URLtv – Rum Nitty Vs. Ave lyrics

[Round 1: Ave]
Nitty, tonight, I’d advise there be no horseplayin', bring your best
This was a fresh move, for you still an L, ‘cause I ain’t Chess
They say my style placed me top of the rookies
Well, I feel like Trey in the crib
‘Cause punchin' with tiers finally got me this pussy
Nitty, what’s goodie?
Fuck that! You brought your block for support?
‘Cause I could tell these niggas not what you thought
The first Quarter with the problem gettin' dropped
But if the Glock the resort
You’ll hear shots poppin' in Quads, think Pac in New York
See, quarters is quads, the same place where niggas set it on Pac
Nigga, you’re just a stepping stone to get me on top
But apparently, bein' drugged is your plot, y’all think not
He was fiendin' to be on Smack, now he beggin' for Roc
But they sent me to put the chalk to him
So if I am legend, then watch how I wash dog while I talk to him
Just ‘cause the Poet mark you a genius
That don’t mean you on point, son
'Cause you on Kevin Johnson in Phoenix!
I get to sparkin' these ninas
Well, you’ll be Denzel in He Got Game
Go from the box to you talkin' with Jesus
See, y’all the reason niggas thinkin' they tough
‘Cause reppin' that 4th Quarter only mean shit'll change for a buck
Wait, hold up, see all this Crip shit you spit out your mouth
Don’t mean nothin' when my niggas in route
He’ll white flag once my clique at his house
That’s where you see these niggas in living color
‘Cause after the first clip the bitches come out
I mean, these 4th Quarter niggas ain’t hard, they’re scared for ya
As soon as you fired on they off: go Craig on ya
Or I’ll rob you ‘til your bread shorter
Put that drum stick to your thigh
You either come off the chicken or lose a leg, Quarter
But you ain’t in the streets at all, you bum
Your heart not strong enough to run that base: you John Q son
You strapped up? Well, I’m armed too, chump, the war started
Fuck your vest, let it scream on caps: I’m Troy Martin
Pardon, no sparkin', gun butt with the mean grip
The serial smack his face like he ridin' with Queenzflip
‘Cause we ain’t slip with straps, what’s cookin'?
I’m on my Voletta Wallace
I brought that big poppa back through Brooklyn
So fuck Rum! Besides, I be drinkin' on that Henny
It won’t mean shit to leave him stinkin' from the semi
But they gassed him up thinkin' he gon’ hit me
But he don’t want to be the one sent to face the right: that’s Lincoln on the penny
And I still got the weapons to end it
So you can go from the right to bare arms like the Second Amendment
I extended the sweetest piece
So if Beas' need this West Coast nigga dead by 30
I’ll make it easy, E
He ain’t beatin' me, nor none of these fuckin' faggots
If you got rage to come after Ave, just don’t be average
See, you talkin' it like you straight killers
Soon as he hook, put money on, they book, like it’s JPay, nigga
I don’t care if you Crip bang, bitch
One shot will finish this 4th Quarter in Phoenix
I don’t bull in the game, 6
Y’all pump packs and shit…wait, backtrack
4th quarter, Phoenix – that Game 6 shot was Paxson, bitch!
I stash that fifth, and beat the foul out ya
Then point it at the back of your head: that’s Alfalfa
It ain’t nothin' tough ‘bout ya, see, I stay fight ready
And I off the nigga cap: that’s CakeLyfe Prezzy
(Shout out to WeGoHard)
How he gon’ check me? Y’all gassin' this nigga like he go so hard
That’s with the scam in on a card, you’re like a ZoGuard
But you ain’t gettin' real dough, nigga
Nobody on foot ball between bars but a field goal kicker
I fear no nigga, so let him be stupid to prove he truly swing
Put a clear round in this pussy: my shooters NuvaRing
Fuck who he bring, ‘cause if they cross them trenches
He the first down, soon as he get the fourth and inches
Wait, but you Writer’s Bloque, right?
Well, where the fuck them clowns when you need them?
Soon as J see the big cannon, the rounds gon’ delete him
But Danny get the shotty right in his mouth, when I see him
Think Yo Gotti, ‘cause soon as it goes down, end of DM
And since Magic want to know who’s a new killer
Yeah, I know the answer
Ayy, I can reenact how you shoot and step over Lou niggas
So fuck what this clown come spit
‘Cause when I’m smokin' the 4th Quarter
That only mean he down 1-zip – time, man!


[Round 1: Rum Nitty]
We got Rum Nitty versus Ave
Damn, Smack got me movin' backwards
You don’t see that I’m the truth?
It’s like I dropped a tier to give you this shot: I’m Nino on the roof
Don’t leave out the venue, I see niggas squeezin' out the coupe
My white boy from Queens said
“Soon as you done: leave, he finna shoot.”
They brought the best to him, and they bet
Norbes and Myers put papers down for this shit: public restrooms
I’ll fuck your bitch pussy with the 9 barrel, Nitty trippin'
Make sure your girl’s tore with the mill', like Drizzy dissin'
Then he gets it, if I forget the mittens
I’ll slide through with two socks on the Tom: that’s Risky Business
Or he’ll get the blade, stick it in your temple, twist it
Pull it out, and run it back in your head like you’re reminiscin'
The punch crazy
But the set-up get caught later like Jimmy Henchman
I’m dope, nigga
I’ll OD in this bitch if I come out the coat with it
Then mark you out before the chest shot: Pulp Fiction
If I whip the piece, your family fucked
Headshot your mom's sister
They gon’ have to M-O-P your aunty up
Handle what? Niggas dyin'
You’ll see a flash from behind when the milli light him
That was fire, comin' from the background like Gwitty hypin'
Lift the iron, I’ll let a dummy go off the top, like 50 Tyson
But they say you’re washin' me
I say, “Cool, cut the check
Then he’s who I’ma air out next," like a tracheotomy
Don’t lie to me, ‘cause I’ll be at your crib knockin'
With a big fifth, that bitch shining
Catch what the nickel send through the door, nigga, here’s Johnny!
Something fat and a little colt, it be a big body
Catch the Tommy, boy, and rip your back like Chris Farley
If I raise, shit sparkin'
I let that bitch go “blaka,” nigga… like he Facebook stalkin'
Or I’ll be at your door and all
The whole house'll rest, ‘cause that shit you on ain’t cool
You took it too far, now I’m goin' off
I know he soft
From the jump I get it in, so many men die when the coin toss
Nah, I got a hundred in the drum to get busy with
He try to run, guess whose back gettin' 50 sent in?
I lock and load, ridin' out with the squad for sure
I get it jumpin' for the Quarter off top, nigga, I’m the GOAT
Fuckin' maricón!
Two shots leave Roc laid on Ave, it look like cobblestone
You copy, holmes? One from the can pop at him
I let it fly, it will break up Ave like Hancock landin'
What your hands like, family?
You’ll get your chin broken
Right left, left right, you’ll get clocked back and forth like hypnosis
I’m a .40-sparker
I’ll let it wet across your forehead like holy water
He known for talkin' – me, I’ll lift it and squeeze
He try to dip, then this shit erase your back
Like when your earring’s missin' a piece
Gun Line King, I used to let the can go daily
Beam on it, I inf a mil and catch you with the semi lackin'
That’s what the can for, baby
We don’t keep it cool; real life shit, I keep a tool
Pull and squeeze and shoot
Let ten open up on his face like peek-a-boo
He done joined the Cave
So now he think he royal every time he come around, right?
Well, I’ll give you kings ten, Ave, head shot, lift your crown heights
I’ll run inside, lace the crib
Shootin' over the table, shit, take his ribs
Bet five racks I won’t miss this trash nigga, I’m Money Making Mitch
Real shit, you can’t keep it real yourself
Nigga, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… (Kill yourself!)


[Round 2: Ave]
Hottest in the city, they heard that I’m really poppin'
I’m good on every block, I ain’t gotta be milly rockin'
Ave nice, and the last dude that doubt that, nigga
Died fuckin' with the boss: he went out like Blizzard
You’ll get the picture, I was plannin' to kill you in the future
They wanted to see the king this March: I’m Martin Luther
You’re just hyped-up when you matter
But now that I get at him
Even they see you bodied, bitch, that ain’t bitin' in the Apple
I’ma snap him, take it past rap, I bet I’ll leave him there
Soon as I eyeball a Quarter like I don’t need a scale
Tell your people bail, ‘cause I won’t even speak
Just “shh,” aim on a nigga, then I OD B
He ain’t gotta get the Glock, goddamn it
Nigga, he’ll be socked up, like when you give a back shot standin'
I could handle him with a mean right; but on the other hand
A pump can light up the face like Halloween night
‘Cause they just seem hype
You know, clown face, sound brave
Throw their fours up like they’re wild, that’s what wild rage
That shit for the crowd, ace, bet if we scrap
Y’all gon’ see his troops jet in the back: that’s Colonel Guile stage
That’s child play, the Internet diggin' this fuckin' clown
You think you Pac? Well, try to be digital underground
‘Cause can’t no dummy play me
My lil dog be goin' bananas, kickin' cans
Even my puppy monkey, baby
But I ain’t get patted down, I’m concealin' the Smith 'N'
So watch your lips whenever a real nigga spittin'
I go to kickin' my rounds and hear these clowns
And get the feeling they trippin'
I dump the .40 while I’m cookin': that’s Steel in the kitchen
You see the difference? With punches I’m an animal, duke
Even handle you with the hands? ‘Cause these zoo landers too
See, I can beat this geek up, or with this stick
Cap around on the eye, then shell his body like he Mr. Peanut
Y’all got me fucked up
What, y’all don’t think that we hold lead?
I kick up in his spot, that Glock to his forehead
He don’t open up that box for the bread
Then what he face even uglier if locks get cut: that’s O-Red
Then I’m Swayze when that shotty through spittin'
‘Cause as soon as you see this bitch run up on me
Watch the body get lifted – who wanna dirty dance?
30 in the can sparkin'
25 in the 4th Quarter, like Reggie in the Garden
But you don’t wanna lose your life right here
You’ll end up with a light pop at head: now that’s a bright idea
My nigga Law told me, "Punch out silly, Rum on a roll!"
Well, I’m in it, Ty, I doubt it if this bird out-spit me
See, he ain’t even peep that word out, did he?
I said "In it, Ty," put that together, I ain’t worried 'bout Nitty
‘Cause Cornell’s not a shotter
I flesh Corn, and your shit, you’ll pass but you won’t die just proper
I’ll get him popped up, matter of fact, nah, I’ll kill his ass
Dome shot, head hit his shoulder, look like the Thriller dance
See, I can give him jabs, ‘cause the left done left a lot shook
Or a hole around in the neck, look what the shot put
That Glock cook, but the rifle round is madness
I’ll touch through the lens: that’s Calvin glasses
Or I’ll catch him with his folks hangin', close-rangin', low-aimin'
Both bangers ringin' together, look like I’m rope swingin'
Bro thinks I’m jokin', but I’ll smoke him on the scene
Two grips rippin' his shirt: he Hogan in the ring
Fuck you mean? You know we talk that slick talk, that stick talk
Bullet in his shoe if he move, now tell this Crip walk


[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
So you’re in Roc family, right? Well, that shit fake
I’ll whip a big blade, it’s about one foot, it’s for your kin, Tay
Get slayed, stand over the body with the stick waived
You’re number 2 in the city, you’re used to bein' under a big K
I’m straight to it, I’ll be goin' for blood from the jump
Radio Raheem rings: I don’t show a hater love when I punch
Get your mug pushed in, jump and let a slug cook him
Ironic how I’m gonna destroy Ave but I love Brooklyn
Way different, just expect I’ma shoot you
You press my buttons, soon as I see money I’ma pull out
Does this register to you?
You thinkin' I’ma get killed, that’s grimy
‘Cause what I kick give you three clear rounds to the side
Like an Air Max 90
I’m finna have a blueprint to kill this geek if this works out
Oh, y’all ain’t peep Verb versus SB?
I started off with the remedy in the first round
I let it ring, if he survive your man in surgery next
He come back and get the second ring
Or visit your city with the matics poppin', and I’m robbin'
Tryin' to get rid of your house in Virginia like Magic Johnson
I’ll clap an artist, good shot, that’s a marksman
Pull a bow and put an arrow in his face: Ave a target
I send my young niggas dumpin' out the steel
They get one off – BAH!
The first pop warn a nigga how the youngins in the field
I got a clip full of hollows for whoever talk
I’ll leave four of these bitches smokin' on your roof like Set It Off
No matter a vet or a rookie
‘Cause I’ve been lettin' loose ever since I came out, baby
But the key goes to flex on a pussy
Get pistol whipped with the MAC: I’ll Big Pun a bitch
So if this guy goes upside your head, it’s capital punishment
Suck a dick! I’m known to smoke bitches
I’ll make a nice nigga hang it up, literally
You missed the punch, that means I’ll rope a dope nigga
Got an aim slanted when I hold the four spittin'
Sideways, I’ll peel out a round on Ave, like I’m Tokyo driftin'
Behind these bars, he’s goin' through some shit: Shawshank escape
I get it poppin', pet adoption: I’ll put dog in his place
I give a fuck if a nigga big, I’ll be all in his space
You can be Tyson cut, don’t mean you want parts in the fade
But y’all call it shakin', right? Cool, I got you a little later
The nina kill him, two of these'll peel him
I’ll black and let it fly in his face like FEMA children
You type done, you’ll lose all train of thought when the 9 dump
A head shot will make him blank it out like Mike's son
I’ll light one, you make a move, you’ll get done dirty
The DE take off sides if you jump early
But niggas stay talkin', remain calm or the blade on him
Then I run it across Ave like I’m jaywalkin'
Tez on Twitter actin' like he wanna smoke – okay, partner
If the fifth in the shorts
Then I’m whippin' it on Cort' like James Harden
I’ll straight box him, he say somethin' crazy I’ma swing
2K free throw, soon as he get to the line
We get it shakin' on the screen
Don’t try to scam me, I got nice hands and somethin' nice handy
And I’ll pop a round in your life like a white family
KG gave me the extra magazine
Like, “You might wanna beware, not scared.”
He’ll get a head shot
The clip I got from Kevin bakin', I’ll let it air up there
And your squad can’t jump in, this is yo' bag
Joey Jihad shit: you better take these punches on your own, Ave!
I don’t like you bitches
So watch the boy from the Quarter black and enlighten niggas
Large slug, I’ll ice you with it, nothin' small’s in the clip
A little nigga spit big 16’s like "Sky’s The Limit"
Real shit, you can’t keep it real yourself
Nigga, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… (Kill yourself!)

[Round 3: Ave]
To all you little niggas sendin' shots at the game, scram
Switch up your game plan, ‘cause shit changed
Don’t send a shot that’s way out your range, damn
Like, get this in your brains, fam
Before you make a Roc round
You got to see Ave first, that’s on the Cave, man
Don’t even play if y’all ain’t killers
‘Cause you gon’ have to be more than sharp for Tay
You know rock breaks scissors
But now that I’m up in the picture
Nigga, step to me, go ahead and sleep
But as soon as I catch you restin', peace
See, I’m that nigga in the East, nigga, they was checkin' for me
Basically, you get to eat off my flow: I’m Victor Sweet
See, that’s why we’re different, geek
‘Cause see I’ve been about the action
30 under the 40: that’s an improper fraction
I clap whatever pop in his mind
So you’ll be dead before Smack transform him
The first opp to miss prime
‘Cause never mind, ‘cause they don’t need him
Maybe I can leave him undercover next to God: I’ll J. Reid him
Who can’t see him? My flow skill only prove that he roadkill
I’ll beat him at his style with a touch, give it that road feel
And yo, fuck that punchline belt that they say you hold, queer
‘Cause I’ll put a tip to that title like it’s a Hov deal
I’m so ill, my flow hell, bro
Shit, I done took plain bars and washed bodies, like hotel soap
I’ll let a shell go, but he ain’t got the heart to be strapped
Don’t no niggas in Phoenix ring, blame Barkley for that
But I got smokers that clap, nigga, they stay with it
Soon as you see us whip, let that HK hit it
But I don’t need cash to pay they ticket
Shit, I can slide a cookie on the card, just like Day-Day did it
You want to take a thug’s gamble?
Well, understand, I’m strapped and fat
On both sides, nigga, I love handles
So fuck beef, ‘cause we run to it, sign on a pair of pennies
Watch the tongue before you see one through it
But you ain’t stupid, and you know that if we rumble, you out
So why speak what you don’t wanna be 'bout?
Like, be humble, don’t go runnin' your mouth
Or you can get a buck 50 upfront
I’ll start his own GoFundMe account
See, they doubt us, ‘cause we some south hitters
Well, I’m in your cotton-picking yard, holdin' my uncle Tom
Come out the house, nigga!
Big mouth, get a fuckin' bum murked up
‘Cause I doubt if he can hold steel, like your son first cut
It’s all a bluff, y’all buyin' all this reckless shit he talk?
I mean he ain’t really shootin': he Tom Sheppard in the park
So put your state on the map and just chill
Keep it rap ‘fore that AR is on a nigga back for real
You see the skill, they kill for the type of shit Ave write
I’m John Stockton with a dish to Malone, I’m past nice
Make your riders pay bucks up front, like a cab price
So when your team cap right on the head, it’s draft night
‘Cause you bad, right? Cool, well, the shots will get fatal
Let him run, shit, we ain’t done; spin the block like a dreidel
‘Cause we ain’t worried about the jakes, dog, we play raw
I don’t feel it’s a big risk, fuck it: that’s Ray Charles
But see, y’all support these bluffs
Meanwhile, I got a nigga tryin' to fight justice
Like Chicago with the brush
So before you start actin' all hyped from your yes men
Just know, life ain’t make you six feet, but death can
So you sayin' shit to fit for the footage
‘Cause where I’m from, we’re gon’ pull it
Long as it got a fire pin to the bullets
A high point 40 saved my life, I fell in love with that
That plastic was poppin' them rounds, and it wasn’t bubblewrap
But KG claim the West on your back? Well
When you’re shot and end up in a heavy bag, thank Kevin for that
So I hope he brung his chopper
‘Cause soon as he done, partner, niggas get lumped proper
We still owe them one for Hoffa
Now, I ain’t makin' this no Westside hate
Well, if it’s poppin' shit, then part two, they told me "Next fry Day!"
‘Cause I don’t play, that tough shit that he sayin', made up
Straight fable, you sex on cable: fake fuck
‘Cause you talkin' like you bangin' that steel
But see I really doubt that B be gunnin' unless you thinkin' like Bill
See, I can punch him to death
Not just with bars though, my hands is a problem
I’ll leave him lumped up, bad as Apollo
See, I ain’t only got to blast it with hollows
I mean, the Bible said “Thou shall not steal”
That’s the only Commandment I follow
I know I’m sinnin', Lord
No, BLAOW! – look who I’m sendin', Lord
You’ll see a Quarter flip in the battle, like the beginning, or
Squeeze this round, well, I can leave the semi now
‘Cause they ain’t gettin' the prints like Patrice McDowell
I got now, I told you fix my plate, right, Smack?
‘Cause they be sleepin', it’s time I bring my state right back
I don’t give a fuck about these sucker niggas, they type wack
‘Cause I’m a nigga out of Norfolk, straight like that

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
Shit can get real Mz. Gracie, my nigga
I know what y’all thinkin', wait, y’all thinkin' weight
Nah, overkill, two hands over the mill
That’s what I was sayin': grace
A headshot in front of a crowd, he’ll go a crazy way
But givin' him the steel in the chest really takes the cake
For the record, I’ll deal with you, like labelmates
I’m nice, even if I fuck up it’s a dope error, like ‘88
He be talkin' like his gun dump
But won’t say it to the kid, I’ll lift a 9 in his face like I’m Nunn Nunn
You ain’t use your head, think
Better go watch my last shit again
That’ll make a young nigga fear the pen
He’ll be scared straight, I don’t lead waste
I’m only aimin' to stretch him
If I miss you, baby, it’s gon’ be okay, I got faith I’ma X him
Get did bad, bullet knock your man hat in the streets
For talkin' East–West, I’ll split you with the fifth, Ave
Quick bag, the PG never had a shot
Don’t be shocked if the kid pass
Let 30 out the thing, Saga versus Chilla
Tryin' to make his back slide with a dirty magazine
But they say his rounds poppin'
And I don’t want no trouble with that
But I’m just too damn different like Double Impact
Facts, one 9 will clap, your spine will crack
From this old Colt, they gon’ have to reunite his back
I can scrap, go across his chin, try the left
Or the right shift to flip the script: that’s The Butterfly Effect
Get ran through, I used to keep the nina on me ‘cause I had to
And on them long nights, Coors Light: shit got cold, the can blew
But you, on my life, nigga sweet, can’t catch me slippin'
I’ll commit assault on Ave like it’s ice on the street
Get stomped out if my squad start it
He’ll have 50 niggas turnin' up on Ave: that’s a block party
But he fuck with the law prob'ly
So I shouldn’t waste my breath on a rat, I ain’t John Coffey
But niggas blow smoke, no action, so if he miss a step
The 5 gettin' whipped from the belt: I go Joe Jackson
We pull up gangbangin', hoppin' out the 4-door flaggin'
And on sight, I’ll pick you off, like they photo-flagged him
I’m known for that, mid battle, a 40 clap
That shit will stop Ave dead in a round like a cul-de-sac
My style belong on Smack, I’m that sure, you dig me?
Y’all remember I’m Gonna Git You Sucka?
Well, me not steppin' on the platform is fishy
And me versus the niggas y’all wanna see?
It won’t happen – I come at them, they run from me
So I can only kill what rap niggas Smack put in front of me
But first, they ain’t want to fuck with me
And I’d have made it to the stage quicker
If I’d have done a PG or been from the East
But I battled Rex, Red, Ars, Lotta, Magic
For me to come to the East and do a PG, that’s backwards
But I still made it to this stage without that shit
So facts is, I ain’t earn my respect – I snatched it!
So you can’t put me in that box, I’m sorry
I done travelled all over the atlas, but y’all think I’ma come back to the Ave and get ran off? I’m not Safaree
The MAC raised, I’m droppin' every nigga out the BatCave
But first it started on the Ave like the old SMACK days!
"New York, New York, big city of dreams"
Y’all remember that Snoop shit?
Well, I brought in my dog pound
And let it kick in the building like Snoop did
Just worry ‘bout the bars and don’t worry what I got on
But if you is worried, lomclothing.com
Bitch, I already told him
I’m 99 percent gun lines, the other 1 is the slogan: KILL YOURSELF!