a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de pops vs james rap battle #2 (prod. morr1ss) - darryl mayes

[verse 1: big jame$]
last time that we spoke, it was smoke in the air
and everybody said you won, but i don’t like that there (i don’t like that)
cause big jame$, he a beast, and he don’t take no l’s (h-ll naw!)
so now i’m back and i’m better and it’s so unfair (yuh!)
the way i’m bout to drag your old ass across this beat
it might just raise your blood sugar, cause i’m just too sweet
should be illegal for a man to posses this much heat
i’m just too neat, cause big jame$ the real og
big p.o.p can’t see me on the m-i-c, your rhymes too weak
i’ll drop kick you in your knees
and watch your old ass fold up, like a old bed sheet
i’m from the streets bruh, i’ll hit you in yo e-y-e (baow!)

[verse 1: pops]
now who the h-ll you say you hitting in the e-y-e?
it won’t be me, i put that on g-o-d
cause if you trynna s-w-i-n-g on me
you might just mess around and have to need an emt
boy i’m surprised you still rapping, after last time what happened
when i snapped on the beat and wiped your ass like a napkin
dammit, maybe you forgot, but boy i been about that action
i could hit you one time, you gone be speaking in captions (baow, baow)
whether fighting on the mic, i’m a certified steppa
i taught 21 to be a savage, call me professor (21, aye)
been an og in these streets for so long, feel like forever
before your ass was even thought of, i was here, applying pressure (woo!)
when i step out, the clouds open up like a window
if you put me on a beat, imma eat like it’s dinner (eat it up!)
i keep a belt on my hip, it cuts you up like a splinter (brrrah!)
your new name little debbie cause your soft in the middle (soft ass!)

[verse 2: big jame$]
hold up, big jame$, on god, no cap, straight up
now i’m really about to get on your head
cause everybody know the truth, and why you act like you do
on the inside, you really just a lonely old man!
that’s always why you mad all the time (for real)
ain’t got nothing else to do but whoop ass and do crimes (on god!)
you getting old, you already going blind
you gon try to swing that belt and put a crack in your spine
hey pops-saurus, that’s your new name (ha!)
and if they ask, pre-historic, that’s your new age (hahaha!)
i might just kick you in the head with my flu games
you sweet just like kool-aid, you must forgot i’m big jame$!
i been the realist on the mic since i came out the womb
me and you on any beat, i sweep you up like a broom
i ain’t darryl!, you can’t whoop me and just lock me in the room (h-ll nah!)
put your hands on me, it’s gone be a bad afternoon (please try me!)
you say you og in these streets, more like pappy (more like pappy)
cause og for you is old ass granddaddy (old ass!)
matter of fact, i ain’t gone lie, i’m surprised you still rapping (for real!)
cause round about this time, people your age be napping!

[verse 2: pops]
there he go, no surprise, talking about my age again
and best believe i ain’t lonely, i got a bunch of lady friends!
they in a box, up under my bed, and got buckles on the end
you got beef, well i got heat, so let’s make smoke up in here then!
last night, i stayed up late with your mama on the phone (with ya mama!)
and let me tell you, she ain’t worried about these old ass bones (h-ll no!)
if everything go right, a lil drip, a lil cologne (chirp, chirp)
she might just mess around and bring you a stepfather home (on god)
i’m the p.o.p.s, i don’t do no b.s, too much bass in your chess
just like nike, you get checked!
lil boy trynna flex, but i’m not too impressed (d-mn)
that’s why that fake ass chain leaving green on your neck
how you call yourself a rapper and ain’t n0body heard of ya? (who you is?)
thinking you can step to me, boy that’s very absurd of ya (lil stupid)
you gon kick me in the head, boy ain’t n0body scared of ya! (h-ll naw)
you come over here and try, so i can knock the words right out of ya (baow)
og, that’s me, p.o.p on g-o-d, it’s going up like cardi b (woo!)
i’m big dog and you a flea! the disrespect, i’m tried of it
you must not really know about me (he must not!)
i’m known for giving out them ass whoopings, call me mr. beast
i’m spitting fire on this beat and you just out here making noise
boy i’m grown, you a youngin’, you still probably play with toys (go somewhere!)
if i was you, talking junk would be something that i’d avoid
cause i could easily make your mama mrs. mayes, lil boy!

- darryl mayes

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS