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urltv - flo leeds vs. geda dot lyrics

[round 1: geda dot]
i’m used to the fans takin’ pictures, and they know who i am low-key
so i still ain’t got quite used to havin’ this cam’ on me
he used to the gas, so i’mma lay a hand on e
think impala, camaro, chevelle…
‘cause you’ll meet your maker all the same if you should ever lay (chevrolet) a hand on me!
i said, he wanna spar? then (spartan) i’m leonidas
wit’ the tommy (tummy) tucked like i’m sick of diets
i got one tre, another clip’ll (clipper) spit beside it
but the lead ain’t #2, but the suppressor make it kawhi-et (quiet)
i’m talkin’ schwarzenegger in the ‘90s
you know, body in the building
‘cause sometimes, you just gotta make sure they don’t survive the shots
and i give a f-ck whether you connect online or not
‘cause it seem like every time i grab my sticks and get ready to dump eight again
i gotta bend down, load (download) it
the ps4 gotta update again
revolver tucked, make it spin, professional
we flare guns: distress signal
draymond green after a ref whistle, n-gga: the tec nickel (technical)
and even though my face in the camera
i draw it with my free hand, leave no trace of the hammers
i’m in your ‘hood, wit’ a tool: it don’t take a mechanic
i wish a mu’f-cka would…
and my deuce’ll (medusa) turn him to stone
hope y’all ain’t take him for granite (granted)
now his face in the canvas
i wasn’t even tryna go there
‘cause he never even saw the shots, it was no fair
they don’t know what made him insist on screamin’ t.i. name out the blue
i mean, he just got a hollow tip (gotta holla tip) outta nowhere
yeah, he want beef, then tell him make a mistake (him a steak)
or say some sh-t online he won’t say to my face
and then it’s gunplay from the gate
get his address, then we slidin’ into home: it’s gon’ be a close play at the plate!
so it shouldn’t be no surprise to see me outside, holdin’ this long metal .8
‘cause i’m from south carolina, n-gga: it’s the palm metal (palmetto) state!
round

[round 1: flo leeds]
f-ck rankings
i never worried ‘bout the names and battlers they tried chasin’ ‘round
old-school, like playing pong on atari, but if you break it down
it’s just controllin’ bars, goin’ back and forth with numbers in the game, but now
it’s poor resolution for a cl-ssic, and dot just tryna make it out!
i hate these clowns!
this ain’t the type of match you take responsibly
a breakout performance from a hole in the wall: that shawshank philosophy
now it’s death, breathin’ down his neck like a tracheotomy
and m-ffle the clappin’ like blackboard erasers, for anyone who say he chalkin’ me!
honestly, i turned a .7 to a rap while they profit margins was razor-thin
i’m sayin’ you got it backwards, geda dot
we done turned dots to g’s before a name get flipped
i’m talkin’ nothing to royalty, crazy quick
i went from poor to prince (port au-prince), on some haitian sh-t!
i said, shaky wit’ the aim, but ben simmons when a blade get gripped
that’s a clean slash (/), no shot, but bigger than your average pg
and that’s just based off how they framin’ it
i hate these kids!
always tryna make up lies just to sell a lecture
b-tch, i’m a butcher wit’ the machine like griselda records!
you can tell i’m better
same way real fentanyl hit tan diesel and leave it wit’ a different coat
and that’s ‘poison’ without the brown: bell biv devoe
now here we go
caught him from a few blocks away, callin’ his b-tches to get him home
precision from distance, though
trey songz on aftermath: that’s a trigger (trigga) and a scope (interscope)
then started l.o.m. battle league: a hollow hit his phone!

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