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urltv - gjonaj vs gutta (gjonaj's rounds) lyrics
[round 1: gjonaj]
that whole sh-t p-ssed me off
you getting on my d-mn nerves
i have got no name flips for no adverb
(cos you look like aye verb)
but by a show of hands, how many of y’all seen gutta vs blacksmif?
for those who didn’t let me save you 26 minutes of some wack sh-t!
mid-way through his second round a fan goes “yo! this is a cl-ssic!”
long story short: that fan got his -ss kicked
d-mn it norbes! sometimes i think you out your f-ckin mind
i mean how you set a battle up where the fans throw more punches than both of them combined?!
i mean why’d you have a debatable with someone who never looked you in your eyes
and now you in front of an animal spitting
my last battle i said “put a shank to his throat, i’m apple picking”
well you, you gon’ die a different way. but the sh-t’s the same
shank to his head, that’s a good idea: let’s pick his brains!
i’mma do him dirty
pause…get your mind out the gutter, gutta
rell told me to clown you, sno told me to f-ck your mother
but me, i’d rather end it early, do you a favor
you can die before your time- euthanasia
have somethin’ pointed at your face: h-llraiser
you can die for a rack: al qaeda
this next part ain’t complex, i’ll find your b-tch later
trail her to her apartment not even house can save ya
see, that’s a mini-scheme
you need help with that
for example, the word “rug”
break it down: r-u – to h-ll with that!
you can die on the carpet for not knowing where you welcome at!
you see the difference between punching and rapping
see, even when i’m playing defense, i’m f-cking attacking
i got something you’re lacking: a chip on my shoulder like government tracking
aaron hernandez- see how a patriot acting?
oh, you heard he g-ngb-nging?
well, news flash, he fake flag-moving: that’s the moon landing!
i’m armstrong
challenge and get strong-armed
you long gone when the drama on
you the first b-tch singing like chaka khan
i’m a phenomenon
bottom line – i can battle john john in a mosque and still out-rhyme a don!
you soft, you aren’t built for the octagon
you softer than a soccer mom
no one respects you
your b-tch cheated on you
she snuck a man in on the side like papa john
i’m here to take what’s mine!
what, you don’t get that? flip that!
i’m like oj simpson stealing his sh-t back. sit back!
sh-t, by now, if you’re not a fan
i got holy punches that i promise land
so get flagrant
he gon’ let the words die like aramaic
this left will try ya chin a
i’ll lay you flat out, try again
but christ, the second’s coming if he rise again!
so cross-examine
you see, what often happens is a fan sees gutta and believes his rapping
not knowing you’d actually die if it was feast or famine
see, that goes way beyond battle bars
knowing for me to eat, he has to starve
i’m not human, i’m an alien trapped in an avatar
forced to translate every f-ckin half-a-bar
i was in pandora’s box when i wrote this sh-t
you knew the world was f-cked when you opened it!
early!
[round 2: gjonaj]
that first round, i k!lled you with punches (i k!lled you)
now i’m attacking your pride
but even though you died, let me welcome you to the other side
this is for the intellectual, whose mind isn’t a vegetable
this is not for the fan who thought “um-berreta” was incredible
see, some of us are destined for greatness
knowledge is power if you embrace it
but remember, technology couldn’t build what the slaves did!
pyramid schemes got us thinking faster
they spot an arab and see disaster
i was hoping to see the raptures
who gave this b-tch power like cleopatra!?
you smell those pheromones
the same ones who claimed they were heir to thrones wouldn’t bury bones and switch characters when they’re alone
well honestly, save those f-ckin’ apologies
i’ve been down paths so f-ckin’ dark my own shadow wouldn’t follow me
yet you judge me like i have a perfect life
well, i can take or save lives, that’s a surgeon’s knife
that’s power in my hands: i’m electro
bridge of corpses, of course there’s a death toll
i’m losing y’all, but am i losing y’all?
i mean, look, brother, what did peter really do for paul?
let me stop. that’s too much knowledge
and you don’t know the difference between conscious and conscience
if i beat you unconscious, it weighs on my conscience
that’s two different ways on my conscience
fork in the road, psychologist
what do you see?
well, if you see it like me
a fork in the road means you can eat off the streets!
you see, it’s all perception!
what you perceive as choices, i see as convenience
if i let you live, that’s lenience
why do you need a reason to listen to reason?
lacerations and lesions got you buried alive while you’re barely alive
and all over pride
they ask me, “how?”
no, better yet: “why?”
i come up with these rhymes inside of my mind
how i can make a person born with no tear ducts heavily cry?
a paraplegic man looked me dead in the eye and told me, “take it one step at a time”
imagine a line so f-ckin’ profound if you said it, you’d die
now would you say it?
i mean, if it’s your life or his, would you save him?
see, y’all don’t want real sh-t
bars are your favorite
but i’m making a statement
you had it backwards
you’re in a vacant bas-m-nt chasing jason, and now you’re face-to-face
those b-tterflies in your stomach aren’t nerves, they’re blades
so that feeling in your gut, is it worse than your gut feeling?
or worse for the people who relied on you and see gutt failing!
i don’t think you get what i mean
daylyt said sleeping on him will get you k!lled in your dreams
but i’m the real freddy krueger, ’cause i’m k!lling your dreams!
this round, i said, “f-ck it!”, packed it with substance
but don’t worry, that third round i’m going back to the punches!
[round 3: gjonaj]
now you getting checked
you said a lot of big words, so i’mma take that as disrespect
picture this: me at home, a week ago, tryin’ to get focused
by myself, p-ssed off at the person i’m alone with
tryna feed people with a closed fist and channeling my anger when i wrote this
they ask me the same f-ckin’ question every battle: “am i gonna win?”
i’m like “is h-ll hot? does every battle rapper sell rock and been in a cell block?”
you don’t think i got guns too? well, stop
i let it ring and you get in the bag: that’s a bellhop!
die in the lobby
who can stop me?
if i die, then you die: i’m a kamikaze
a sick twisted f-ck. i knew you wouldn’t cut off the leg to save the body
see that’s the difference between you and i
if it’s do-or-die, all you’ll do is die
that’s why i buried him- you’re beneath me
i’m arrogant – you’re beneath me
i’m arrogant, i mean even if you don’t f-ckin get it
you better uno lavoz and pretend to dig it
no jokes
your only sliver of hope is that i choke
and that opening is so narrow
like a cancer patient on a cold table hoping your a match for their bone marrow
and that’s the one line i won’t cross to get in his head
i’m not a witch doctor: i don’t bring up the dead
that’s for p-ssies without a pen game
b-tch, welcome to the end game!
i’m kim jong, four-fifth drawn
that’ll make a couple retreat like vince vaughn
until he lifeless
american k!lled on cam: welcome to isis!
then does it stop, though?
nah, the whole camp dies next: this the gestapo
that’s your crew
every one of you gets fed embalming fluid
that’s how they all gon’ die when they all alive
unless you find somewhere for them all to hide
f-ck hyde, i’m dr. jekyll
cooking the kid: hansel and gretel
hands on the metal, now it’s time to dance with the devil
you should’ve let it be, i would’ve let you leave
you could’ve survived the war, that’s a refugee
but you stayed right where the war at
blood splattered all over the floor mat
looks like a f-cked-up image from rorschach
(rorschach, that’s the ink test)
ironic you’re dying to a better pen
norbes set you up to die, you should probably get some better friends
the worst part about this -ss-whooping?
on youtube, it never ends!
i recommend you console your fans
i’m wise beyond my years
i got advice from an older man
he said “never throw punches with a broken hand”
i looked at him, confused, like “yo, i don’t understand?”
he said “what good’s a punch if there’s no power when it f-ckin’ lands?!”
and you got the nerve to battle me with subtle jabs
like you would’t get f-cking dragged and f-cking bagged
well, now i’m mad! and i can’t get past it
so i’mma catch your leaving summer madness, talking to your f-cking ratchet
knife you at a red light
tell your b-tch you got stuck in traffic!
d-mn, see how your life flashes and it’s gone in a new york minute, another new york victim
cops like “new york did it”
and i leave the crime scene in a detroit fitted!
goodnight!
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