URLtv – Tay Roc Vs JC lyrics

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
Just know in one of these rounds I'ma do you something tragic
Which means either you gone get bodied
Or have a fucking classic
I’m the one that spazzes
Treat every battle like Summer Madness
Sleep on me til that comfy bed become a casket
Faggot, did Smack sign you up to die or what?
Good with the clippers, I bet he fade when I line him up
The 9 is tucked and this iron buck
If you try your luck like you’re drunk
Take a shot to the head; that’s bottoms up
I’m being blunt, but you ain’t high enough
I’m the type to kick it with you
Then kick in your door and tie you up
I caught him with his bitch, I had time enough
I whipped out my blade and laid my MAC down
She knew I wasn’t tryna fuck
Goon shit, and this hockey mask like a Mighty Duck
With a hockey stick I’m treating his head like a hockey puck
His head would’ve had enough knots, but that’s not enough
I beat this nigga like the soda machine when my dollar’s stuck
We take change like a Spade’s game, get your diamonds cut
We strapped with them ladders in the whip; that’s a fire truck
That shotty dump, leave drama slumped
Docs ain’t seen nobody
With this many bucks on him since Donald Trump
Time is up, let me catch you with your soft squad
I take every shot with no assist; I’m a ballhog
I don’t leave a witness to call log
Like I’ll get you hit with a sawed-off
And every nigga that saw off’d
That’s wordplay, I got plenty more though
Like if it’s war and they send me
All you’ll get hit with a semi-auto
This nigga act up tonight, he won’t see tomorrow
Money should’ve left me alone like I need to borrow
Dig me? You an actual dead guy, gun bar king
Niggas get clapped when the lead fly
You’ll be suited looking like a bachelor just died
Leave you laying in a casket, that’s half of his bed size
That’s how I pray for all of them
Your daughter, and ya aunt and them
You gotta call 9-11, my niggas plain bomb on them
I’m like fuck you and your squadron
I always look in a bulls-eye when I’m targeting
Pardon him, but dude is tripping
Til I turn into Bishop off this Juice I’m sipping
But the difference
I can shoot through houses with this tool I’m gripping
These choppers hold extensions, but this new edition
Through the scope I could hit kids, I got supervision
I can clear a lot when this Uz' sprayed off
I went to Newark and dropped a K and copped a new AR
That’s two guns to knock this toupee off
I let one ring, one on hold; that’s a two way call
You ain’t hard I don’t believe whatever you confess
I got navigation for whatever you address
I’ll get you robbed for whatever you have left
Like exorcisms, taking him off of whatever he posses
I got bars, gun line after gun line, in fact
You saw what I did to the last rookie from Pontiac
I sent his soul where Rich Dolarz at
You see URL needed some type of Magic
To bring that Zombie back
I fuck niggas up, more than likely a fag dying
I’ll leave a golf ball hole in one when I grab iron
JC you ran into Roc at a bad timing
You the second Pontiac I fucked up, I got bad driving
I take what I want, there’s no asking them
I couldn’t wait to punch his mic around, Joe Jackson them
It’s only right that I’m toe tagging him, close casket them
Have bullets going in and out of Carter, dope trafficking


[Round 1: JC]
Aye, this a big business
You gotta become a savage in seconds
Make a lasting impression and stick with it
Now this could either help you or harm you
And I ain't exactly been known for gift giving
Besides, every arm I've ever lent done had clips in it
Now you can stand here and act like this can't turn up
You've been awfully quiet
But if I get bored with you, a board hit you, nigga I'll start a riot
I tried to tell him right when he signed he was out of his mind
But y'all wanna ignore this shit, now I'm torching the 5th
They gone have to wrap him up
And get spatulas for what the coroners missed
Now them basic rhymes
But I'm facing time for these innovative lines
They played rewind, said you was nice, basically lying
Now you get all throwaways, watch, just for wasting my time
One call, your fam missing. I'm van whipping
He using a bus pass, I pass bustin' past the bus
Caught him in public tran-slipping
But what you want me to do?
You want me to flip your little bars and tell you who you lost to? See, that's where these boys lost
I ain't even give a fuck about who you were until the coin toss
But they all know me, right? And dog not waiting
And a portion of that come from my Kevorkian practise
I damn near lost all my patience
Now to them, that could mean absolutely nothing
To him, that's a bad life
That passion gone get him past Christ
When niggas see the shit from my pen, men ship-jump
I write that nice!
A nigga showed me a picture of Roc and said "You wanna throw darts for fun?"
I said elaborate, he showed me a list of names, said target one
I said you know what? I don't care about NONE of them niggas
He said you sound like all of us
So y'all talk to son and let him know y'all knew he was a bitch before I called him one
But, y'all think this a match? Well y'all trippin'
You the reason kings sacrifice pawns, nigga
Push that button
All you gone see is men in black and cars flipping
Y'all victims, y'all can play that
But we're preditors, we breed better, y'all need effort
Even though they saying your quotes
They think you a joke; you Heath Ledger
Now let's just say this a even match…
And believe in fact you are nice and they didn't lie
You got me, so you don't know whether you're being rewarded or penalized
Let's get it simplified: They don't want you ahead, they wanted your head. To disarm a unarmed G
And the fact that they even wanna broadcast this broad's cast is beyond me
But this is way more than a step down for me
This is a free-fall, no parachute
But a pair of paramount picture sized clips
That's what I've prepared for you
Now apparently he don't know what I mean by paramount
So picture this…
A shot from each hammer across you; that's a pair amount
No, picture this: one arm for each half of his crew
I'll pair 'em out
Pop a flare, y'all gon let these broke niggas die like ObamaCare
This my section. And when I get to dissecting this dyke's section he gone die in seconds
Prove me wrong, them clips movie long
I don't give a fuck if you can act, out here you got the starring role: you that main nigga we shooting at
See we shooting straps
You unarmed niggas ain't shooting back
Y'all try to run, we shooting backs
Gats is sparking. He wanted action? Start it
You a active target, but my click poppin' with big choppers that'll knock Big Momma back to Martin!
But let's bring truth to it
Targets, we don't move around 'em but we move through it
But you stupid for letting them mourning your death
Just for YouTubing
You know what he told me? "Spare you"
You know what I told him? "Find a spare you!"
You expendable, I got a scope
He interviewed during his interview
That chest shot gave him a inner view of the inner you
You know what's funny? I go all over killing dudes
Y'all seen me, is this new? I was taught to go long running with whoever head they pitching to
But this is who I end up with…
I'm glad you still around for this shit
But do not go back to that Cave yet
Cause there's still two more rounds of this shit


[Round 2 : Tay Roc]
You remind me of Shorty Doo Wop, you don’t pop 4’s
I show up to ya door with a snot nose, that’s a Roscoe
In his crib I was decoratin' with shots though
Puttin' 5 in his back when I let a flock go
You a league hopper, imma put you in ya place
You gon’ get what you urn, that’s ashes in a vase
Let me demonstrate, nigga I ain’t Organik
You’ll really get bodied if I put 100 Bulletz in ya face
I beat niggas that ain’t in ya ranks
I already sonned Will, I’m Phillip Banks
And you Carlton, clown nigga on every scene
I should of deaded you a long time ago instead of Qleen
Lil’ nigga watch ya lips or get swole shit
I have you walkin' with a Crooked Smile, J. Cole shit
I’m runnin' Yak, lil nigga you don’t control shit
Since he from the Yak, imma kill with old shit
I’m back, warn him that I’m liable to snap on him
Swing a bat on him, no jokin' when it crack on him
SMACK puts racks on him, it’s a wrap for him
Another Yak town nigga imma kill, but imma pour a Yak on him
Just ask Will, they’ll find your ass killed
Do you wanna know how the trunk of that Pontiac feel?
You from Pontiac? Cool, lil’ Pontiac, chill
I’ll put high beams in lil’ Pontiac grill
And ya arrogant act, just ain’t right
You ain’t got to be Conceited just cause ya’ll niggas the same height
But fuck the jokes I’ll get you bodied in plain sight
This two piece ain’t a left hook or straight right
Headshot when I clap at JC
If D MC don’t run I’ll Jam Master J, C
I ain’t ask for JC, but this is who you give me?
Fine SMACK, I’ll give the shots, but when Surf gon’ give me mine?
Not just him, Calicoe, Charlie too
2014, I’m tryna get rid of all of you
Julian let me talk to you, these bullets cost Cash Money
They’ll kiss his Baby and go through Carter too
I said that wrong, that Cash Money will get son ate
Leave his Baby in tears cause she ain’t get one kiss
Even Lil Wayne will tell you that I don’t trust shit
That’s why I made sure all my shooters in the Trukfit
So what’s up? Get everythin' from ya nose and up broken up
I’ll get sir rocked/Ciroc in his coconut
You the type of nigga that I run up on
Tuck my hammers, then fold you up
Once these Hit, man, ya brother gon’ have to hold you up
So what’s up? Get everythin' from ya nose and up broken up
I’ll get sir rocked/Ciroc in his coconut
You the type of nigga that I run up on
Tuck my hammers, then fold you up
Once these Hit, man, ya brother gon’ have to hold you up
Get close enough then Dose you up, leave you swollen up
Put ya head through a wall while I got you in a Cobra clutch
I throw a punch, it’s like drinkin' liquor and usin' bread to soak it up
One will leave you learnin', the other will help you sober up
Hollow’s in this .45 make it fortified
Battle Rappers that you glorify, I have horrified
Nigga I will have ya life flashin’ right before ya eyes
Hit ya heart, lung and liver because I’m organized
SMACK know I ain’t playin' with these new bitches
Another body by Christmas? Nigga I’m too gifted
This nigga think he beatin' me? He must be too twisted
Or hittin’ trees like Paul Walker when the coupe drifted


[Round 2: JC]
I ain’t heard shit that gassed in my fuckin’ life
I’m sayin' you out yo mind nigga
Dome shots, now you layin' without yo mind nigga
You don’t think before you speak anyway, say it without yo mind nigga
You fuckin’ coked out ass battle rappers
Are payin’ for the wrong lines nigga
Cause see me, I’m that crazy one who figured how to mastermind a pen
Savage rhymes, craft in line nicer than the one Madeline was in
And they brought you to me, now usually you pay double
But you face trouble, ya’ll want us to clash
You ain’t even qualified to play Ruzzle, nobody runnin’ from you
Fuck, nobody watchin’ you, stop stoppin’ and start stoppin’ through
You a Guantanamo Bay prisoner, clearly behind the worst bars possible
And it’s fucked up cause the ass whoppin’s ain’t worth the views
Ya’ll know I ain’t do my research on dude
H,ow many flips yall heard me use not one
This spot done, you top gun put in a case full of pistols
My shots go straight out, you ain’t takin’ shit with you
Dome shot, they say it’s official, ouch
We skip the dots and hit the dots, sailors could fish you out
My type don’t mix with scouts
We can’t find you, we take the shit you can’t live without
Come find us, times up, get the shovel
He try to run he get tied up, busy schedule
I grip and lift the metal, that mag need toe tags, I’m gettin' several
Lead pop, bring that fast life to a dead stop
Scoop up dog quicker than Craig’s Pops
Red dots, those arms come out you goin' home, Red Foxx
Now you tell me is this an accurate statement
These niggas know what you about, you ain’t even half your rap
Nigga say if 500 people even cared you exist
Could be the biggest reach in battle rap
But I’m so much better than all you niggas
I try to push it through they mind I’m backpackin’
Mad stabber, leave them lyin’ with this bullet from
Nah, see lines like that, that’s okay
But it gets so gassed today that niggas like him survive
When he should be penalized for takin' half my space
Now it’s cause of you I’m on this stage I’m mad
See you the kind I’d shove, next time either find me a better opponent
Or let me be on it by myself
You not a general, bitch you expendable, bred for destruction
Dome shot, straight through, turn his head to a funyon
You wanna know what’s funny? I feel like I’m more at home than you
And this nifty spot, you wanna know what else?
I didn’t knock or pick the lock and bitch you missed the spot
Matter fact you might not even be the shooter
You probably got one of your homies to bust it for them
Well I got homies too and a few Benji’s will bend G
And it’ll be a whole lot of money foldin’
I told this muthafucker, I got long clips for the wrong sense
Long distance, if we 57, I’m raw with it
Them barrels bust like Diddy car hit it
I told this muthafucker, yo this is the end of the road for you
And it’s courtesy of me cause I ended the road for you
I killed everybody, even ended who wrote for you
But even If I lose I’m winnin’, even his iffy niggas known it
But I ain’t losin' tonight, you wanna promote this fight?
You better hope it’s a twitter where you goin’

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You gon’ pop lock then pop Roc? Ya’ll know he fakin’
If this was a dance battle then you would 3-0 me, no debatin’
Once I hit you with this 1, 2, step before ya soul gets taken
They’ll find his body out in Harlem with his shoulders shakin’
For salary I cause tragedies and leave casualties
Doc on top of you like he tryin’ to jump a battery
Battle me, shots for everybody in ya cavalry
I aim at you and trigger off my allergies
Him dyin’ ain’t a maybe, nigga I’m for certain
At his door like Wayne Brady when I rob a person
Deal or no deal, show me who’s behind the curtain
I’m tryin’ to murk him, I leave him in shock trauma hurtin’
Gun bar king my nigga, try and handle that
I dare him cough, he’ll get his mug where the handle at
Coffee, mug, handle, you should scramble Jack
JC will get an AK see how I scramble JACK
Now I’m movin’ upon him
One beam on each hammer, I’ll put two of them on him
One thing to do, I should’ve warned you
Shoot til ain’t a shell left over when I bought this aluminum for you
That’s light, I ain’t Chilla Jones but I plan to scheme
Banana Clip hangnin' out the damn machine
Steel clap that’ll peel back ya tangerine
You gotta tell ya circle “bounce,” trampoline
Pistol whip him when my hammer swing
I use my hammer like a hand, use his head like a tambourine
Tie up his Princess and his Queen
Start a fire after I soak him in kerosene and I don’t care who seen
Watch you disintegrate, get it straight
For every nigga that I eliminate, there’s one that I intimidate
You got no bars, you just imitate and manipulate
You ain’t a criminal, you incriminate
I’m really in the trap, you wanna participate?
Imagine me frontin’ this nigga weight and he don’t pay in time
He could lose his Mother for being a minute late
Meanin' get his clock clean like Justin Timberlake
When I heard Smack and Surf was bettin' on this I was hot then
They started this so imma show how the plot end
Surf got 2 racks on you nigga, you better not win
If I feel like ya’ll robbed me, then nigga imma rob him
Real rap, get jacked, that’s what a nigga bout
Surf been duckin’ me for years, how ya’ll give him clout
Here’s somethin' I’m tryin’ to figure out
How you bettin' 2 racks while sleepin’ on another nigga couch?
Fuck me? Fuck you two, I get at him, for this dickhead I keep a Magnum
But this shit platinum, I’m the tooth fairy
But he didn’t know if I’m a good one or a bad one
Cause imma place this nickel under his pillow and then I’ll clap him
That’s light, gun bar king, I catch this nigga here alone, I’m robbin’ him
My Basic Instinct like Sharon Stone, face shots when I air the chrome
Forensics lookin' like jewelers
They gotta identify him by his hair and bone
You gon’ beat me? Still niggas lyin’
Tell him like I tell the others, I don’t feel niggas rhymes
Who he foolin' with these steel grippin’ lines?
You fuckin’ with me? You gettin’ smacked, we on real nigga time

[Round 3: JC]
So uh, SMACK gave me one of the half fags from Team Ass Grab
To be 100% honest, them Yak niggas don’t get enough respect
Ya’ll remember that State Farm line I hit O Red with?
That proves I’m a fuckin’ threat
But this time I reach for the hip, am I airing? Roger
Nigga this count is a double check
Last time I saw you I told you, you could die
You could of got offered for a smaller offer, my niggas find him
He stretched, I’ll ride to the death Paul Walker
Somethin' ya’ll need to notice about these niggas
The higher they get, the worst they get, on every tier
Try to step in here, the straps we keep in here are like D implants
They firin’ everywhere
Where the fuck you gonna go? You in a place you can’t get out
Bitch with them little bars you can’t get loud with
Plus ya lame ass crew of hoes got Payless shoe soles, they give out quick
Don’t let these niggas gas you Roc, trust me
Don’t let these niggas play you
I mean the fat nigga do more gassin’ than Poppa Klump at the dinner table
But that’s cool, that’s ya boy, he gets shakes then
He’s ya best friend, he a yes man
But he gassin’ shit that don’t even make sense
You know what that is? That’s that fake shit
Lettin' you leave the house with them bars is a shame, dead true
But now it makes sense why you runnin’ the circle
It’s like you ate at a Gushers commercial, you a head fruit
And that fat nigga you be with, yeah you
You gon’ catch the head of yo man
Or I could switch the clips and leave him dead in yo hands
Either way it’s a steel body, Bicentennial Man
Or I can pay for the hit and have the first nigga ride by send 10 to yo man
You been gettin’ by way too long with that loud sound and that’s how every round sound
But them heaters on me and them round sounds
Gon’ be comin' from everywhere surround sound
You been gettin’ outbarred and outlined
Your squad got an image I would call for a witness
But you been in my soon-to-go shit list
So next time I get close to this nigga, my fist might be an emotional nigga
Get all in his feelings
Now niggas hit me with the shit that they feel is real, well try facts brother
I’m not a Vice Lord, my brothers are, so I eat with 12 like the Last Supper
But you should be a bus driver, cause you not a shooter
But my shooters aim, bust drivers
Get out of line, imma fuck you up one fast upper-cut, that’s that bus driver
You tapped out? Well I’m with that, see I got big straps that will get his six pack packed in six packs and gift wrapped
Merry Christmas, this a scary business, but we mismatch
So that nigga ya’ll think is off the leash
Imma break him off a piece, Kit Kat
Ya’ll think he nice? You wrong
You could of did more if ya life was wrong, but tonight you gone
He don’t mean that shit, but ya’ll believe that shit so his pride is strong
But I go through his shit, right to bone
When Cavemen get caved in, they feel right at home
We got robbed, then got Roc, it’s a fast life
They tried to save him, ask Christ, it’s gon’ be a fast night
Now listen, it’s gates up there
And the only way to get a spot when they open
Is to follow yo slogan, “That’s light”
Get the fuck off my stage, nigga this my shit