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urltv - shotgun suge vs. big t lyrics

[round 1: big t]
big terrance!
last time they gave you t-top
well this time you get the top t
that was an off t-top
t could’ve offed t-top freestylin’ off the top t
we’ve seen him tank top, but it’s about to get as nasty as you takin’ off your top tee
you think this the gate to getting your v-necks?
you better get you a lacoste tee
they call t, “hitman ain’t battle him…what will it cost, t?”
“beasley, before i rap, make me a correct offer, sir (officer).”
that’s the rick ross fee
they talk about putting t in the gr-ss
you better be workin’ on a golf swing
before they see t in a mask in jersey
clip sticks out like i’m practicin’ for a lacrosse team
we all scheme…then i ride through new york
bang bang bang bang!
’bout to blow new jersey up!
nah, i’m direct…i’d rather go to suge’s project steps
start a fire on they block
’til the kickback get out of hand like project x
the shit that i don’t get? how you the nigga from jersey reppin’?
but you the same nigga that disrespected a dead legend
midwesters used to rock with you; led zeppelin
now you get a taste of your own medicine; excedrin
left surf and ars’ to represent and you never went
it was hella crips in the whips, mexicans
tec’s (texts) up in the blue bubble like imessages
to make sure my man is (manners) good, we got nice etiquette
they would’ve respected it
but they almost went to jail for some shit these niggas sayin’
that’s the shit from real niggas and b-tches, it’s these situations
every time we see him its purple rags, “these niggas graping'”
but you should have a confederate flag
since you like to leave niggas hangin’
i’m sayin’…just to show you that a nigga nice
i ain’t seen suge leave niggas hangin’ like this since vanilla ice
that was light but i’ma add some creativeness in
suge thanks for the win…d-mn you leavin’ a nigga hangin’ again!
what’s happenin’ with kannon and ms. gracie?
why’d it hurt your self-esteem?
they gave hitman holla $15,000, they gave you 15….hundred
and we wondered if somethin’ intervened
kannon paid him to be his b-tch like love don’t cost a thing
the theme, he be tough extra against saga and collector
but why you never pocket check math or touch sevah?
you still a baby loc…cause in the streets you ain’t did nothing ever
like what type of shotgun suge’ll (sugar) raise? blood pressure
none ever, you wasn’t a nigga with the mac
you wasn’t a nigga when there was drama they sent to get the strap
they don’t call you “shotgun” cause the mossberg was sittin’ in your lap
they call you “shotgun” cause you was too big to fit up in the back
that’s a fact!
another fact: niggas ran in my crib, took a gun, c-cked it back
took everything you got from rap
but i’m still here today and i thank god for that
so suge…you think i care about gettin’ my pockets tapped?
go ahead tap my pockets…all it’s a go
yo it’s a show, cause when they rob you for real you all on the flo’
so a nigga tap my pockets and i walk through the do’
tap my pockets then, he won’t tap a nigga’s pockets no mo’
fa sho’
soon as he reach his hand out to check
“get yo’ hand out my pocket” brraow! malcolm x!
it’s about respect!

[round 1: shotgun suge]
smack said, “i’m gonna line you up three”, i said, “make it crazy.”
he said, “you got the b-tch from chicago.”
i knew you not talkin’ ’bout gracie baby
“i know you want her but i got the guy t
but he ain’t got nothing to do with it.”
but i’ma put you in it like you and i, t (unity)
i’ma deep-dish, fry t…you better go on a diet or die t
i be on the block, playin’ cops and robbers with the jake
he be snitchin’, type to land your man in a case
headshot, he gonna die with his eyes open, he looking sandra bland in the face
but t, i’ma pull the tool on you
let this ruger spit now it drool on you
let this k-shine it’ll split his dna like 2 on 2
hollows be eatin’ his body like a mosquito
you had my name all in ya mouth in the d though
this shot was given, a free-throw
in this case, i’m michael jackson…nobody ever talk about tito
i’ll ‘regulate’ him like warren g
all you do is pop shit…ain’t no war in t
he the type to take shit back like a warranty
but not when you warrin’, t
i’ll take your bread like you owe suge
niggas die when they owe suge, got your mother like “oh suge”
have him hangin’ off a balcony the old suge
buy your bag, get a bag that’s porch play
where i’m from everybody on the porch play
money, guns, and drugs the newark way
man we bang for hours like a short stay
he talk that chiraq, 30 poppin’ with the shit like he belong there
you from the south side old block inglewood?
man why you don’t blog there? cause you fraud there
gorilla warfare…had him tweakin’ on twitter
try beefin’ on twitter, i must be the man
even surf was meekin’ on twitter
but fuck that i’m on you, you a heavyweight
good aim, make sure the dezi straight
put the icin’ on him like a wedding cake
you react? i’ll kick one of your fans like kevin gates
hey hitman, i do nothin’ for free, fuck wrong with you?
i don’t what big t got paid for this battle
but everythin’ he got is comin’ with me!
i don’t need y’all hypin’ my shit
cause i’ma shoot the next nigga that say surf write my shit
get him the fuck outta here!

[round 2: big t]
yo, suge, how’s your day, my friend?
i ain’t goin’ to lie to you like them
notice that i said “my friend”
you just got hot this year since 2010
all the way back then
i ain’t seen a rapper fall off that long…since eminem in “the way i am”
speakin’ of them, them detroit niggas wasn’t lookin’ happy
he was like, “uncle smack…how much i gotta pay them so they wouldn’t get at me?
they’ll whoop me badly.”
i’m like, “don’t suge got kids? where’s suga family?”
so you getting pussy, tryna pay trick off…
ain’t suge a (sugar) daddy?
it’s saddening!
niggas was at his door for at least two weeks
plot start moving – “naw, who was that? we seen you peep!
where’s shotgun?”
i don’t know, but after we seen you beef
he went missin’ on purpose, like j. reid in in too deep!
i’m like, “sheesh!”
his baby girl is fine and so sweet
seven-day bus p-ss: ridin’ the whole week
she hide in those sheets like, “i’m tryna go to sleep”
but i’m too busy hittin’ (hid in) the spot like hide-and-go-seek
she a freak!
fuck all that – she start throwin’ him under the bus
like, “what they call him shotgun for? the nigga ain’t even pump!”
i’m like, “man, fuck all that, where’s his son?”
bills due before the month, he slingin’ rock at his daddy ole’ house, like jenny in forest gump
boy, suga woulda, man i been in the hood of suga
every nugga in suge hood a pusha
bubba kush a bowl of sugar
boy opened up shop, i ain’t no shoulda, woulda, coulda nigga
but i wish a nigga woulda shoulda
blllttt, bllllttt, bllllltt, brrrtt
i love them gun sounds, love them, love them gun sounds
love them gun sounds, love the, love the gun sounds
those gun sounds y’all tired of, me too
imagine how it felt on the other side of ’em
people pullin’ up on the side of ’em
guys dumpin’
i’m here, checkin’ my body like i was tryin’ to find somethin’
boy the shit happened broad daylight
4-5 somethin’
i run up on him broad daylight and 4-5 somethin’
white castle, beef over the bread, he get a fried onion
miss? i’m comin’ ’round the drive-thru like i forgot to get my fries from ’em
semi, big bullets comin’ out, an optimus prime dumpin’
look like big ole’ rockets takin’ off, olajuwon dunkin’
be 2 k’s (b2ks) , put holes in the venue; omarion comin’
elevator, this kick back will teach ya line somethin’
so papa, stop with all that goo goo gaga
nigga aim at his noodle pasta, turn to lasagna
brrraka, pull off with the smoothest posture
pop ya, do the cha cha ‘la cucaracha’
mr. chilaka boo or mr. boo blaka
i’m a ras kad rasta, b-mba clot shotta
blocka, he see the glocka, “ay caramba”
quiet nigga!

[round 2: shotgun suge]
big man, that know how to shoot, i’m that burner
i’ll snatch his flag and show him the tre like scout’s honor
i got him reachin’ for breath, on his back i’m in a ski mask
barrel in his mouth will get t (tea) bagged
i’m in my t bag
blow smoke out the back of his brains if he blink fast
guns is b-tter, extra powder for the speed bag
do him old school, like liu kang on the dreamcast
these bullets, pain pills they relax him
we don’t even talk about young kannon i’m way past him
this mop’ll clean him up, i ajax him
then ask his homie, “you need some help” then they wax him
he look like he wanna fight, swing i’ma eat that
his face, like a case i’ma beat that
snatch his soul and hang his body on a meat rack
stomach shot, expose everything he digest
everything he ate on the floor, we can have a buffet for the projects
i heard he pillow talkin’ to a b-tch, she blowin’ smoke at him
he real loose wit’ the lips, there’s somethin’ dose ’bout him
for that snapchat i knock the ghost out him
he say he post straps, i don’t believe he shoot it he bluffin’
i’m russell westbrook with the shootin’ cause i do it for nothin’
headshot, erase everything off his hard drive
you and charlie clips, some big pussy niggas, stop battlin’ bar gods
talkin’ that chilaka boo…boo bap, nigga what gun is that?
niggas like you make me not wanna rap
i got a black bird you ain’t even know it clap
left a hole in his head the doctors had to sew him back
now run tell that, when that chopper shoot
cause what i got will knock martin lawrence out his big momma suit
i can hang him from a noose, big necklace
bullets like sausage links, so get reckless
pancake clip on the tommy i feed him a big breakfast
i’m in chicago it’s so many guns they gotta bring in the swat
russian mac wit’ the beam on the top
fuck that, desperado let it ring out the box
i left so many bodies they had to ring up barack
aye and you praisin’ chief keef like he the king and you the prince?
hit durrell davis, he had that injury and ain’t been in a jersey since
jersey

[round 3: big t]
tell the truth, you was scared to show ya face in chicago
now you face to face with the face of chicago
all that voice raisin’ is raw bro
but in the end (indiana) versus pacers/chicago
i feelin’ he hate t, i run in the crib he on (caribbean) and make him meet ya maker tomorrow
he leave the chopper follow every way y’all go like oj in the bronco
don’t worry ’bout mine, look for the boys wit’ red stripes; where’s waldo?
they shoot every grape y’all know
i’m k!llin’ everything in the color purple we even made a mistake and grazed harpo
yeah i’m lyin’, the thing ain’t mine, the k borrowed
bullet edge look like football heads, hey arnold
hey y’all know, my niggas they do whatever i tell ’em to
mark ’em out, this cal’ ender (calendar), i’m just cleanin’ off of my schedule
dracula, i bring it to light, it be the death of you
master splinter, i will injure raisin’ a shell in you
leonardo, michelangelo, raphael and donatello you
twin double barrel too, tia and tamara too
turn his [?] you be a vegetable
imagine what it turn your melon to
i aim it down, it still (steel) can’ eat off the ground like the five second rule
let ’em boo
but this tough guy act be k!llin’ me
he deliberately try to intimidate niggas physically
that’s cause you wack lyrically
what you get mad, ya raps don’t work?
yo’ big -ss get a job in security
seriously, cause you ain’t a felon suge
when the cops come to k!ll a blood, these niggas ain’t tellin’ suge
like, i’m tellin’ cuz, cause he look like he be tellin’ cuz
man i would never k!ll bugs with shotgun; elmer fudd
yeah what? he like to tell stuff

{crowd starts to boo}

cause he like to tell stuff, police who, what, when, where, was
drop a dime in there; player’s club
arms like a bear hug
he get in a tight squeeze like a bear hug
he’ll send his dawgs (dogs) to court like; air bud
yeah what? they might give me life bro
just cause i go to jail i can’t spend my life broke
i’m like the show power cause i get money wit’ the white folks
nah, that was wack, cause i set up to put caine in behind bars like ghost
my style gross, you look like you throw haymaker rights
first of all you got a bad back, i seen ya leg, you favor the right
swing on me, i’ll hit him with the haymaker right
teeth stickin’ out like denzel in a mayweather fight
yo, you ain’t know a big nigga like me nice
you slow too, might swing twice
head crack, like three dice
it be a staple in his lid like chinese rice
i’m nice, i wonder, you alright?
i wonder how suge’ll (sugar) feel
cause the way he got hit up top, i don’t think suge’ll heal (sugar hill)
the same nigga, pull up on him like an uber driver
same nigga that put him in the ground like a scuba diver
nah, i had a regular glock, i got a new supplier
30 shots, add more to the meal (mil) like a super sizer
let me show you a different scheme, he’ll do
i come through knockin’ down the bricks; beetlejuice
boy you can tell it’s gon’ be shockin’; pikachu
palm five, cover his eyes; peek a boo
quiet!

[round 3: shotgun suge]
aye rex, i told big t not to play with this shotty
cause i turn into osama suge laden and knock all the pork out his body
i’ll flood c-ke on the strip keep his block quiet
gun down, make him run now like shots fired
bully shit, 6’5″ like the watts riot
fuck him, i’ll k!ll his sister get her mike meyer’ed
i keep the steel ’round like a rim tire
i’ll slit his throat with a thin wire
you got quiet money, let them fire
this nigga terrance lyin’ about his empire
i’ll brush him off like a paint shop
crime scene when the .8 pop
they was rick ross how his weight drop
man i’ll turn big t (tee) to a tank top
play wit’ me, i’ll damage guys
he dirty? he unsanitized
cause suge let the hammer fly, shit pop like a pan of fries
you been shot before?
{suge starts slow clapping}
well i’m happy you made it
cause if that was me, you wouldn’t have made it
i would’ve hit you with everything the chrome hold
i would’ve k!lled all you motherfuckers; [?]
oh you sittin’ in the car? i’ll break the gl-ss on him like stone cold
fuck him, i wanna see him stretched
caught him ‘slippin” like dmx
shotgun eat through the vest
crime scene shells look like stunt pegs on bmx
dread wig, one eye c-cked
for a couple bands i’ll have him ‘running through the city’ bae like fetty wap
before you act hard, you better strap hard cause i attack hard
i’m like kimbo slice in the backyard
big t eyein’ me down, what the fuck you eyein’ at?
oh for bein’ a stare master (stairmaster) i’ma knock off some body fat
let’s get into some gangsta shit
pump niggas get hypnotized from the blick of the sig’
hope he ready to die with a gat at his wig
headshot, that’s what t get for thinkin’ he big
i wish that was your child that got mike brown
no justice, no peace, i’ll k!ll his dreams
i’ve been waitin’ to do a chicago nigga like cochise

{shotgun suge talks to hitman holla}
you next. don’t play wit’ me. don’t play wit’ me. don’t play wit’me

what is life like?
while he was tryin’ to stuff mac & cheese shells in a pot
i was tryin’ to stuff mac shells in a glock
while he was watchin’ toy story i was watchin’ south central wit’ the bros
while he was tryin’ to put a nose on mr. potato head i was tryin’ to put a potato on the nose!
random: aye hitman! aye hitman! you ain’t no hit man
you ain’t got no .40 weapon
aye hitman, i’m a real hit man, agent 47
aye verb! aye verb! aye verb what’s crackin’ you b-tch or not
aye tay i can serve roc(k) when he lick a shot
he a pussy nigga, type to get his toe nail painted and get mad that he missed a spot
jersey!

- urltv lyrics

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