Morgana

[Round 1: Gattas] What up Blood?! What up cuz!? What up Blood? What up gangsta? I see you C Walking 'round like you got an S on ya chest I hope I catch you lackin' in the parkin' lot without a vest on ya chest Cause you battled a few women but in the booth I'm a different type Laser beam, make you lose ya Vision, if I lift it right The K can fuck up a small village, I ain't finna fight I'll just bring him down to his lowest (Lois) and show y'all a dead Crip tonight (kryptonite) I'll put this nigga underground forever, I swear this Tre The Truth And I'm like Dashiki I bought .223s and a baby too And fuck ya BM, I'll have shots lick her (liquor) if you bring ya lady through And you know I keep a pistol I hope Rum is .380 proof You do all this talkin' shit when you not legit Act Nutty and ya Blocc get hit When it come to the bodies I get 'em taken care of, I'm on top of it And fuck a color, I done blew (blue) Blood's top back, any op'll sit (opposite) It's .44 bulls and black hawks, I'm from the same city I've been winnin', Ben Simmons, now you seein' why you can't play wit' me Guard ya top before you get a scar face, the .40 and the blade wit' me And you ain't the only Crip I'll cap on (Al Capone), just to be Frank, Nitty I'm from the 'Raq, where the switch attachment is a key design and all my niggas supplyin' 350 (three .50's) and not the Yeezy kind I really can beat Rum when I ain't even tryin' Remy sent the contract, I said, "This a Lil' Flip, an easy sign" And you don't even rhyme, you need to find somethin' to implement Wavin' ya arms tryin' to circle ya opponent with that spinnin' shit Took you light years (Lightyear) to get a Buzz you wasn't meant for this So I'ma dent ya shit, then hold the .38 sideways, I got in for Nit' (infinite) I'm overpowering all the gas, I'm high octane I'll up it and dump it for nothin', I will not change Try to weave through these bullets and die, get ya top stained This remind me of Danny Myers Cause first you was dead beat, then my sister started pole swingin', then finally the pop came Nick Cannon with the sticks, I'm not playin' If it jam you can get beat with the drum, big watch, this a block chain Why you think I'm keepin' a gun? And with a knife I'll slice across this cord (discord) and from ya cheek through the gums I don't know what they token (talkin'), but y'all can tell I'm etherin' Rum And I'ma leave this Crip toe tagged just so you know it's me Oh you bang blue? Well I'ma cook with .44 mags and I'll open see (C) I'll get him all whacked for a clean rack, make his set dip, and I Really Mean that I'm ridin' six deep now where ya team at? Seven .45's to his top in the whip like Remy in 'Lean Back' Yo, he thought Gattas was Everclear His one shot to get lit quick (liquid) What he didn't expect was me to talk big shit, 'bout how he runs with a bitch clique I can see errors in Every Fuccin' Bar that Nit' pick (nitpick) Nigga you love my style You really a fan now If I extend an arm it ain't a handshake or hand out I'll have Rum runnin' through Brooklyn screamin' "Man down!" He'll see a bitch wit' a big dick and a stick, he think I'm trans now Get ya bars up bitch nigga [Round 1: Rum Nitty] Aight, look, look, look I ain't gon' lie, I'm a lil' mad Cause the audio real bad They fixed yo' shit, got it clear, you was still trash We got Rum muthafuckin' Nitty vs.... Young Gattas AKA Charisma Johnson Off the rip this he/she dyin' A clean sweep, a three-peat, I got the cheat sheet rhymin' They say, "The Alien be sittin' on bars like E.T. ridin'" This bitch you lookin' at is dead Said she don't take no type of dick, just eat the pussy out instead You get a slug in ya temple, it ain't no pullin' out the lead It's hard to believe Gat' don't ever get cock when it's a bullet in the head YEEEAH New York City, I'm finally back in the buildin' The last time I performed out here I was still movin' my arms like that when I spit it I had no personality when I was rappin' my nigga The perfect one to catch you lackin' Charisma Get injured I'ma shoot this old Ludacris in the face, goofy, tall ass, hoopin' bitch A movin' Crip, I'm not cappin' Glock clappin' Sit a bitch down wit' a round, like Lamaze classes Make a broad vanish, this stud'll (studder) disappear soon as I start rappin' like Eazy The Block Captain Y'all cappin', actin' like she won't catch a hollow If I said it, why would I ever lie though? So I gotta shoot Gat', in that case, like Desperado You finna die slow, you don't want no smoke Why you even got Young in the buildin'? This for grown folks That Mr. & Mrs. Smith shit? Was a no no Cause this bitch like 6'4" We could never be datin' Rem' (Dayton Rim), not even on the low low But I love Hustle fo' sho' though But why would you put me in here with her This shit is berserk You could've gave me a pretty bitch, with gun bars, cause there's a lot of steel in my verse (stealing MyVerse) You know my type writin' This? I don't like it, I'm not excited They gon' say I stole this dyke man like Quilly and Surf Get murked It's an infrared on it when I raised those And the dot, exactly where the bullet point, take notes Game over Case closed, you gotta be more strategic, the pole I squeeze it I might show up to where you stay and take the top off of ya old Bay (obey), it's open season The detectives can't find ya body for a reason People can't remember the last time they seen you Young, like Morgan Freeman Don't believe it? 'Til this bitch layin' in the street This .380 I squeeze BAOW! I'll put Johnson on her back, like, "Baby you sleep?" Stop playin' wit' me, I'm in a hurry to see you shot I'm eager to see you drop So I'ma shoot this bitch on the double Rem' (rim), it won't be an easy shot Off top, you know I'ma shoot Thought I pulled up to the wrong event, I had a chrome .22 Fuck it do? Aye, they don't pay attention to nothin' that a brother say Cause I said I wanted to battle somebody that look like [?] Y'all went and got me Young M.A We could've booked this shit last month I would've battled Young in May You'll never get the same look again, we on double take It's over! Rap! [Round 2: Young Gattas] Ayo Rum, I promised I was not gonna mention this But you a broke, 30 year old gang bangin' dad, nigga Stop with the senselessness I know you gotta be sufferin' from cognitive dissonance and a lot of this tension is Just bottled up instances of when Cornell was coddled and sensitive With a lack of positive images while his options were limited Now you seeking validation from a squadron of idiots Reppin' a gang not even knowin' how to properly benefit So tell me now, what happens when an op' get offended then Leaves all ya kids as fatherless children And all you got left to give 'em is nothin' more than a pot just to piss in it And this the bullshit y'all callin' a syndicate? That ain't gangsta What's gangsta is a fuckin' trust fund What's gangsta? Doin' it by yaself without a gang cause you trust none What's gangsta? Bein' alive to see ya kids off to college Droppin' gems on ya kid to give 'em infinite knowledge Not glorifying how you live in the projects With no idea of how you gon' get 'em up out it See, this real talk you can't get from a triple entendre This ain't a fuckin' metaphor about how my kicks are designer I'm talkin' for a culture as a whole, we ain't proud a (Prada) ya soul (sole) You a runner It don't matter how much you Balenciaga ya clothes You still a coward as a man and a lot of us know You won 150K with Geechi, then ya bitch asses split the shit And let me guess, you took it to the hood and bought some sticks and kicks Never thought twice about ya kids and bitch cause you'd rather rep a fuckin' flag than be a fuckin' dad How you explain walkin' 'round with skinny jeans and a Glock in ya waist To take pictures for IG and direct the ops to ya place I know I would come shoot rounds at ya clubhouse Like fuck a tre and shoot a Hawk in ya face Cause this ain't Twitter but I'm a big speaker, I ain't come to talk in ya Space We let you cap on this stage hella times and let it slide, like you holdin' Berettas high Cornell, this gang culture got you hypnotized We can tell in ya eyes ya terrified That internet persona you really should set aside Cause if you really blew (blue) checks in the hood then you'd be verified Not still tellin' lies, 'bout how you totin' .4s I had to teach you how to be a gentleman Nitty, first you gotta open doors And don't talk to me 'bout struggle cause I been through it Enough to see ya dependency on the clique Rum, you under the influence And, you look like you 'bout to overdose And like you stole befo' Cornell Powell, you really just a local loc You 5'5", 100 pounds, ain't nobody runnin' from you And how the fuck is ya big homie younger than you? You still searchin' for acceptance or just somethin' to do? Ya old ass out every weekend, with the Drac And ya big homie lovin' the crew Cause you pussy, you pussy, with no heart, couldn't stand in a fight And now you here, being taught how to be a man from a dyke Get ya bars up bitch! [Round 2: Rum Nitty] "Yo' gang should do that. Yo' gang should do this." Blah, blah, blah, [?] the bullshit They said, I had on a beanie with a three-piece Oh y'all jokin' huh? Well it's true, I did have a hat on with a suit My nigga Papoose know what's up, I'll shoot you first when I unload the gun Clip her, then shoot one of Young's sisters, I owed her one You done This the fun part, y'all remember on Juice when Steel was gettin' dressed in the mornin'? With the candy? Don't front y'all {Rum starts beat boxing} Well you can get beat, with one bar Who want war? You can act like a man all you like to It's plenty broads just like you But in every 30 days God reminds you Spiteful, it don't make sense I remember when she stopped dressin' like one of the bros and shit I said, "Okay, okay, she fo' sho' take dick." Then Hart (heart) attacked you, looked like you never had a stroke again When know this shit It's a tragedy, instead of walkin' like a man and shit, can you picture Gat' with a switch? Then she just changed, automatically? You can't rap wit' me I'm killin' this bitch Don't you hate when they ask for identification when you just tryin' to get some liquor real quick? Meanin' in you even look Young, I'll pull ya card then give you the fifth They got the idea (ID ya), you finna die fo' sho' Hands down, Rum shot a bitch in the mouth I made her drive the boat, don't try the loc You'll get dogged on play On my Crippin', I got time today Buck 50, go all 'cross ya face You get the razor (raise a) Gat', for no reason like John John wit' Ace You outta place You been doin' a whole lot of dyin' bitch It's like Hustle took you apart and ain't no how to put back inside the pin Cause yo' rounds ain't been fire since It just clicked I'm furious You can't be serious I'ma have Gat' starin' at a gat, it's an out of body experience I don't care if you a female you will get it The stick like Kenzo B and [?] it drill bitches But listen, you can bring up the Swamp battle, I ain't even mad gang Go 'head, let son (sun) shine, why I'ma lie though (mulato) Go 'head, get yo' cash (Kaash), Paige But you? Can't hang You think I'ma let a bitch stop me? Bitch stop it I'll pull out a 'Big Poppa' before I ever let her son like Chris Wallace I been wildin' That's just life You say you possess the skills, you ain't half as nice The whole world don't think you got it, Ms. Johnson, like Magic wife That's goodnight I know you can't stand it, but what do that matter? Whatchu gon' do? Rap faster? They say, "Gat' in her bag." I say, "She better run", like Santana Hand cannon, this bitch'll die, we really slide My moms gave birth to a gunner, she really had a shooter in her stomach like Remy Ma One slip you die 100 out the weapon dump, that's hella slugs Shit spit faster than, Jigga who? And it last forever Young You can't tell me none And you can't keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I'll do the job [Round 3: Young Gattas] I said, pass me the .40 you know I'll load that Remy the stylist but I'm the one that'll air rows and get you a toe tag pussy Cause you a bitch, you a bitch Nitty You prolly got ya fuckin' tubes tied I don't even fuck wit' Rum, I'd rather let this half moon shine Me and my niggas old fashion, we'll still spray ya crib up Kidnap for ransom, I might (maitai) ya kids up I saw you in Manhattan, switchin' in the village And I'm supposed to believe y'all drop cells? Y'all niggas gay I bet when Rum open up all he'll pour out is cock tails (cocktails) You prolly thought I was comin' wit' a ton of jokes But this fast cash, no gas mask, I want the smoke A Warrior with the 30's, I'm Curry cookin', I'm the fuckin' GOAT And we know you snortin' lines, but when it comes to bars, we used to seein' Rum and coke Plus you a snitch, you deserve to get a hollow The First 48 type, tell on everybody to get McDonalds Get immunity, now he feel like he hit the lotto But you a snake, Rum you'll turn on ya circle like Spin The Bottle Now you got a fifth pointed at you, bitch, spit or swallow Or I'll grab the .47 cause I'm like Kanye My old K look good but today I got a different model You and the niggas you wit', all trash Gettin' you mopped was a small task And wait, I said that wrong, cause I still feel like Kanye But I be posted with the K across the street on the car dash (Kardash') And we know you worked at Wal-Mart, but we more alike than you think Let me tell you about my character, I'll slide with the plastic too, I'm stamped with the machine Now let that register Red light 'em and bag him, throwin' hollow tips out the old strap Then slide again the same night, that's a rollback And I'ma catch you slippin' cause ya whole squad seem greasy I'll even serve Rum shots in the back like a speakeasy And you from Phoenix? I'll get you fucked up before the full clip enter Put hands and feet to his chest, give him a footprint center And this .40 a cougar, it's an older ratchet wit' a better grip Even my hoes will make the weapon spit You don't wanna see what's in my bitch's possession like The Exorcist The only thing I know for certain, is in the future I can see death in it (definite) Guns or bars, either way I brought extra rounds Beam on, I'ma make this a point (disappoint) before I let you down We can battle in London but you shouldn't bring ya bitch around Let something violent occur and see ya mate will get the pound Banana clips in this one piece and I still got a long reach I'll put extendos in C (sea) side, turn this bitch to Long Beach Cause I don't give a fuck now, we all up clips and dump rounds I'll shoot over blue face (Blueface), you 'bout to see me bust down ('Bussdown') Cause this the last thread, I got no patience You can get stitches or you can get switches, I keep a pole waitin' So when machines spray that's the foes playin' And we still scrap, I'll hit Nit' with a hook like I'm crocheting Get ya bars up bitch nigga! [Round 3: Rum Nitty] You dyin' bitch I'll send my shooter to give you headshots when he fire sticks But what he should do is put a bullet right through the eye in sis' I insist I'm like 5'5" - 5'6" But my ID say I'm 5'8" There ain't even no punchline or bar with that my nigga, just know I'm 5'8" .9 raise Or bitch get laid with the .50, I'm in a [?] Why hate? You think I'm playin' family? Chance it, I'll make this bitch bust anywhere like vibratin' panties It come in handy After this, ya parents, finna prolly hate you And it ain't gon' be no more hangin' wit' the Rem' (rim), that's NBA rules What made you, bring a red flag to the face off? Like that's how you really rock it I got street bitches that's with the drama Lady Crips that get to slidin' A few Disciples, a few P(ee) stones will pop out like a kidney problem Face shot, split ya noggin' Straight through the forehead, shit was shockin' Family in disbelieve when they look in the coffin Cause they can't tell if it's Young or not like Andy Milonakis Aye, when this bitch be rhymin', it be a bunch of extra pacin' Miscellaneous words like "depravation", "devastation", "neck abrasions" I can't stand you RhymeZone.com rappin' muthafuckas, how did you ever make it? I can tell you fakin' You not foolin' me, I done passed every level that you think you can reach Knock ya face off if I pull the heat So I don't think Young gonna (Gunna) have a feature in the Future, 'Pushin P' When I found out ya name was Charisma Johnson I said, "Aw, nah, nah this cannot be true." That mean, when they call you by yo' last name they say, "Ms. (miss) Johnson!" And she probably do Dawg a fool I'm cookin', and all this cool Long as a man kill you like Islamic food Let me talk to dude If you stop disappearin', maybe you'll get mentioned some You ain't had a million hits before, you gotta put in work a lil' more Cause tryin' to get to an M a chore (immature), but you ain't tryin' to listen Young This ain't what they want You better not ever play Real shit, and I don't punch bitches to set the record straight No cap! But I will backhand Gat' like Kevin Gates FN spray This whole section'll (sectional) move outta do', I'm tryin' to redecorate But wait, you really think this bitch'll grab a .40 and smoke me? You trippin' You fo' sho' ain't a killer Stop The only way Young'll pop is Don't Be A Menace You get too close I'ma lift it, bang the heat Keep thinkin' this shit is make believe 'til I squeeze a round in ya bitch ass like an anal bead Goodnight Goodnight