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letra de arsonal vs. real sikh - urltv

[round 1: real sikh]
these guys who top vets be tryna not prep
he wouldn’t sign the dot unless the rounds was two minutes and thirty seconds but i ain’t shocked yet
’cause usually, when people hear the news they got sikh, they start to worry how much time they got left
two minutes and thirty—?
that’s tournament rule-worthy
this ‘pposed to be who the dopest in new jersey
you seen my last 3–0? yeah, at nome, i did dude dirty
so time limit or not, i’m goin’ for two thirties
this ain’t no sorta gimmick
my scripture says i gotta stay armed
i only started grippin’ whеn i got more religious
hit ya family first, muzzle on thе can i burst
it’s fire but it can’t be heard… like danny’s third!
it’s classic as a golden era tape
you nowhere near as safe
that’s a story that my forty never ate
on a stretcher while ya dome’ll marinate
said, “bring arsonal outside.” now, he’s in a open carry state
i’ma flip on this b-tch and switch into this
(that’s only sixty seconds.) i’m gettin’ real sick-a this sh-t!
to murder him, i get close wit’ a burner then i tip-toe
i could pass any magazine that’s perfect if i miss, though
i’m learnin’ what the clip hold
while he worried ’bout two thirties, i’m tryna see the perks of an extendo
hand-a god, i’m beast mode
get a panasonic camera on another catastrophic danny myers 3–0
plan a call and he smoked
i could get arsonal by diallin’ a number like a grand theft auto cheat code
make it do what it do
losin’ my cool
let it loose when i shoot at a roof and get a medulla removed
cruisin’ through ya crew by usin’ tools i used in my youth
bullets like ya first language: they flew into you
who you be?
zab judah: move’s too clean
got cuckoo speed
that’s doot-doot, boom-boom-bink
a deuce-deuce weak
i was told, in life, you gotta pull ya own weight so i use two two-threes
i got time
drive-by, cha cha slide
shout to red; i got that [?]
k!ll him on the turnpike and do a [?]-nine-five
freestyle ’bout him dyin’ on the i-95
“hahaha!”
laughin’ and— (f-ck, i got thirty sec—?)
laughinbutgettinmadatoneathewackesta— nah, i’m playin’
laughin’ but gettin’ mad at one-a the wackest-a legends
i’m packin’ a metal to have him dead and be clappin’ the lead at the back of his head
that get ejected
you saw his brain like {snaps his fingers} this; that’s a matter-a seconds
them racist terrorist raps is nothin’
f-ck is arsonal to weapons-a mass destruction?
hundred… guns get… pulled and it’s tragic
you battled the old hollow wit’ the coat? i got a full metal jacket!
jersey!
[round 1: arsonal]
once again, i’m here; same n-gga from my league tried me
catch the body, sever the head—you know, team homi
this, you never seen like a clean zombie
my gun work; who said it ain’t got no job? i make y’all believe tommy
you grew up on arsonal, you was watchin’ me wit’ mom
you resurrected after yo’ last call into the grave, n-gga; that gotta be a sign
i know ya lifestyle different, n-gga; it’s a lotta poverty in mine
i know your people: y’all mob deep causin’ havoc but you ain’t no prodigy-a mine
embrace who you are, vlade divac; you ain’t gotta be lebron
you know what f-cked up my era? they ain’t try to see us shine
this lil’ policy-a mine is a hi— {bumps arm on real sikh} (my fault.)
me sayin’, “my fault.” is takin’ the blame, not no apology-a mine
just know i did that and i take full responsibility for it
let’s see if every action got a reaction and if you really r-t-rded
n-gga, you left yo’ strap home; you really a norbit
for some reason, tonight, yo’ lines just ain’t connectin’; yo’ sh-t really distorted
you know, the faster you run, the slower you go; them be the worst dreams
in ’09, i had it tucked in the boot like surf jeans
mask on from the first screen
[?] was six years older than me when he jumped on the porch, p-ssy; my life been in pandemic since thirteen
by no means will i let a sand n-gga win in no ring
while you was fantasizin’ ’bout grantin’ n-ggas’ wishes, i had coke dreams
if i had a genie in a bottle, he’d be swimmin’ ’round in codeine
new era? big fifty-nine fifty; i cap ya whole team
wit’ somethin’ from idaho on the barrel; that’s a sweet potata
this gon’ be a old-school ass-whoopin’ [?]
[?] till he got a piece-a vega
no passport needed on this trip, my n-gga, but you finna meetchya maker
what made you think that you really could beat me?
stupid n-ggas from ya era out here thinkin’ smack really run sh-t when it really is beasley
i’m the face-a the culture, stupid; this really is easy
i’ll have two crips buck-fifty you down to [?] nitty and geechi
then, we can hurry out back
f-ck danny myers! i’m the goat and you said ya people make curry out that?
well, i ain’t worried ’bout that
no documentary footage but we could go thirty for thirty where steph curry house at
’cause i’m the oracle
all my straps portable
it go from slapboxin’ to street-fightin’ to play change like a audible
i’ma do this effortlessly; they recordin’ you
i’m out here makin’ this twenty-five thousand dollar ass-whoopin’ look very affordable
smack, why you book this here?
facts! i’m the biggest battle-a ya career
you the worst n-gga that i took this year
when i first laid eyes on nina, i got my glow back
i wanted to marry the b-tch the day that i met her like i was kodak
bars, delivery—i do everything, b-tch; i’m bojack
but dread ain’t fit for the new era ’cause my sh-t no cap
i’m from a era where you try to mimic everything ya father shows
youngins tote all kinda poles
and b-tches catch feelin’s like the common cold
where female cos’ll f-ck a inmate before it’s time to roll
my homie been locked up for the last twelve years and he got a five-year-old
my weed strands all good grades; please, do the honor roll
i got the hood on smash like— man, c’mon
go ‘head, bro
[round 2: real sikh]
my religion different than christians’; you better learn the history
sikhs were wishin’ for peace
but the place we from, radicals had us buried in the streets
we had to turn into warriors that was murderin’ to eat
be a saint and a soldier: that’s the words we really teach
“always keep a weapon.” that’s our personal belief
so there’s a burner on my seat ’cause-a the verses i was preached
so far as bein’ nonviolent, we firmly disagree
finishin’ a buck-fifty’s only time i turn the other cheek
you retired six-and-a-half times… you need to take care-a yaself
doin’ that to get pity reactions; tried it here then you failed
said you retired vers’ brizz then took a hilarious l
seems in your farewell battle, you wasn’t fairin’ too well
there’s mad times you shoulda packed up to leave
i think that you pushed it past peek
shoulda quit this when trick trick made you deny suge ’cause that’s weak
i’m sayin’, when he called shotgun, that’s when you shoulda took a backseat
this ain’t sikh and b dot; just sikh and i
really ichabod sh-t
split ya noggin’
hit ya top swiftly
the beam on this infra pop quickly
you know me from that two-on-two but i got a different dot wit’ me
i’m new jerus, you old jerus
the older school but molded who?
when our state was known for chokin’, you was chokin’, too
said you big jersey; i’m barely convinced
this time sh-t show you scared as a b-tch
so what i’m with that lyrical miracle sh-t?
i’m the only one in our state that don’t choke; that’s like a character glitch
they said jersey in a casket and it needed pallbearers
it’s only right sikh’s carryin’ it
i got it from here; you could dip
i’m evolvin’ sh-t in our homeland
more than just arguin’ wit’ a grown man
i feel like neo tryna rescue morpheous with his own plan
i’m tryna get arsonal with the program
you just got status; you livin’ off that
they take the name of our state as a way to quit and fall flat
’cause y’all said, “jersey.” y’all ain’t even bring the bars back
but when i say, “jersey!” i’m tryna bring the bars back
only two and a half? get ripped till the last minute
i’m stayin’ wit’ a gauge then i’m k!llin’ the cats that thinkin’ i have gimmicks
if the shoe fits, i bring the pump to every door like the prince with the glass slipper
[?] don’t rap; he list stats of things he did in his past ’cause he really ain’t have sh-t since
you pulled out a belt vers’ twork; i’m finna react different
i’m the kid in the back like i’m sick-a them ass-whippin’s
i only got a year on set
from here on, i dare y’all vets
i ain’t even in my rare form yet
now, i’m teachin’ you; you prepared for a test?
i got arsonal under the wing like a air force jet
every legend you saw against me has lost
i send ’em from main events to the start-a born legacy cards
i rip these legends; give me credit
a mc tha— (i got fifteen seconds?)
f-ck it! summer madness comin’; tell dna, “what’s up?” then
i want solomon back and not as one-a the judges
daylyt get sonned; tell ave, “let’s run it.”
get dizaster over here; i’m tryna battle my cousin
jersey!
[round 2: arsonal]
this déjà vu, me vers’ you
the two-on-two? chaos was pennin’ sh-t different
i told him, “stick to the script. don’t drag sh-t. make punches hit wit’ precision.”
what i do wit’ newcomers, i give ’em a vision
no disrespect but i claim myself on my taxes; i ain’t never need the kid for assistance
you n-ggas is different
i live what you didn’t
i’m is who you isn’t
when n-ggas needed that fix, i’m him who give the prescription
n-gga, you talk a good game, my n-gga, but never pop off
i peel; ya ex’ll see ya mouth wired—now, you get lockjaw
it was times i couldn’t get my hands on the scale and i had to eyeball
i knew my fiends on a first-name basis ’cause i did the drop-offs
when the product slowed up and i couldn’t cop raw
i was in home depot, stealin’ sheet rock so i could break down a drywall
i sold sugar, flour—whatever i had to when the time call
now, at thirty-five, play wit’ a .357; i guess i’m a oddball
i needed somewhere safe for a safe and in my room, that was the cheapest spot
not to mention i ain’t wanna cause no attention so i ain’t have a key and lock
i was sixteen wit’ a thirty-two; forty thousand cash might not seem a lot
but my whole life hidden in cardboard under my bed; never no jordans in my sneaker box
i get the grip, cl!ck; i make you drip before you [?] the shot
you speak to cops? you wouldn’t get respect on aretha’s block
you ain’t gon’ talk to me like you talk to the rest of these n-ggas
i will respectfully so disrespectfully start disrespectin’ this n-gga
i’m don’t get emotional; i’m a professional, n-gga
and i get to treat ay-rabs like you as tax write-offs ’cause i invested in n-ggas
now, don’t act like you ain’t beg at wisdom till he gave you battles
you better watch the words you put together; this a little different than playin’ scrabble
i was the n-gga who ran point but couldn’t wait to travel international
it was literally times i had to euro step to go make the battle
you started on my league and now you takin’ it for granted?
you forgot i was the one throwin’ the cards? it ain’t easy battlin’ gambit
you was past poor; i met you and still stamped it
you ain’t gotta be the main even on the card, n-gga; you facin’ the biggest battler on the planet
so now, you the center of attention
extendo on a smith-and
clumsy family; a b-tch [?]—well, yep, my sister get to trippin’
let’s surrender all suspicion
babs, [?], [?]—i don’t hit women
but my b-tch’ll smack the n-gga outta viixen
you? you should stop rappin’
on my avenue, you are not happenin’
we glock-grabbin’
then it’s boom! where’d that come from? john madden!
k!llers, i contract ’em
ten from the eagle—desean jackson!
fourth grade talent show wherever i go—the nine’s clappin’!
i got a twenty-two that’s deadly and sweet
thirty-two, said she a freak
forty, she squirt and got a better physique
man, i don’t give a f-ck if you respect what i speak
and f-ck you n-ggas! y’all don’t gotta gimme me flowers now ’cause they’ll be dead in a week, p-ssy!
my sh-t is real, my sh-t is raw, my sh-t is authentic
and you can’t spell “jersey” without puttin’ the ars in it, n-gga!

[round 3: real sikh]
you put who on? let’s separate the truth from lies
i won a bum-ass tournament on ya bum-ass league that you left unsupervised
so ya movement died
i had to go to smaller leagues to pursue the grind
then i caught lexx luthor’s eyes
he brought me to ibattle
ibattle… that’s the league that grew my shine
while you was sayin’, “no.” to battles, i was k!llin’ to survive
look at the leagues and what the letters in them two describe
you dub sh-t, i battle—that’s the difference between you and i!
plus i had to leave ’cause one-a ya bidness partners was a cop
sh-t, no wonder udubb has been deceased
it ain’t a coincidence that when they started defundin’ the police
he ran outta money for his league
what did you complete?
lux and hollow’s ya single hit
there was a police officer organizin’ the big events
in battle rap, ya league barely exist in it
how you had a cop doin’ the bookin’s and still couldn’t leave ya fingerprints?
ya other partner was ray swag
always next to you, ars
but you said he became a rat
another connection through law
a cop and a snitch
the end is whose fault?
was is the badge or the witness?
“badger the wit—”? am i takin’ these questions too far?
you never grew stars
your events had the vets in it
you tried to push rappers but they was h-lla irrelevant
ya staff members was central intelligence
why you surprised your talent had an arrested development?
question! you know what rhymes wit’, “arsonal da rebel”?
“none-a ya artists are successful.”
“you need a marketin’ professional.”
if marvel is url, dc is what i’m thinkin’ udubb to be
they the avengers, y’all the criminal justice league
f-ck police! teamin’ wit’ ’em was a major l
that’s the part you never bring up; it’s fake as h-ll
you been playin’ yaself
first, you went no shotgun, then you started to engage with twelve
now, i’m raisin’ h-ll!
udubb had no real benefit
it’s ibattle! i’m still reppin’ it
your company failed then the jail [?] h-lla quick
you worked wit’ a pig! shoulda known he’d curl up at the tail end of it
you told gotti you never got caught and arrested
but it’s all makin’ sense wit’ ya bidness partner’s profession
at first, i loyally joined the team, did them battles for the free
i’m only here to collect my royalties!
jersey!

[round 3: arsonal]
you talkin’ ’bout udubb and ibattle league
sayin’ you came up on ibattle league
but yeah, you was on udubb, our battle league
when y’all mention ray, i think back—mysterio
how you think you finna persuade usin’ that material?
growin’ up in my trap could bury you
i was taught before i shoot to skip breakfast meanin’ scratch the serial
see, it’s easy to have a off-night
this was a mis-match from the start
i’ll pull some chrome that’s all black out some off-whites
inf’ beam spot him through the fog lights
german ruger, not a german shepherd
this hit different than a dog bite
i’m straight-forward; ar got a k clip
i’m the n-gga you pray for, not the n-gga to play wit’
i got about thirty on neck
i got a thirty on deck
you still red-shirtin’, p-ssy
you ain’t put jersey on yet
you gotta survive twork
you can’t use a shotgun to try and rob surf
you still worryin’ ’bout résumés
the f-ck is this? a job search?
unemployment told you before you get that bread to list them jobs first
so you go against the home team, n-gga? that’s what yo’ pride worth?
you’ll get yo’ head dismantled
yeah, you got a lil’ crowd reaction, bruh; don’t let it amp you
up lead and blam you
you rather be livin’ proof or a dead example
what part-a jersey you from? f-ck whoever stamped you!
if you really from jerusalem, what’s the story behind the seven candles?
yeah, this a different vibe
i got indian in my family, too; i’m from the n-gga tribe
they gon’ charge me wit’ assault but this battery ain’t energized
rafiki on the clip ’cause i’m holdin’ somethin’ simba-sized
y’all n-ggas ain’t plan for this, right? now, n-ggas gotta improvise
pistol rise
i double these; they the official size
i already put dot on his head like other hindu guys
if i put a dot on yo’ chest, what that symbolize?
it’s n-ggas like you that got my whole hood gentrified
can’t f-ckin’ freestyle to save ya life
ya passion is dead
that’s why you wanna be known as a writer
’cause you can’t take that wrap off ya head
now, i’m here to sn-tch every bit of confidence from yo’ conscience
since you tryna convince the world-a yo’ accomplishments, i’m yo’ consequences
your mother told everybody in here you the family liar…
you know what i’m sayin’?
you talkin’ all this tough sh-t, i could turn ya whole family bias
it was three punches to end my second; my hand retired
but the fourth hit by the third round like he danny myers
i’m in a parallel universe and i’m startin’ to feel a disconnect
i don’t think y’all really noticed: i went three rounds of straight bars and i ain’t even use no disrespect
my whole career, you been all on my d-ck
i showed up twelve years never late to work; f-ck i look like callin’ out sikh, n-gga?
my sh-t is real, my sh-t is raw, my sh-t is authentic
and you can’t spell, “jersey.” or say the sh-t without mentionin’ ars, b-tches!
jersey!

- urltv

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