Rum Nitty vs. Big T lyrics



[Round 1: Rum Nitty]
This gon' get ruthless
We got Rum muthaf*ckin' Nitty vs Big T
AKA Big Tuna
This sh*t's stupid
But you can't tell him nothin', I'm finna bury cousin
Pull up, broad day on him, somethin' heavy clutchin'
Beretta bustin'
Pull a mil' (meal) out the box with the glove on
You gonna have to give Tuna help or (Helper) somethin'
We can't stand the way you rap
Go 'head, tell 'em world
Nah, let me bring that point back
I'm not feelin' your delivery; epidural
Let it air, I give a f*ck if the cops watch me, I'm not stoppin'
Torture, leave a Thousand Corpses; Rob Zombie
Drop bodies, whole squad grimy
A cold n*gga, I lick a (liquor) shot in T(ea), it's a hot toddy
Do not try me
It'll be a hostile moment, Gun Line King for real for real, cause I pop opponents
Chopper loaded, go 'head drive up on this
We doin' drills, tools out, I hit Tuna's (tune a) car up, put these auto's on (Auto Zone) it
You ain't finna body no one
Your career goin' underneath
And you used NWX just for clout, you'se a f*ckin' leach
You supposed to keep the structure together, not just up and leave
He ain't understand what stayin' in form meant (informant), and that's why you're (wire) goin' under T(ee)
Don't f*ck wit' me, it's way different
Big ass Sig Sauer, the bench warmer, don't play n*gga
Thang kickin', you gon' take three .9's like he got away wit' it...but he didn't get away wit' it
We wreck (Rex) sh*t off the chain n*gga
Aye listen, you ain't kick no dirt
And you prolly get off some decent material if you don't choke first
On any stage I go work
But this setting fo' sho' worse
So you, gon' die in a small room clear, I'm Joe Goldberg
The pole burst, you knew what I was 'bout
Ruthless, what you gon' do when I bring shooters to ya house?
Ruger to ya scalp
Silencer, I point and air (ear), take this Tuna (tune a) n*gga out
Big .9 clap, we can go eye for eye
You take one of mine, I'm gon' get right back
Your sh*t type wack
It's a difference when I spit my raps
Like I pull off the belt, put you in a box
When I slide through the machine kicks off
You think T'll say (TSA) some sh*t like that?
Kill yaself
[Round 1: Big T]
Let me understand you somethin'
If you like a bar and you a fan of somethin'
I don't want a hand or nothin'
I don't want you to give me a hand or nothin'
I don't want you to nod ya head or nothin'
You my mans and everything
But for the next three rounds, you ain't my man or nothin'
He the Gun Line King, I ain't tryin' to fall for anything
I brought a stand for somethin'
And that's how Big Terrance comin'
They said, "Come prepared"
Oooh, but why would I be unprepared? You know, this a small room
Jamaican restaurants, we know the menu's and how Rum punch in (punchin') there
And the crowd wooooo's like a hand slap from Ric Flair
Bro when nothin' there, nothin' backed it, drum kit chair
Y'all 'bout to get Nitty beat, drum, kick, snare
Grandma sweater, one wheelchair, two sticks, I'm puttin' holes in somethin' (k)Nit' wear
It ain't quite the old Big T but it's gettin' there
They want me to punch of the fourth, I snuck Rum in the fifth, prohibition era
Yo, why you actin' like you grippin', set trippin' when you livin' up in the trife slum when from Arizona
Yeah, you got mo' heat tho' (mojito) but the majority of yo' people where you livin' is white Rum
I'm just sayin', you goin' against a seasoned vet
Tell 'em, "Add some spice Rum"
What I meant (mint) leave tell ya guys "go"
It'll be nothin' but Rum left if I let these (D's) out my drums
What happens when you DS, it'll be nothin' but "Rum" left
Y'all got that?
Cool, job well done
We took cheap shots cause you worked at Wal-Mart
You can never reach the top shelf Rum
You Arizona, Scottsdale bum
Style on him
You see T gettin' a fifth of Rum, you know get to Rum, rippin' Rum, grippin' Rum
Just like a liquor run
Unload, reload, unload, reload, put the clip to Rum, get the drum like a b*tches bum ba-lit-tit-tum
Switchin' 'em like a b*tches bum, bum-chicka-bum
Or a razorblade thick as um, stick of gum
Bic'in' 'em
Razorblade it's as big as um, thick as a stick of gum
Pokémon, liquor tongue, in a pocket, Digimon
Ah man he said he's gon' M.O.P. yo' aunite ('Ante) Up'
I got a blade that'll switch yo' auntie up, I'm Aunt Vivian!
[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
Aye, you used to be that n*gga back in the day
We had to honor it
I'm talkin' stats, accomplishments, you was dominant
So this can be your big get back, I promise it
So no stumblin', rap wit' confidence
Don't be chokin', you can't afford to (two) Jersey, you not Jackie Robinson
Okay that's it, I came equipped
K's and clips, gauges, fifths
Put on a whole gun show, this the main event
Who you playin' wit'?
Talkin' ruthless like you a shooter 'til I pull out this auto tuner (Tuna'll) change his pitch
Used to be the one now you slippin', a whole bum
Career done, stuck in position
But you asked for this one cause he trippin'
They just want to hear me put they names in a verse, it's 'What These b*tches Want' from a n*gga
I'm the cheat code
Said I ran out of punches, I don't think so
You thought I was done?
But you can clearly see Rum got some mo' heat tho' (mojito)
You 'bout to get all the smoke
And take so many punches, the fans yellin' "get off the ropes"
We wild up the team, go wild with the thing
Boo Blacka his sh*t, grrrrrt, baow with the stick
Let you down on the strip, wild up the team, lift the cal' up and squeeze
Do a chilacka boo impersonation perfect...I got it down to a T
Aye, aye, I pull up on the scene smokin'
Bring over heat (overheat), pop up in ya hood, and T(anti) freeze on 'em
The peace blowin', it don't stop it keep goin'
Mini Drac's, the baby chopper come out on T and (teeth) and ring on 'em
I be with demons, whole clique schemin'
You gon' make me reach and dot somethin', the inf' beamin'
Do a b*tch greasy, Nina, Hurricane Katrina, this sh*t'll get rid of Big Easy
On CG, I'm not a n*gga you can reason wit'
Try me, and I'm on-site squeezin' sh*t
Let it blow necks, when I grab the Nina and finger it
But y'all just f*ckin' around for(e) play, n*gga T's (tease) a b*tch
But it's no sympathy for enemies
Little heat, keep it covered up like the Middle East
Lemon squeeze
Somebody gotta go, so this ring more than it's supposed to, it's either gon' be Big or me (bigamy)
Kill yaself
[Round 2: Big T]
Mr. Chilakaboo
What is it?
I ain't even gon' lie, it's some big sh*t
I couldn't even risk it
I got a gun so big if I lift it...right now, income tax season
I need a Big b*tch to get it
Look, Rum told me, he gon' dress T(ee) up like a first day of school outfit
Did you really match the hat? Cause where was the cap?
Cause you never had to do that sh*t
Yeah, I believe that you'll shoot that sh*t
And you went to school and sh*t
But what n*gga you know with a new ass, cool ass fit at the bottom of it, put some fake ass, foo foo ass kicks?
Big heater, Surf, Ars', Suge, I'm a Crip (crypt) keeper
Nah, let's talk about how them big sneakers look like it came with a gas station water and a big Snicker
I mean, you didn't even have the six ringers?
The Mexican Mikes?
You couldn't get them b*tch neither?
Mike (mic) wasn't on there, you a lip syncer?
They went from the Bloque to block like it's Jenga
Suicide, do the job and kill yaself, Bobbie and Christina
n*gga, I'll get at yo' crew for showin' ya crew love
Chilakaboo your boo for showin' ya boo love
n*gga, you be in your Mankind to be in an Arizona Cactus Jack before you let T die, I ain't showin' no Dude Love
Before he fold he (Foley) got a few slugs
Arms around everybody
By the time he (Tommy) cold (Cole) I'm bringin' pain (Paine) in his circle, I'm like Martin up in the group hug
When he grab Tommy, Cole in the circle and do group hug
Yo, big somethin'
When I see 'em in the mall, it's goin' down
Nah, I'm Yung Joc now and no matter where I'm at in my career, I'll still lift somethin'
A big somethin'
It look like a 100 on that baby; Benjamin Button
Click button, they tried to capitalize on T, I hit the "shift" button
Switch buttons, came back around like I forgot to get somethin'
Oh, y'all angry f*ckin' bars, go back to the bar and get somethin'
Bacardi Long Island, Rum gon' get shot popped in everything
Tried to iced T(ea) still fifth dumpin'
b*tch, what?
Man, go 'head, get someone
Get a bunch of n*ggas
I don't care if you bring muscle builders
n*gga we flippers, we Jesse White tumble n*ggas
Go and swing, there's a couple wit' us
Big thumpers wit' us
If you think you gon' get somethin' off of (Office) like Dunder Mifflin
Those mechanical punches stalls yo' muthaf*ckin' engine
BOP! BOP! Look like you got a bad muffler in it

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
Free Gunsmoke
I tell a n*gga be 'bout me
All gun lines, every chance I get I'ma speak my piece (peace)
But before I pull the heat out, peep
I'ma wash you, with both hands first, then I'ma let it ring out T(ee)
If a n*gga try me then he through
I let you choose, whatchu want? .9 or .22?
Line it up and shoot
Suppressor, make it buck silent, I'm reppin' Quiet Money too
You gotta die, all kinda .9's
More heat, some of the sh*t I brought for T (four tee) toddler size
Chopper fly
You know we creep, roll three deep
Pull out the mop for everything, I'm O.C.D
Aye, f*ck the other side, I'll make 'em hold this heat
Yeah you know me, it's in my Nature to put down an 'O.P.P.'
Get fired on, it's the type of sh*t my whole side on
Bullets go through ya temple now ya mind gone
.9 blow, your friends is gettin' shot, I'm puttin' Quiet n*ggas in a box, it's a mime show
Still trippin', get on some personal sh*t and you will get it
Say a disrespectful line, I'll knock out a 2 for 1, that's how I deal wit'
Kill switch 'em, you gon' make me up the TEC
Chilakaboo the whole clip 'til it's nothin' left
You ask for this like you wanted wreck
Well since you came after the 4th Quarter, I owe (O)T a sudden death
Aye, but if he hidin', we get the location
We find him
Pull up with a Hawk
Robbin' (Robin) inside of T house, it's a Teen Titan
He dyin', it's gun talk
Load it up, let one off, put a round over T
Now your round over T, look like an Ankh cross
War Machine
My n*gga Will killed you, you should've left Ill alone; quarantine
Pull up on the scene
You better call for God if you see us hangin' outside the buildin'
Give the Lord a ring (loitering)
You can't keep it real yourself

[Round 3: Big T]
You too soft
Keep playin' game, n*ggas will knock your roof off
It's gon' be a sad song for whoever this elf Nit' wit' like Rudolph
Y'all ain't heard it?
I am not just a nitwit, oh that song too soft
Y'all act like y'all ain't seen that like the battle with Rex, you versus Snoop Dogg
Y'all act like y'all ain't seen that verse Rex, with the sh*t and you verse Rex with Rum and Snoop Dogg
That n*gga drug Rum so bad, Bill Cosby saw it and got a new charge
What I look like to you? A goofball?
I don't care if you was a no name, soon as Rum pull steel, skin (Rumpelstiltskin) smooth off
That's how I do dawg
Look, I put Jakk in a Box now these n*gga's head sprung
Pistol to ya head, BONG! Ya head gone
People in the next three houses down lost their eardrum
I don't care what set you said you from n*gga you dead son
BAOW! A lie for ya Crip
Do a murder you flip, your shirt red Rum (redrum)
Whoever find Big T gon' get a finders fee
Ever since BIG n*gga it never been a big n*gga wild as me
n*gga, let's be Frank, Nitty you're not Untouchable
There's not a hitman from the Chi like me
That whole even back-to-back round scheme
You don't even come off as a west coast guy to me
Your whole style is in (N) NY, that's where you'll find it T
Look in NY, you'll find "it T", spell "Nitty" name
Nobody came up with that style but me
Let's go back to style
See 'em all, it's goin' down
Know in general, they arm me (Army) with somethin' that'll hit ya cold then PAOW
Colin Powell, not to mention your name's Cornell Powell
Enough with the government name, associates with your government name
Let me f*ck Rum flips, let get "Cornell" now
Everybody think Cornell now, okay I'ma get Cornell now
I came across training, hit his stomach, get core nailed down
n*gga, I cross training to cross his circle to get Cor' nailed down
n*gga, ever since the battle with me and Geechi came out
He said he's gon' stitch T(ee) like an embroidery shop
The Glock on my side, red dot on my eye
Watch where you look, corner ya shot
Find Cor' up on the corner, you better move fast Cor' ya drop
.44 ya pop
Look from ya eye cornea pop
Would you muthaf*ckas stop?
Man, I'm tired of hearin' all this hippity hoopla and how ya clip go blipity blew blah
I just dippity do dah, blah, coroner go zippity do dah
n*gga talkin' 'bout Nitty, it's five on me and it ain't no new car n*gga
I blew (blue) off like Snoop Dogg
Bro, I blew off like a new car
Bro, I blew off like a b*tch with a boob job
I blew off like
Quiet n*gga
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