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king of the dot - head i.c.e vs. geechi gotti lyrics

[round 1: geechi gotti]
so we got geechi gotti versus…
n-gg-, you’se a b-tch!
you’se a old-head wit’ a death wish
you talkin’ ’bout how he ain’t gotta give ’em a dead kick
he can still tell by how the leg twitch
see, that ain’t how i’m doin’ it, man
’cause if i see a n-gg- leg still twitchin’, i’mma shoot him again!
big tool in my hand: i’m tim taylor
bro got the .40 like kemp, i got the .40, too (42): i’m vin baker
rim-shaker, i aim above the rim when i bust, tho’
headshot, see somethin’ fly off his roof like nutso
the pump go, wherever i aim it at – this a nice spot
bah! watch i.c.e drop
his body get a nice plot
that was a casket, but once you in it, it’s an i.c.e-box (icebox)
the right shot gon’ have the glock cookin’
keep talkin’, i’ll put a gun in ya mouth – stop wolfin’ (woofin’)!
f-ck a wolf! i’m a crip – i’ll k!ll a pet!
extensions, upgraded the mop: that’s a swiffer jet!
i been a threat!
one of the best in the west spittin’
air holes in his face
once the cases come out, he gon’ look at the tec (tech) different!
yeah, pimpin’, i gots to shoot
bow! head down like a prost-tute
what i’m gon’ do gon’ have these n-gg-s mad as f-ck
shotgun (-chk-chk-) air in his mouth: it’s an asthma pump
dramatic stuff: sirens, kids screamin’!
headshot!
old n-gg-, fix ya toupee: i got your wig leanin’
i been meanin’ to tell you ‘bout my new b-tch
this nina is cold, it’s a cold b-tch like big shirley
i coulda shot him, but wolf p-ssy: ms. pearly!
the last n-gg- i shot, i did him dirty
so swing on me, and i’mma throw back bullets, like a wizards jersey!
i’m talkin’ broad day, so your homies will witness
shoot him, then tuck in the pops: don’t be a menace!
what is you weighin’ (wayan), brother!? you look light
you starin’ at dope when it come back cooked right
you ain’t gotta let it stretch
the difference? i’m crackin’, you c-ke, wolf: megadef
you scared of death!
i’ll let the pipe spray
i name my guns after the n-gg-s i shot
bow! guess this a i.c.e tre (ice tray)!
f-ck i.c.e!
you get beat up and stomped
turn head i.c.e into crushed i.c.e (ice)!
i keep a nice grip
put this old n-gg- in a bag – now he i.c.e (ice) chips!
n-gg-, f-ck i.c.e!
you in oakland, this is not yo’ town
get ya -ss beat up and slammed
i.c.e (ice) on his head, like he tryna make a knot go down!
you ain’t show up yesterday
you was hopin’ this did not go down
‘cause last time i was on king of the dot, they know i said some sh-t that was dead clever
see, this time, i’mma make yo’ mama suck my d-ck wit’ yo’ battle on the screen…just to see which head better!
i’m disrespectful, but i could be mo’ wicked
wipe my -ss with some tissue, then give it to your daughter so she can wipe her nose wit’ it!
you lame, i.c.e!
get my name right!
after i k!ll you, i’mma hit up “url for life” on your gravesite!
and when it’s real, you can tell
you can see it in they eyes
yo’ turn…see if you can make n-gg-s believe them lies
n-gg-, time!

[round 1: head i.c.e]
i say, yo, that girl on every corner, but that boy in the staircase past the lobby
every murder got a stench…i’m tryna leave that tear gas past behind me
‘cause the last rat i k!lled had bullet holes bigger than troy ave’s maserati!
n-gg-, you’se a shooter that got shot and never shot again!
keep shootin’ out the mouth and you gon’ get shot again!
n-gg-s from your block goin’ nuts like, “not again!”
“who did this!?”
a east coast n-gg- that hang wit’ the n-gg- that bodied jin
“is you serious!? (serius)”
yeah, that’s his name
but i’m talkin’ ‘bout the n-gg- who came on the stage and saved him from that dizaster plague
oh, you talkin’ ‘bout i.c.e? that boy get busy
fall back, i’m tryna see how far gotti dogs go after he threw his frisbee
‘cause, n-gg-, you’se a b-tch
but standin’ wit’ a bunch of crips holdin’ a picture of nip’ in the newspaper
and they sell his t-shirts three steps from where they took the photo at, and you gangsta?
i guess all those bundles and weaves is used papers
‘cause he didn’t even have his t-shirt on, and the “condolences” video you shot for the views later!
f-ck all that clout-chasin’ sh-t
hitman holla told me he got a million followers on ig
reluctantly forgettin’ that the one who opened the door for the followers was i, g
now i feel i gotta yg wit’ the hard-bottoms: suit him up
‘cause the last time i checc’d, i combined my nus-
i combined my hustle (hussle) like nip’ and suited-
(-head i.c.e gets a little fl-stered over that slight slip-up-)
these n-gg-s fake wit’ it!
i’m out here givin’ out pounds and turkeys after, like thanksgiving
half man, half amazing: blake griffin
and still make it out the country wit’ no complications of a din number i got from a state prison, n-gg-
whoa! my lifestyle before black rob was still a bad boy wit’ a criminal record
my g caught bodies, too, but he got bodied, too, ‘cause he was fixin’ to tell it
i’m in debt wit’ his family
‘cause they thought he died over his ride, i just left him in his camry
it hurts when you gotta k!ll a n-gg- you love
i did things i gotta answer for
n-gg-, question me later
a pot of boiling water wit’ cell phones in it? that recipe saved us
pay phones helped us f-ck up the plain clothes as the ecstasy came in
i’m a ghost – puttin’ a n-gg- in a warehouse full of fire is not to execute kanan!
but i got a tasha ready, that’ll f-ck the driver and screw the lawyer if the targes-
(-head i.c.e gets fl-stered again-)
i got a tasha ready, that’ll f-ck the driver and screw the lawyer if the charges deadly
20 grand in the pocket, got yo’ b-tch wavin’
now you hidin’ behind a bush, behind yo’ b-tch shavin’
i declined her from suckin’ this d-ck for life
she can’t even lick-taste it: i.c.e
that’s why i’m surprised she in here, tryna soup a man (superman) around this crip tonight (kryptonite)!
glock 43x or p365, pointin’ at gotti like prosecutors when he testified!
felon said, “it wasn’t me who k!lled ya partna” – think about it…use your gut
but like gta, i just took the money from this body to chew some lunch
street beef keep feedin’ my appet-te for destruction, so my inner g (energy), i don’t lose too much!
a company wasn’t consistent wit’ its values, so i.c.e moved on
turned the temperature down, but kept it chilly…life goes on
so if i.c.e don’t show up to some of these events, it’s common sense: i don’t wanna be around y’all
if any battle rapper say he rolled wit’ me, that linkin’ (lincoln) was a town car!
the baby llama, pulled off the waistline of my third baby mama
you’ll get burnt tryna play defense (the fence) like sarah connor
n-gg-, all y’all useless
i’m mc ren: if it’s wasn’t for me, it wouldn’t have been easy (eazy) to make all y’all ruthless
i pops, and the baby first murder wasn’t a walmart shootin’, n-gg-
don’t gamble wit’ ya life, fake f-ck!
write a check – bankrupt
on yo’ set, it’ll be candle wax drippin’ over your memorial t-shirt, you play tough, n-gg-
my hand itchin’ while baggin’ up eight-b-lls off a eyeball without a gram missin’
my pops said he ain’t seen grams cook this good since the family business, man
n-gg-, i’ll shoot you from a range, park, rolex and take bezel out
meet wicked loc on another block
once he cop, a k!llshot will put him right back under the sheets he poked out his head up out!
n-gg-, y.og nic the crip god
when you pull up on nutty, you d-ck-rod
takin’ orders, rollin’ kush, you ain’t no nimrod!
like a inmate waitin’ for mail, i’ll sell (cell) in your face
then get you touched by a n-gg- sleepin’ on triple bunk in pelican bay!
guard your grill before you knuckle up
you try to knuckle up, on god, you gettin’ cut or stuck
dragged through the ‘hood
these back of the woods ain’t for rollin’ up!
smoke somewhere else
or the news gon’ inform your partners you got smoked somewhere else
retaliate, and the next commercial won’t exaggerate how smoking is bad for your health, n-gg-
i can look in they eyes and tell these n-gg-s ain’t k!lled before
couple carjackings and drive-bys, but more casualties than men of honor in their drills of war
salute me or shoot me, before i k!ll some more!
puttin’ money on my head is dead!
your type hitta’s a rat, so spare me the bull, n-gg-
the last time i saw a stick-up kid was on his deathbed
he said, “all the money is in locker 43…and i’m a jets fan”
tortures go from screams, yellin’, to silence, then the next man
you gon’ scream, tell us, or you dyin’…like the deadman!
when it’s real, you ain’t gotta fake it or disguise
g’head and rap – i still don’t see it in ya eyes, n-gg-
i.c.e!

[round 2: geechi gotti]
n-gg-…n-gg-…n-n-n-n-gg–n-gg–n-gg-
n-gg- put us all to sleep wit’ that one

[head i.c.e]
wake yo’ -ss up then, man
wake up

[geechi gotti]
aye, but, look, stop usin’ nipsey name when you battlin’ crips, homie

[head i.c.e]
let’s do it

[geechi gotti]
that sh-t could end tragic (mm-hmm)
you won’t make it home
your family just gon’ be like, “oh…money in a casket…”
n-gg-, you’se a f-ggot
you say a whole lotta g-y sh-t
like, you told kg you would make him strip and f-ck, or he gon’ have to get…shot-
i mean…(-chuckles-) on me, that’s sick
before i make two n-gg-s strip and f-ck, i’ll shoot myself so i ain’t gotta see that sh-t
believe that sh-t!
he don’t be sayin’ g-y sh-t for bars or shock reaction
you say g-y sh-t because you g-y
n-gg-, stop the actin’
tell these people – we listenin’
let ‘em know, when you go home, it’s a n-gg- in your bed, right?
in harlem, he known for suckin’ cold d-ck: that’s why his name head i.c.e (ice)!
(what!? what!?)
be a man, i.c.e!
tell ‘em how your lady caught you wit’ a n-gg-, found out you was f-ckin’ him
you was like, “naw, baby, don’t go!”…but cuh was talkin’ to the n-gg-
aye, the n-gg- was like, “man, don’t be touchin’ him”
he got mad like, “what’s up, wolf?” – tried punkin’ him
aye, then he end up gettin’ socked by the f-ggot
that’s when i knew he was sweet – all i saw was the fruit punchin’ (punch in) him!
i don’t just rap ‘bout guns! i be clutchin’ ‘em
get ya homie slaughtered
headshot! his blood land on a. ward…turn i.c.e (ice) into holy water!
boy, you betta chill, ‘cause you ain’t no gangsta, but i am, fool
yo’ credit in the hood ain’t good
that’s why you up here tryna get these white boys to finance you
.40, clip hangin’ like b-tches eyelash do
extension: the stick talk like, “i am groot!”
b-tch, i am the truth! that’s why i’m k!llin’ him
the strap bust and (bustin’) kicks like zion williamson!
the big homies wore khakis and pendletons
told me, “look a n-gg- in his eyes while i’m peelin’ him”
nowadays, they’d just rather go back and forth over the ‘net like wimbledon
this not a game, i’ll let it bang
knock everything outta head, except his brain!
i’ll let it bang
catch him in traffic, watch a clip fly
ain’t no trouble shootin’ (troubleshooting) wit’ the mac
bullets go through the gl-ss, hit him, got him steerin’ wit’ his back
let’s see how his disk drive!
f-ck a disguise! i want all the smoke
the nina light – you gon’ see somethin’ plastic bust like the condom broke
i am not your folks
i’ll leave you brain-dead from a shootin’
now you control everything…but ya movement!
f-ck is you doin’? talkin’ to the cops?
you don’t know we k!ll snitches!?
you and yo’ n-gg-s was b-tches growin’ up…and y’all still b-tches!
you a f-ckin’ mark: nut stain!
i’ll put a bullet in you that’s harder to get out than the drug game!
n-gg-, what’s pain?
you came to get smoked like bacon, i’m talkin’ redwood
he in the hospital holdin’ on, but i don’t think your man could
i thought his mama was suckin’ the surgeon’s d-ck
she was walkin’ through the lobby askin’ the doctors, was her head good?
you in the ‘hood!
try to run, and my guys’ll catch ya
this my state! i’ll put a green light on i.c.e (ice) like a diamond tester
all kinds of pressure!
see, these k!llers on the west the hardest
y’all done put head in between bars like gina after s-x wit’ martin!
yeah, n-gg-! you stuck like that!
i coulda brung out the choppa next (chopper necks) like guillotine, but head ain’t cut like that!
these n-gg-s know me from thuggin’ and sh-t
i’ll take you to the highest mountain and smother this pr-ck
toss him over the cliff
now head over heels like he in love wit’ a b-tch!
and when it’s real, y’all can tell
y’all can see it in they eyes
go ‘head, rap all day – see if they can believe them lies!
n-gg-, time!

[round 2: head i.c.e]
ain’t no need to fight back, ain’t no need to fight back
he said a bunch of g-y sh-t, and i thought he was gon’ be c-ckin’ the grip
this comin’ from the same n-gg- who said he’ll stand over a n-gg-, bend over, and take him a sh-t
also the same n-gg- who said when he take a p-ss, he let another n-gg- hold his d-ck!
man, when you battled dre vishiss, you brought his moms up
i lost mine to cancer, too, so that breaks my heart
don’t let these tears fool you
i bust (bus) so many n-gg-s, they had to put they rose in (rosa) parks, n-gg-
we shoot up candle-lightings
whoever spillin’ beans gon’ make it hot like, “what hand you write with?”
bah! everything high in the sky, but we ain’t gon’ gamble dice yet
gotti hooked to a cord: mic check
coffee in the mourning (morning), it’s not for gossip after a night’s rest
but let’s peep it fair
his .9 went from throwin’ bullets to catchin’ bullets on both side of his head: he steve mcnair
n-gg-, you’se a b-tch! camel-toe!
in yo’ mouth, the hammer go
you’ll speak for clips like goodz tellin’ shotgun suge, “watch your hands, lil’ bro”
i’ll leave ya block disgusting without a round-table
then discuss things at the round-table
it’s bread over here
mike tyson pigeon coop on the roof
we comin’ for heavy weight, ‘cause this belt ain’t enough to protect all those birds up in there, n-gg-
fly away…or die today!
they’ll have coffee in the patrol car like police not tryin’ to fall asleep to solve your case
young’un thought he was gon’ talk that mojo to me
and if king of the dot rootin’ y’all, then like this voodoo doll, the host goin’ wit’ him – bow!
i’m thuggin’ different!
that powder on the counter is not for child’s play
but after it’s stepped on, i’m makin’ a f-ckin’ k!llin’
you gon’ take the stairs or the window if i’m gonna git you sucka
and i don’t care what number’s on the f-ckin’ building
yo, tell dread-head to mind his business
this m-ffler don’t come wit’ a honda civic
i’ll make him feel uncomfortable around the mac like…r. kelly in mcdonald’s wit’ him
liberia, senegal, sierra leone – i salute those flags discreetly
‘cause that’s a code word for “mind ya business while we yappin’ geechi”
(-head i.c.e. gets a little fl-stered-)
time
nah, nah, nah, i actually had way more
but let’s get into that third

[round 3: geechi gotti]
y’all can hear me?
yeah, you know my voice still goin’ out, but look…

aye, that n-gg- be rappin’ like
“if i pop somethin’…i ain’t his dad
but he might get a whoopin’…i’mma still have to pop somethin’…”
that sh-t don’t be makin’ no sense, it just be soundin’ cool
aye, that sh-t be soundin’ cool, tho’, ‘cause you like a n-gg- grandpa and sh-t, i.c.e, so like, you know…
but n-gg-, you old as f-ck
i bet after this, you gon’ have to bathe in epsom salt after the battle
aye, cuh been doin’ this since they came to the events on horses
the loser had to give up they saddle
n-gg-, you old as f-ck!
grew up watchin’ m-a-s-h and knight rider

[head i.c.e]
i did, i did

[geechi gotti]
first battle he ever wrote, he had to use a typewriter!
but listen, oldhead, we ain’t come here to see you preach tonight
if this ‘posed to be “young vs. old”, and our generation’s so f-cked up, it’s ‘cause y’all generation ain’t teach us right
i know n-gg-s who was gettin’ they rights read when they could barely read or write
take my dog, for example
he got booked for a murder
he was tellin’ me how he hated jail
he even told the courts he didn’t do no smokin’…judge still gave him the l
true stories! i ain’t into the fiction!
young, black, 6 feet – i know plenty n-gg-s that could fit the description
don’t mention this crippin’
this ain’t for punks, bro
the last n-gg- i shot, it was five times
the last breath he took was inhalin’ the gunsmoke
yeah, i’m a young loc, but i’m smart enough to know that gang-bangin’ is dumb, though
like, why is we k!llin’ n-gg-s? we should be k!llin’ the cops
what the f-ck is we thinkin’?
put the sheets over them: pigs in a blanket!
this sh-t real, i ain’t fakin’, i really feel like that
f-ck ‘em all, dawg
ak, get to choppin’ the 12: make ‘em a sawed-off
i’ll get a n-gg- heart off
look at me, you can tell my mind gone
i done k!lled n-gg-s they couldn’t bring back wit’ a time stone
n-gg-, this the endgame!
i’ll put a bullet in your membrane!
a face shot will turn a wolf to a pelican – look how his chin hang!
i’m from the n gang, a lot of n-gg-s died reppin’
tryna avoid the block, like they side-steppin’
n-gg-, step aside
you couldn’t walk in these shoes, you bow-legged
go against any of these young k!llas? you fo’ sho’ dead
this ain’t the same i.c.e that battled goodz
he shouldn’t be gettin’ no bread
so unless yo’ grandma came to suck all our d-cks, we not gettin’ that old-head!
you washed up!
nowadays, you get slapped around and mistreated
pistol-whip ‘til i.c.e (ice) on the serial (cereal): how my b-tch eat it
what!? every bar
this a crip speakin’, and this lifestyle usually end wit’ a tragedy
it’s f-cked up, i done been around death so many times, i considered it family
do you get that, i.c.e?
my partna got double-life
he said every day it’s like he feel like he tryna make it in h-ll
‘cause even if he died and came back, he’s still goin’ straight to a cell
i’ll hit ya face wit’ a sh-ll, the heaters’ll bang
that’s a hit from the old .40: sprinkle me, mayne!
you think it’s a game
n-gg-s in yo’ city do a lot of snitchin’, and still walkin’ around
you harlem n-gg-s is boof
where i’m from, only time will tell…we f-ck around and k!ll that, too
i don’t give a f-ck what he used to be! you not right now!
that sh-t you used to get away wit’ old-head? sh-t’ll get you shot right now
real sh-t, ‘cause i’m really livin’ what my raps say
leave him dead right here wit’ a cracked face
the fans like, “organik, save him!”
he like, “dawg, i’m just the host. anything else is not my job.”
r.i.p. to mac dre!
and when it’s real, y’all can tell
y’all can see it in they eyes
yo’ turn – see if you can make n-gg-s believe them lies
n-gg-, time!

[round 3: head i.c.e]
good sh-t, yo, but you young enough to be a child of mine
i don’t want your dna around my shine
you’ll ruin my taste buds
‘cause you can never grace god even if that chalice fine
bow your head
you just got double-crossed, now you dead
ambulance was worried about your future like, “how’s your kids?”
i’ll put so much money on ya head, you’ll buy your own sh-t like, “nah, this not his.”
man, rest in peace to not, c-loc, and marc
for a knot, i’ll see locs at mark
trigger-happy…hold on…
6-6-6-5 sh-t
your naming on the wall? don’t claim it – that’s my sh-t
or it’s piru flags tied around bullet wounds: my blood’ll press you (pressure) for the nonsense

- king of the dot lyrics

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