power to turn a dyk- b-tch into a girl girl?
and get the same beats free that kanye and pharell sell?
no, ’cause you ain’t like me, now you don’t like me
you threatenin’ to swing, just do it! oh, you ain’t nike
eurgh said you the best and i shouldn’t take you lightly
but i only came to f-ck three british b-tches and sightsee
this is no comparison, switchblade your abdomen
squeeze down your vocal chords, shotty’ll never rap again
in a few days the whole world’ll see what these cameras capturin’
a million views guaranteed and i bet you they want me back again
i’m streetsmart and book smart
white boy, you just look smart
if life was an automobile, it’s a suburban
and you only gon’ find me in the hood parts
let me break that down, i said: i’m streetsmart and book smart
white boy, you just look smart
if life was an automobile, it’s in the suburbs
and you only gon’ find me in the hood parts
obviously i was brought up ’round poverty
psychologically, i got the mind power to separate you from the thug that you disguised to be
since views don’t lie and i got the whole world watchin’ me
a science lesson is what this gotta be
on how to break down an adam properly
now, i wanted to physically get at him
so i went on twitter to add him
i found out his name was adam
so i gotta break down an adam
see, the definition of “atom” is the basic unit of matter
so when your mother named you adam
she was inferring, basically, you didn’t matter
same name, spelt different, but with the same definition
i mean if adam and atom is adam, i mean, that ain’t repet-tion
but if adam’s without eve, then men are strong and he’s livin’ proof
but you a f-ggot, ’cause you let a p-ssy trick you
into bitin’ the forbidden fruit
that’s when god sent me down here
to sn-tch every bit of confidence from your conscience
since you tried and convince the world of your accomplishments i’m your consequence
i’ma derail the n-ggas you ridin’ with
televise the sh-t, revise the script
then keep on shootin’ rounds out a chopper clip
now, i could break down your life in eight bars
you really ain’t hard, you a fake fraud who used to play ball
in battle rap you the ray charles, meaning you ain’t seein’ n0body
but actin’ like beatin’ me really ain’t hard
your chances slimmer than big t in china
runnin’ a marathon on the great wall
wait, y’all, if he front linin’, i’ll shoot him in his 8-ball
all y’all clothes gon’ be red like y’all was hit with all red paintb-lls
my goons travel with me, so i barely gotta make calls
you wanna be a leader?
stand in front of lebron on a fast break, n-gga, take charge
i hate y’all… and “hate” is a strong word
but i just cooked, k!lled, buried this n-gga – them all verbs
an action word describin’ the pain that i caused
and it all serves the same purpose
your life’s a circus, you clown n-ggas is all herbs
you a herb, i’m a smoker though
i’m walkin’ round with a pinocchio
that’s a long nose with a long range so i’m hittin’ targets in tokyo
when that bullet hits you, it make you say “aah”
you my jun jun, you lil’ romeo
you a b-tch and a snitch so i’m lettin’ all your little homies know
now, like i said before…
everybody in the building love me: men, women and children
tell the security guard one more time
i’m the only thug in this building!

[round 3: shotty horroh]
eurgh, this is my main event? i’m not even part stressed
that’s some cheap wayne lookin’ t-pain fell asleep on a park bench with a large head lookin’ like a klingon from star trek
he loves crippin’ up, but since he f-cks with them bloods
he’s an unfinished book ’cause he’s part red
but who you reppin’, dude?
you’re both red and blue, like the second suit of clark kent
well, i’m the kryptonite to this crip tonight
lex luther, forget mook, i’m your arch-nemesis, heartless
what happens when those bloods and crips have a disagreement?
what does your heart rep?
do you rep that flag, and dead that man
’cause his garms red, even though you half-bred?
or do you rep the friendship you have
from standin’ next to that man through war talk and calm threats
and k!ll your own like saddam’s men and bin laden?
what did you think, there was no sp-ce in my graveyard left?
this is wrong, i mean ron, you could never give ar tests
you say your hands blue like hypothermia?
that’s not what my gangsta radar said
all you reds and blues flaggin’ together look like the union jack
and you can get your little union jacked for tryna claim our set!
this is a blue gettin’ caught red-handed
same time i’ll have his palms read
i can read your future, it says if you ever had horroh scope
you was tryna find out what the alignment of the stars said
i don’t know a shadow about the tarot
but let me tell you what the cards read: murder
plus i shuffle with a half deck, and every singe card’s “death”
this is how it’s meant to be done
here’s how you decompile an -rs-nal into fractions and bits
this is someone that claims to have beat dizaster
this is someone that actually did!
with all due respect it’s not about the flag that you grip
it’s about the fact that your mans a slag with a d-ck
that will sh-g her actual kids
for a drag off your spliff or a packet of crisps
let’s talk about his mum though, ’cause she’s a sl-t
her p-ssy’s got fallopian tubes
that are growing and ooze
that’s left the p-ssy swollen and bruised
and smelling like smouldering fumes
every time your dad tries to poke with his tool
he disturbs a million crabs tryin’ to go for a snooze
as they hold on her p-b-s
she got f-cked off every rapper in here
on camera, it looked like an actual cypher
i mean i f-cked her, she got p-ssed to delypher
she had unan and pamflit beside her, p-ssing a cider
sh-t, we need some more camera angles on her nasty v-g-n-
so we opened up the f-cking nasty v-g-n-
put bodybagnall and his camera and flyer
sh-t, even sam the graphic designer smashed her
and p-ssed on the flyer!
now you’re in another cracker’s face
on another cracker’s stage, wishin’ that he didn’t battle
oh my god, shotty done f-cked another kid up
hip hop jimmy saville!
and your dreads look stupid as f-ck!
you’re always causing fights in your battles
i find that sh-t more than pathetic
i find it ironic that the source of the beef is always da relish

[round 3: arsonal]
i blame you, white boy, for 100 years of slavery
don’t play with me, you seen me murder a n-gga from a to z
but that was a tutorial, i was just teachin’ n-ggas to see the way
i knew my alphabet since 3
i’m 25, don’t you know i can k!ll a n-gga from z to a?
for example: i’ll hit him why he nappin’ catchin’ z’s
your brother ask, “why (y) you do that?”
i say his ex (x) pay for it
and if she double, you (w) gettin’ blew back
i got a red op like the v a in the mornin’
with a folder full of missions with pictures and you (u) on it
9 under my t-shirt, p-ssenger of that s-cl-ss
comin’ to where you are (u, r), any questions: just ask
any q-uestions, just ask
i got a half a p on my trunk, two o’s on the dashboard
listenin’ to “renegade” and em (n, m) verse on fast forward
l lit, so i’m smokin’, o-k, i’m a pot head
murdered this white b-tch like o-j to get away from the cop feds
see, i know that this gold h on my belt cost lots of dough
and as a g it’s up to me to make the choice that i gotta flow
if i see your b-tch i’ma f her, on sight, no effort
give her two e pills and give her hard d for breakfast
now you see (c) how intelligent i can be (b)
when i’m on my a game
that was the alphabetical “orda” “slorta”
in reverse, shotty horroh
now, they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
quick draw, you wouldn’t see it as it rises from the holster
’cause my shooter is my driver, he disguises as a chauffeur
to keep the element of surprise but bring the violence a lil’ closer
if you don’t understand that, then your street-smarts is on r-t-rd
and you was brought into this world
with a default called a weak heart
your little brother trick-or-treat, i’ll spray anthrax on his sweet tarts
then write a rhyme, describin’ the crime
spittin’ a line as soon as the beat start
you a f-g! – wait, i’m not gonna call you a f-g
’cause like dna said, out here “f-g” means cigarette
but you a b-tch–ss n-gga!
wait, you white, you ain’t even a n-gga yet!
you a punk–ss white boy who gets tough over the internet
facin’ an ignant–ss black n-gga full of hatred and disrespect
so i close my eyes and drift off into a journey
my mind takes me there… boom!
i awake in front of a grown–ss white boy with no facial hair
i’ll visit your mom at the doc while she gettin’ that pre-natal care
slice her achilles’ tendon
open and sn-tch the newborn baby out of the ankle-chair
now, all that tough guy “rawr-rawr” sh-t need to get left alone
you was pr-nounced dead at the signin’ when this was set in stone
desert eagle tucked in my linin’, you know that weapon chrome
pistol whip his jaw, i broke his english
now his broken english even relyin’ on rosetta stone
what happened to lab battles? it’s funny how sh-t change
uw had two events, nine battles total, thirteen big names
i hire top tier n-ggas to f-ck each other over, then i flip change
so i’m not only a pimp, my n-gga
i’m a mastermind in the pimp game
how dare you try to compete
when i do this sh-t in my sleep?
i’m the farmer, you the sheep
you couldn’t sh-t out what i eat
you’ll be constipated for weeks
i done dominated the streets
shotty, i’ll face f-ck your mom while she ovulate in the sheets
see, ’cause i’m the n-gga that be tryna get ya
and cause problems with ya
chopper hit ya, doctor st-tch ya
headshot, your mama miss ya
no blunt, no rolled up papers, when i finally get ya
i’ma cremate you and smoke your ashes out a bible scripture
i’m disrespectful, i’ll scratch my b-lls then tap your face
i’ll smoke a blunt in a confession booth
while confessin’ to pastor mase
look at you for 9 minutes with the “this n-gga is average”-face
then breakdown how your girl love to suck d-ck
then tongue kiss you with the aftertaste
she try some new sh-t with me
the car is on the wrong side of the road
the steering wheel on the wrong side of the car
i’m in the p-ssenger seat, she suckin’ my d-ck while she drivin’
that must be some english sh-t!
red light means “blow, b-tch,” green light when she stoppin’
we get to our destination, it’s n-ggas waitin’ to put their c-ck in
if i’da knew she was into g-ngb-ng
f-ck comin’ to england, i woulda flew that b-tch to compton
ruger on my waistline, buddha got me sp-ce blind
how you gon’ take charge when my shooter’s on the base line?
see, it was all a joke ’til this intruder tried to take mine
i put the seven in your chest
and capture the shootin’ all on facetime
’cause i’m a bad mother-shutcho
rusty screwdriver through your ribs, i’ll let your guts show
throw him off the roof: call him nutso
i got goons you ain’t never see before: no mc gusto
40 n-ggas, 80 straps, big body, mercedes black
i’m here to bring the 80s back
when n-ggas in the streets had beef they had to pay for that
hand-held .22 that could probably fit in a baby lap
bodybag, homicide… on the dirt, on the gr-ss
i don’t give a f-ck, i’m just rappin’, yup, i’m tryna spaz
shotty, guess what? i just kicked f-ckin’ shotty -ss
shotty in a bodybag, your bodybag in a—

[random person in crowd: bodybag!]

no! in a bodycast!
now, tell the truth
why you ain’t come to america and battle me in a man league?
you look like the type of n-gga
to sniff the car seat right after your man leave
now, that’s some nasty–ss h0m- sh-t
now, i know you seen dizaster get dojo kicked
you better be lucky that this battle on some promo sh-t
’cause i’m famous for the same sport that got miguel cotto rich
and look, i’m done with this white boy; i like you, my man
i’m gon’— oh, alright, he don’t wanna swipe with my hand
but guess what? it’s cool, it’s cool!
’cause the last white boy who tried me
eurgh, tell him what i did… i dropped that n-gga body!

- dont flop lyrics

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