krack liberty battle league – reed dollaz vs. rosenberg raw lyrics
[round 1: reed dollaz]
y’all ready?
are you white or albino?
should i hit him wit’ that tre+pound bulldog or that .44 rhino?
oh, i know…
i could…come through on the pegs, give three shots to the head…
that’s a f+ckin’ trick shot off a gt dyno!
now act tough, p+ssy
i’ll make my n+gga come and sock your jaw
you try to run? we lock the door
get stomped out and mop the floor!
all y’all life, you suburban n+ggas wanted to be like philly
wanna rap like beanz…wanna act like gillie!
grow a beard like free, surf a wave like quilly
until you suckin’ on this four+pound barrel like, really
i mean…”frozenberg?”
[rosenberg raw]
facts
[reed dollaz]
ha+ha! p+ssy, i’ll melt you!
and truth be told, d+ckhead, we ain’t never felt you
them shots fly, ain’t none of them n+ggas wit’ you gon’ help you
you like 38, and this .38 will do you special
have you wrapped up, stiff as a board, dead in a box, n+gga
this ain’t ’93, i ain’t tryna box, n+gga
i’m just tryna open his head, send in the docs, n+gga
toss his body over the bridge, cement and block n+ggas!
ain’t your name kyle?
[rosenberg raw]
facts
[reed dollaz]
started rappin’, actin’ gangsta, now you talk wit’ a growl
said you’re movin’ wit’ the pistol on site, let it blaow
and your man got the burner, but when it shoot, it go…pow
if bill collector your shooter, my n+gga, you’ll never see me run
he just got locked up in two different cities wit’ a bb gun
but see, these ‘ks? like a band: you gon’ see three drums
to reload ’em, c+ck ’em, and shoot ’em, you gon’ need three thumbs!
the kobe bryant of this rap sh+t, i’ll drop 60 on my last night
i’ll shoot that sks until that barrel smokin’ like a bagpipe
pull them coupes up on yo’ block, benzs and jag’ lights
and make you armor+all the tires like, “son…i want ’em mad bright!”
that boy reed back in his bag, that’s what they hatin’ for
but i stay strapped wit’ a gat you need a key to put the safety on
if i lift that gat off my waist and get to quakin’ on him
slugs’ll lift his soul to the god like heaven’s waitin’ on him!
p+ssy+ass n+ggas tryna stomp wit’ the big dogs
but if we catch yo’ b+tch ass in the field, you gettin’ picked off
runnin’ wit’ a style i made, i’m gettin’ p+ssed off
headshot before the game even start like, “f+ck the tip+off!”
you thought you was gon’ come play that tough role, on this philly stage?
in southwest philadelphia, where i was really raised!?
all the rumbles i got in!? all the guns that i done really blazed!?
p+ssy, you f+ckin’ wit’ a old+school hitter, n+gga, like willie mays!
general!
let’s get it, n+gga
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