a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

team backpack - bar fight™ - ren thomas vs toxsikk | #wula17 lyrics

[toxsikk round 1]
imma show you how the west get down
imma show you how to best get down
holding [?] like we in secremental
and if you king then it is accidental
you’ human being, i’m experimental
this sh-t too easy, these light weight verses
where your team at? i have my team drive eight he-rs-s
god, they’ nervous
someone better stop this circus
you walking a thin line? better drop on purpose
– before i shove you off
i’m limitless and above the law
i brought my wolves out to play and we’ll hunt your dogs
ac3’s beats got me something i can bang to
now lemme show ’em all the robes, before i hang you
i’m getting paid to commit murder up to the fifth
we can’t play you, we ain’t heard of none of your sh-t
this round i’ll let him live
i’ll smoke his family tree and ash his heritage
i ain’t scared to trip
see, i’m laced like a pair of kicks
outcast, like all your tee’s i rarely fit
i’m still calling out every rapper you pick:
locksmith, oswin, porter and rivers can get a clip – k
wg, ain’t no subtle with me
every sentence is like the dentist; fill the puddle with teeth
i sleep on all these rappers, and i cuddle with trees
i’ve always been a trapper, just don’t mumble my speech
next verse let me get someone worth my time
i’m only here ’cause the views are well worth my rhymes
i abused and broke rules to exert my shine
i can’t lose, now play pool with my first five lines

n-gg-, i’m out!

[ren thomas round 1]
i’ve been k!lling these motherf-ckers since yea-high
raw lines through the pen feel like a [?]
you got a gun, but it never ring like a.i
cool kids back like ac slater at bayside
b-tches facetime, only below the waistline
two chicks say they ain’t bi, till i pull out the ky
beat them dyk-s so bad got arrested for a hate crime
now they both cling to my nuts; i call them stage five
heard about me through the great vine
till i stomped the vine out turned it into great wine
psycho k!ller, white gorilla, [?]
irish hieroglyphics, mind’s own business
yes, ren you come up shorter than michael bivins
tight rope living, yes!
i will [?] your neck and spine [?]
you never get recognized:
they know me from sway and team backpack
they even see me up on rick ross’ snapchat
i was in magic city throwing bands with all the [?]
what other rapper in this motherf-cker here can say that?
oh wait, not one
i got a shotgun that’ll leave your brain rotting shotgun
give your girl the long dog, call it the datsun
wrong beam got a rifle on it, i’ll dot some
all white, i’m ready to bar fight
half irish, half viking
bred to be in bar fights

it’s ren!

[toxsikk round 2]
i can bust you a rap, but anything else? not my job
anyone who said that they ill: not like tox
i don’t really care how you feel, i fight like rock
how much blood i gotta spill? go drop by drop
stone cold, i move b-tches and i throw blows
i drip juice and my soul glow
they taking photos; best get the picture ‘fore i go pro
boy, i ain’t the n-gg- that you folks know
call me mister sick
i teach you dumb n-gg-s how to spit
i get rude, hock a loogie on your kicks
thought you knew me ‘fore i switched
that wasn’t you, don’t know who is who
getting rude, turn this to that movie “split” i don’t quit
who the best man? point ‘em out, tell ’em: “lets dance”
i have ’em lifted from my jet land
they call me meth man
i throw the west up with my left hand
boy, i keep it dripping like your sweat glands
now got the juice
i clock in soon, i’m pac at noon
i c-ck and shoot at more heads than prost-tutes
boy, you not the truth
i can do this for days
put my palms up and lift the stage
i got p-ssed with blades
disrespectful, i p-ss on graves
then pat your back as if it’s okay
i was build on rage – can’t you tell yet?
you ain’t even hear me yell yet
i stay on (co)’caine like i sell s-x
i gotta get in it, i’m polished and tinted
don’t got any limits, i can get down and squabble with ridd-ck
i’m like a, el chapo my chapel will chop all who live in
you not really whipping, you dirty
you get mopped in your kitchen
you feel me?
step a level up everytime you see me
i rob her man, they call me peewee
i’m lost in trans, think i’m houdini
i got your answers, i’m the geenie
i got no antics, i’m just greedy, n-gg-

[ren thomas round 2]
yo, watch me box with the devil in hundred degree weather
rocking the full leather six months after december
a sauna with a fever without taking a breath
i’m so cold with all of that i still ain’t breaking a sweat
patron of death, the ace in the deck, came to collect
tasting the flesh, you chasing while i’m taking the check
i spark the flame that burn the city street, urchins is lurking with me
bourbon is in my kidney, throw dollars worshipping t-tties
chaos consume the avenue
watch as they throw a jab or two
so precise with this bow i’ll put an arrow through your snaggletooth
used to battle dudes more than the soul sn-tching
sipping an old fashioned, to peep you’d need closed captions
letters i string together cause night terrors forever
you’ll never get on this level, three lemon squeeze in the kettle
ric flair chops to the chest, i came to conquer the best
headshot, headshot, for anyone rocking a vest
rebel, k!ller, lyricist; i’m all the above
throat’s wrong, i’ll have them reattach your jaw to your mug
i’m the reincarnation of what all of you was
before you fell in love with money and got lost in the drugs
feel like randy “the ram” in a candy sedan
red beard and two pistols: yosemite sam
seasoned veteran, got the p-ssage up on my letter man
thomas pick one: jefferson or edison
off my medicine
the loudest will be the deadest one
wait until the letters come, f-ck it, i ain’t ever done
b-tch on my back shipped straight from the philippines
i will beat the sh-t out of your whole team like willis reed
ox put a grip right across the trachea
oil in my pen taste like saudi arabia
your boy get love in every and every state he in
mathematics [?] if you try to turn my dome to a stadium

it’s ren! team backpack!

[toxsikk round 3]
i told you that they can’t compete
pull them like a follicle, his collarbone might hit the street
tune it with the prodigal, my art of war is energy
i drink a fifth of scotch and think how pac would do his enemies
guns loaded, jet li how to one mode it
my gun don’t miss, it was six off of one motion
ain’t here to ease up
plukett told me he put some piece up
this was last minute, i really came to cali to re-up
note from the doctor: my verbal narcotics confuse fiends
you can’t sit here and think you’ heavy weight because your shoes lean
hey, those jewels clean
better watch yourself, ’cause my crew mean
check your pockets, you like the type of n-gg- that lose things
i bruise dreams and break ice, ’cause it will snow you in
slither trough the cracks, i’m just adapting to a kobra skin
snap back so hard that it will fold his brim
empty out my clip in twelve bars and then reload again
i’m colder than a winter night back home
i’ve been nice, that sh-t don’t fit you, but i like that song
you was prolly hoping three rounds could really right that wrong
but what they ain’t tell you is that toxsikk is used to fights that long
i write back strong, heard everything that you said, thomas
the snotty nosed monster up under your bed, thomas
i know you can’t, i know you can do it again, thomas
get off track, and that train gon’ carry your head on it
made my head hornet, like it is a ghost in a sh-ll
fit in pocket more than token himself
i approach him in stealth
then reappear and grap his throat for a yell
soaking my nails, then i rip it like i’m opening mail
oh, what you say: “you a jersey cat”? we ain’t heard of that
this’ the different side, boy: imma murder rap
before you step inside my ring, better learn some facts
i make you see his chest bleed, when his shirt is black
chasing the ether like it’s laced in his pizza
hitman for hire, and i don’t do no basic sh-t neither
i’m itching to fire on n-gg-s as they lacing their smeakers
make sure the silencer hit ’em as they fade in the speakers

n-gg-, it’s tox!

[ren thomas round 3]
i went to see the octomom and asked if she still milking
and walked in on soulja boy going down on paris hilton
helped little momma put on lip gloss that’s c-m flavored
and yoked up asher roth at the fraternity fundraiser
i’m a hammerhead shark in a sea of goldfish
sniffing pills with heath ledger and anna nicole smith
me and kanye ran on trish and tell her switch limousines
don’t tell n-body that sh-t; b-tch was only seventeen
i poisoned mariah carey, just to p-ss off nick cannon
i ate out brooke hogan and for a month i spit s-m-n
me and jean-claude van damme was doing c-ke down in miami
seen danny bonaduce on a strip hunting for trannies
got all three jonas brothers high off of one joint
and forced them to f-ck a hooker with aids at gunpoint
rihanna hit me on twitter, told me meet her for dinner
she kept talking ’bout chris so i c-cked back and hit her
i’m here to give the industry a hysterectomy
lady gaga winking at me p-ssing in the urinal next to me
these words will be the death of me like the last b-tch that ran from me
me and chuck e. cheese and chuck e. cheese with casey anthony
ben rothelisberger lied to me, said he didn’t rape him
then said: “find some b-tches, they ain’t f-cking we gon’ make ‘em”
i’ve seen khloe kardashian benching more than i weigh
high-fived adam lambert and got affected with aids
i pushed tila tequila like i play for san diego
and f-cked heidi montag till she start melting to play-doh
if fantasia i could become a better person
celebrity rehab with a big bottle of bourbon
wh-r-s at the jersey sh-r-, snooki said i could skeet her
left with an orange d-ck and a drip from the gonorrhea
smoking l’s with michael phelps, sitting slanted in the buick
micheal jackson’s dead, but that don’t mean he didn’t do it
now to this motherf-cker, this is where it’s heading:
how you dissing me when you are wearing adidas leggings?
p-ssy boy, i don’t f-ck with tox
yo, hold on, hold on…

i said p-ssy boy, who the f-ck is toxsikk?
a hermaphrodite version of locksmith; pop sh-t
and i don’t give a f-ck after this sh-t retire
you came here to k!ll, who’ the one on the flyer?

- team backpack lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS