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urltv - rum nitty vs. real sikh lyrics

[round 1: rum nitty]
k!ll switch!
we got rum m+th+f+ckin’ nitty versus…sukhwinder singh
aka real sikh
f+ck a status quo
fans tellin’ me i can’t do nothin’ with real sikh, i gotta up the antidote
all headshots hit his turban, bust his cantaloupe
get real (w)rap every round, from a calico(e)
my talent shows, we got a different sk!ll set
i give a f+ck about how many biggity biggity siggity similes you got, you still wack
from one of my punchlines, a n+gga get k!lled smack
but that’s the difference between the metaphor (and real rap)
i’m still strapped, i’ll let a shot fire
you’re indeed linkedin with a monster like a job finder
ya dawg dyin’
they gon’ say i got real sikh (sick) and lost my mind, like alzheimers
think you gon’ knock me off my throne? then y’all bias
this n+gga singh can’t stop the reign; lamar silas
you not slidin’
on the set you a clown
you probably been liftin’ weights since you was kid back in your country just flexin’ around
i can imagine real sikh husky, as a youth in asia (euthanasia), now watch a vet’ put him down
pull up now, up the burner, knock off that f+ckin’ turban
cause you done had that (w)rap up a whole year like uncle murda
pull up suburban
effortlessly, checkin’ my reach
it come from under the seat like a pullout couch, you better retreat
let it release
if i was real sikh (sick), i would take off, like medical leave
leave you dead in the street
please don’t try me or we can box
one swing will drop ya, they won’t even stop it
three piece proper, these will knock him
get his f+ckin’ wig cracked, punchin’ real (w)rap like geechi gotti
he stole dizaster’s style, he’s a copy
he should die cause that’s what all that bitin’ get you sikh (sick), you ever seen a zombie?
[?] i can switch up the flow when i want, cause i got tons
i can really tap into different pockets, like shotgun
i heat up every time i’m in question
try some, get you in the view (interview) and give you wings like hot ones
you ain’t pop none
you just be rappity rappin’
i’m talkin’ packin’ a mac in the back of the acura rappin’
you’ll get clapped with a magnum, in (end) real life, it can actually happen
sternum shot, now singh (sing) hole in his chest, like the national anthem
why we havin’ this battle?
dawg will get john doe’d
this between me and you, ain’t n0body else involved in this convo
you should get popped with a hollow
cause i heard my name was in real sikh (sick) mouth…now we can talk mono e mono
glock blow
k!ll yaself
[round 1: real sikh]
i saiiiid
you about to get the effect of all the ptsd that been in sikh thoughts
i’m talkin’ big brawls
seein’ an eye (i) get stomped out like pixar
split jaws, hollow tip scars
to think of the sh+t hard
i seen events that can make a hitman emotional, like this card
plottin’ with the homie how to get this k!ll pulled off
gotta do political news so it don’t look wrong
heard the immigrants was eatin’ the pets, i said, “good call”
i’ll give the alien a bulldog
i haven’t talked to god in a while, i don’t why we stop
led me to k!llin’ nitty, i’ll get 25 years tops
gotta see the fam’ in visitation before i find peace god
it’ll register behind the glass like a chinese spot
come on puncher, play the knock out game
with my first right, one swing
and you’re out, no third strike
shoot with a purpose it ain’t nothin’ to learn twice
i only this b+tch when i’m clocked in, it’s my work wife
silencer, shhhh, it’s heard like church mice
heater against your brain ’til ya scalp looks like burnt rice
said, “he’s small”, so what? i’ll bury him to dirt height
six feet, i’ll show the alien what the earth like
real disrespect to the turban? you stop breathin’
when the doctor gettin’ your head wrapped, we got even
crack your racist joke i crack a smile while i’m squeezin’
call me “ahki from the store”, and i’ma hold the chop cheesin’
punchers i ain’t impressed by
except we confusing shadow boxin’ with air strikes
then don’t disrespect mine
think i just speed up my flow? you missin’ what i let fly
and you confusin’ all this fast ass rappin’ with a tec+9 (tech+n9ne)
so make fun of my style and how it seems so fast
i’ma biggity biggity beat yo’ ass
what you 4th quarter nit’? til your coordinates are found
like, “where the cash at?” and no talkin’ is allowed
don’t wanna get a round from the auto, simmer down
be subordinate, i’ll let the saw board a nit’ around
i ain’t even gotta snuff rum
open hand slump son
he’ll get smack’ed with two fingers, “what’s up son?”
dumbstruck
when i let a shotgun buck
my people got gas stations, where you think i got this pump from?
one gun, fire on both sides; 1+1
they all want a battle rap spirit ’til the become one
you’re done done
ran out of bullets then i cut son
chainsaw blade with ya name on it, rum rum
i’m talkin’ mike meyers sh+t
the iron grip
the fire stick
die wit’ it
mind gets split
eyes and then your sides get ripped
the final hit
shoot out the plate inside ya hip
perfect way to go for an alien; flyin’ disc
find a ditch
i’m k!llin’ anyone that you bookin’ now
you ain’t gon’ get it ’til nitty’s stuck with a bullet round
no stretcher, you gotta pick him up and push him out
then you’ll understand what i’m sayin’
i mean, you pickin’ up what i’m puttin’ down
i heard that jews control the weather with the paper they make
i had to bank on a long nose, makin’ it rain
now i’m bookin’ a 12, a k!ll from me to you
now you better be duckin’ a sh+ll like philippino food
.9 millimeter too for them sikh bars you wrote
soon as you start your slogan, you gon’ get all the smoke
and take so many+
you won’t finish off the quote

- urltv lyrics

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