[Round 1: Hitman Holla]
No more freebies, my name hot, I cost now
You just a worker, a phone call will bring his boss down
One false sound, I switch games
Put on a helmet, long ass ratchet, it’s like lacrosse now
You look nervous, you don’t wanna floss now
Check his heart, check his pulse now
You get soft now cause you a target, ridin’ ’round with bulls eyes on ya cheeks like the Saw clown
I hear the bloggers, listen I tune ’em out
Cause I got a chance to show niggas what I’m truly ’bout
I’m a cool dude he get rude then the toolie out
Went from arguin’ to callin’ the boat units out
It’s a bunch of ’em, it’s cool, the scope will choose ’em out
Actin’ all rough I bet them hollows will smooth him out
Snatch his chain, jewel him out
Backyard pool him out
Squeezin’ metal back T? I truly doubt
St. Louis niggas Spielberg can write a movie ’bout
[?] never put the movie out
I’m the man, I’m on a level beyond
You been in third all ya life I don’t settle for bronze
It’s like the [?] I want, you better settle and run
I’m shootin’ some shit that look like a metal baton
So them basic ass raps won’t work when I’m in beast mode
You ain’t got a chance, unless you got a cheat code
I ain’t ya pops, I don’t give a fuck ya freak hoes
Standard clips, bitch nigga you can greet those
Yeah he got a couple niggas wit’ him, they weak though
They just gon’ stand and stare when I shoot like a free throw
You and whatever Chicago repper gon’ help you overcome this lecture
Cause in order for you to win you need Dwayne Wade, Derrick Rose and Devin Hester
Brian Urlacher, Twista and R. Kells
Barack Obama and the first lady Michelle
Hollow Da Don, he need the [?] jail
Country Grammar sales, Rambo shells
Sonic tails
[?]/shells
Heaven/Hell
Sharks/whales
And that’s just for a nigga to say, “Big T! You did well.”
[Round 1: Big T]
Hitman Holla, what a [?]
Well it’s Hitman turn to get hit man, no casket
I give him and his man’s urns
College nigga you street knowledge
I’m ’bout to make him and his man you learn
You ’bout to see Hitman holler once he run into Hitman Hearns
Boy you done ran into that bad apple
Period blood, I Tampax you
Found on the beach by a sand castle
Freestyle? I Saran Wrap you
Dress you up in a rabbit suit and let Yosemite Sam have you
I got money to send ya fam’ at you
Have everyone from Nelly to Murphy Lee backhand slap you
Tell you to football post with your hands shackled
And have Superbowl tackles come ramshack you
Now I got you, everybody is hearin’ it
He represent the Lou’, right?
Everybody, it’s history
Not just because I’m ’bout to beat the shit outta him lyrically
Y’all ’bout to see a nigga put St. Louis out of misery (Missouri)
Y’all [?] for fightin’ a [?]
Him? Standin’ in the trap with packs to bring dollars in?
That nigga a snitch
Never carry those around [?]
You’ll think we roll with librarians, we’ll never allow Holla in (hollerin’)
Boy this ain’t what you want right now
You’ll get jumped right now
Get up and get snubbed right down
You don’t believe me?! Chump [?]
Silencer on son like blaow
Make it sound more like…
Put one foot up on his [?] right now
I grab his hands and feet, pull him p right now
[?] tryin’ to make ’em touch right now
I get him go, his spine will be shaped like the arch if it was upside down
I hate everything about you
When you was born, I hate the fuckin’ day
Nigga I hate ya mom for havin’ you, I wrote her hate mail on Mother’s Day
I go back in time and tell ya mom to give head instead of gettin’ fuckin laid
Trick is, you knew that shit couldn’t get pregnant the other way
The air you breathe, every fuckin’ day
I hate the house you live in, the pillow where you fuckin’ lay
You was a baby, I hate the playpen you and your brother play
Bottle, bib, I even hate the crib like a runaway
You lucky we at this battle if you wasn’t I’d call the tribe on him
You know, find the crib at, where he live at, get a line on him
Mother, brother, son, fuck ’em all we ridin’ on ’em
You know I gotta be discrete you know Holla be havin’ wires on him
His [?] grab the heater, put the [?] on him
But his brother had heart, now you can open it up and find it on him
I ain’t gonna tell you how his little boy dyin’
But the way we took the son (sun) out you would’ve thought we put blinders on
You thought you was gonna win this battle huh chica? Not today
We Terror Squad, ‘Lean Back’, give the rock away
Where you hustle, we’ll call shots today
Boy you’ll have thought we was playin’ Jenga the way we pull this nigga’s block away
[Round 2: Hitman Holla]
Chicago rappers known for the gang bangin’
Snatchin’ charms if the chain hangin’
And y’all quick to bust TEC’s
But lately, Yung Berg got St. Louis thinkin’ all that shit’s suspect
You don’t got coke to blow, you aren’t what you seem to be
Nigga you soft ass teddy bear, you wouldn’t swing on a Wii
Aye, I run up on you with a [?] knife, clean through his knees
After I chop him up, St. Louis, Buffalo wings on me
I turn his bitch into a [?]
I wish you [?] me, but you the type that wanna wrestle, bear hug me
Fuck contact I just need to skin his shoulders
Where my polar bears? I got some shit to knock grizzlies over
Big T, I don’t know what you heard, but I ain’t none of what you heard
My GD niggas in the Chi’ told me you was a fuckin’ nerd
In high school all you did was beg for nigga’s lunches
Didn’t even smoke, always had the munchies
[?] junkies
The same [?] you takin’ here is equivalent to [?] a house with a joystick cord tryin’ to bungie
You think it’s a game until they find you in the dirt like Jumanji
Top prospect of the country
You? Just lunch meat
Ya bitch called me for sex, I make her take me to the mall first
Come back, deep throat me ’til her jaws hurt
He can’t even show up at her house, she make him call first
He hard headed, pops up…see me there…now we all here
Now I want to fight him
I slam his face into the wall first
Drag him outside, mouth open, make him claw dirt
Put him in the street, I had fun, let him crawl first
Stand him up, then hit him with the truck like Stallworth
Ya clique a bunch of lame niggas, all jerks
A whole buck combined is what y’all all worth
Aye, he came 50 deep
Good, cause I’ma let the .40 shake
And turn SMACK DVD to channel A&E cause I’ma shoot the First 48
He don’t wanna fight, I’ll steel mill box him
What’s Ali to a female Hopkins?
Bring my last gat from that one shootout you know why? I’ma re-shell ’em
Sell his body parts on the computer, watch how I e-mail ’em
Put his insides on layaway, watch how I retail him
You forgot? Aw, a nigga got to re-tell him
That there’s a big difference between bein’ big and shy and bein’ big in the Chi’
Ball game!
[Round 2: Big T]
Yo, I knew you was gonna come with all that rah rah shit
Haha quit
‘Fore you hear that vrr-atata spit
Grandma, nana, papa hit
Lil’ sis’ outlined in the same chalk she play hopscotch wit’
I should’ve never took this battle in the first place
Pistols? I had two in front of him like I had him up in third place
Flowers be where ya dirt placed
Cause I’m blastin’ the weapon to have him pass in a second like a force out comin’ from first base
[?] say you see my bitch and you wanna smash that
Aight don’t be surprised if she askin’, “Where the cash at?”
You step to a [?] you get laughed at
You be at a House Party but you wouldn’t give this Kid Play in Class Act
That’s that
I got heat seekers to follow you remember
Rain, sleet, snow, it’ll follow through the winter
Brick, snow, concrete, it’ll follow through and hit ya
Eat through you and seek through you and follow you to dinner
He alive? Roload and follow through to injure
Only way you’ll be saved if you was followin’ the scriptures
Shoot you in January watch it follow you to December
Aim at his computer screen, now they can follow him on Twitter
That’s how I send ’em at Holla
That’s why we call him “That Holla” cause you sort loud
Ya flow? Meow
Me? I’m a lion when he on the prowl
You lack success cause you not accepted well, nigga we know ya style
You September 12th when the tower’s fell, everything’s watered down
So don’t be goin’ how you let lead spark
Go ‘head talk
But ya man’s bark?
Man that nigga [?] gonna be a landmark
I’m leavin’ you stinkin’ and ya man talk
I put ya grandma back ’til her spine shaped like a damn arch
Put ya granddad in the hospital, he got a bad heart
Next to someone they pullin’ the plug on and switch the damn chart
I don’t care if you rock a damn vest, these bullets go through ya flesh part
It’ll be in his chest like Brett, bullets be next to Hitman heart (Hart)
I bet you thought you had the win like it was a damn shoo-in
You went 12 rounds wit’ me? Thought you had the win
Congratulations though {pulls his hand back}
Thought you had a friend
You ain’t a baller, you [?] in that class you in
Oh you think you stuntin’, right cause [?] let you have the Benz
C-Class to G-Class, look at the whips they have you in
But I got the mind to see whatever Benz they have you in
And do like Columbine, hit up every Class you in
They wanted to style on him you see T you see the hoes wit’ me
You know, sippin’ Mo’, Remy, Remy, Mo’ ’til the show empty
Unload, reload, unload, reload until the fo’ empty
Boy these real clips I’m bringin’ to the movies will leave the show empty
Sayin’ “finish him” now I can take his soul wit’ me
You couldn’t be sick like I be sick if you caught a cold wit’ me
[?] condo then I’m John Doe in the [?] bell go “Hello”
Listen nigga, you not in my weight class we can’t clash-
{Smack calls time}
[Round 3: Hitman Holla]
‘Round here, watch how you talk T
Peep the word “softy”
Cause you’ll get more than your ball took tryin’ to cross me
Overweight rapper, the hoes be like, “The hell wit’ him.”
You can’t pack a show, you play in Boston you wouldn’t sell tix (Celtics)
You a frail bitch that ain’t never shot a shell clip
It won’t be a pretty sight but I’ll make this male strip
Put the Eagle on him, clips (Clipse) good like Pharrell’s shit
Leave him on a trail ditched or next to a shellfish
When the cops find him they mistake him for a whale fish
Burn his whole house down, [?] shit
I been progressin’, you still waitin’ to excel shit
Name your mixtape “garage” you still wouldn’t sell shit
Talkin’ ’bout you never lost, tonight we shall see
You leavin’ here a runnin’ back cause you gon’ take an L, T
Hitman is in now, fuck could you tell me?
Chicago think you the shit? Then wait ’til they smell me
His girlfriend tried to warn him
He mad cause his whore know he couldn’t beat me on my worst day
With a sore throat he couldn’t see me on his best day with a horoscope
He still tryin’ to make a name, I’m a for sure vote
This water too shallow, for you to try to dive in
You don’t wanna die? Better watch your eyes then
I go to his granny house like, “Knock knock”
“Who is it?”
“Tramp let my guys in!”
She screamin’ “Don’t shoot me!”
“Ain’t nobody gonna shoot you. Bitch we brought them knives in
Where’s newborn?” I listen for the cries when
I spot her, I pick her up by her thighs then
Put her across my chin, cut her across the chest, it look like I’m playin’ a violin
[?] he lyin’, I win
I’ma fuck yo’ ass up for the time bein’
I knew I said I wouldn’t do it, but fuck it, I’m stressin’
I gotta address it, like I could’ve been ignorant but the shit is depressin’
For example; I could’ve said your body too wide to fit in a wide body Lexus
Or you smell like breakfast
Or, “Bitch! Get yo’ fat black ass over here and make some macaroni and cheese in my [?]”
[?]
This ain’t verbal abuse, this violence; domestic
I know a fiend that if I give 50 cent, he’ll rape, burn and kill ya mama; [?]
As y’all can see, this nigga done
For all you other battle rappers, there’s only so much longer you niggas can run
Ball game!
[Round 2: Big T]
Boy you look at me like you got a point to prove
But swing on me I’ma get my joints confused
Or I’ma hit you with all sorts of moves
These are scopes all on the tools
So takin’ ya life, seem real easy from my point of view
And I ain’t goin’ to the joint for you, so that mean anybody that roll with you can end up on the news
Ya bitch said somethin’ she goin’ too
I shot at Whoopi Goldberg just for the bitch bein’ on The View
In my city we wouldn’t honor you in the honor roll
If you took Barack Obama role
And Jeffrey Dahmer mode
We’ll be where you spot at; vamanos
Everyone on the block flat; dominoes
Adios, I’m the manager of the chaos
Of it’s your job to live, right? Well I’m ’bout to get him laid off
Boy advances better pay off
If not then it’s bye bye like two free advances in the playoffs
Adolf on the shit I’m on if the crew wit’ me
You know why he don’t want nothin’ to do with me
There’s too many Jews wit’ me
I got the money to make a bitch settle that was too picky
I’m what she don’t wanna see in yo’ bitch like a new hickey
Damn boy, you couldn’t be a Bad Boy if you knew Diddy
Now he want somethin’ to do wit’ me cause he see his boo wit’ me
He threw two, missed me, boy I was too swifty
But if you ain’t Mayweather well these haymakers gon’ be a doohicky
He’s trainin’ like a girl, I let two hit me
Then another two hit me
Then a falafaboo hit me
I think, “The fuck am I fightin’ for? I got that chalaka boo wit’ me!”
Boo Boo wit’ me
Boo Boo Boo wit’ me
Who is he? Nigga I roll with mad clips; two 50’s
[?] Russell mentality, I ain’t tryin’ to make no new 50’s
Franklin’s and new Benji’s, pop him, this dude stick me
That nigga couldn’t get a president face if he was Monica Lewinsky
Usually I’ll spread the .4 but I forgot it today
What that machete for? Edge or sword, chopped in the face
Him and his man neck exposed to the neck and bones, they shouldn’t have got in the way
Now they head’ll roll so much, I damn near forgot they was gay
I’m where your spot is today, set up shop see if you home there
Get a block, set up shop, make it home there
He said [?]
Go on player
Or you bae be found like the letter “H” it be in the middle of “nowhere”
You see me and T we get it gone there
[?] set up shop, make it home there
[?] but if any nigga look at me wrong there
I get a list of your Facebook friends and wipe out every motherfucker on there!
Listen, Holla, you don’t wanna step in my weight class young guy
Tough guy, I’ll knock you out ’til you only got one eye
I eat nigga up like you baby, c’mon lunch time
Nigga this ain’t even dinner for a nigga like you it’s brunch time
I come around Nestle, you ain’t involved, crunch time
You get in my face nigga you ain’t a full course, it’s munch time
{Smack calls time}