King of the Dot - Bigg K vs The Saurus lyrics

[Round 1: Bigg K] You know how I know he s** at gambling And he keeps having to come back here? ‘Cause he had them same Jordans on when he battled DNA last year This sh** is me and Illmac revisited, right? You gon' spit two rounds of that bullsh** The other round try and give me advice; sprinkle in how you and him took battle rap past limitless heights And ain't none of that about to save you From this a**-kicking tonight If you own a The Saurus CD, you's a motherf**ing nerd You soft ‘cause he soft, that's my motherf**ing word You about to get beat, sleeped, clean sweeped I'm a butler with the words Get mopped in the first and second, dusted in the third Get your jaw touched with a quick jab Kick, grab, Pete washed up; he get dish-ragged Pistol getting banged, like a locker in gym cla** A clip blast, he gon' need a sh** bag and a skin graft I'm in the hood Where you ain't posted on the corner not strapped Bandana on the face, go to war like Iraq This .40 all black, knock him 40 yards back Uppercut him through the roof, like Mortal Kombat You lightweight, this sh** is steak dinner to rice cakes I violate, slice his wife face with a ice skate That corny a** rap verse' K don't fly straight I get my motocross, you gon' handle bars 'til the bike break So Freddy Krueger better tell his son "chill" I'ma get this dub, see? With this MAC-10, gon' lift your Chevy up on one wheel A gun bu*t will crack the Des E, but it dump still Your life ain't worth a bag of Reggie and a BluntVille I'll smack you in the face with a burner But you ain't worthy of the bullet, you's a waste of a murder And if you ever try to play me I'll toss your baby off the third floor That b**h scream when I throw it, like a Nerf ball You got a semi-automatic? I'm coming with a fully Duct tape, trash bags, a shovel and a pulley Tell Mr. Two Times Everything he f**ing with a bully And you can take them two rings and shove 'em in your p**y! [Round 1: The Saurus] Now you on Peyote thinking K finna K.O. me, okay homie? Betting when he catch a fade you can pay me what K owe me I came only with a set of hands that were made solely To make you stutter, like the second hand on a fake Roley So watch y'all, I ain't come to box on sight But if a bounty on his head, what's the knock-off price? I heard you got two strikes hustlin' rock on your block all night That means you so fat, slow and stupid you got caught twice Now he too scared of strike three to ever let his steel pop Should've *67'd him and kept him in a cell block I'm deading him, real talk, this next one is a k** shot Headed at your grill, so protect it like your milk box I still got this sh** locked in more than one way First I made sure my lump sum pay was more than son made Plus, got a thousand-dollar bonus Every time he use some corny gunplay Just to ensure I'd see some benefits before I won, K Now look, we met your baby mama The whole West was training on her Snatched your boo, K, she was never made of honor See, people think the left is made of metal-plated armor 'Til I raise that right, like a dedicated father All your white fans online think this cat's straight loco But he's scared to see a judge, like this match ain't promo See me flash? I ain't trying to snap K's photo He gon' meet the hit squad if we catch K solo So you need to face fact, yeah, you squeeze and spray gats But only Kevin Spacey believing K packs So what's up y'all? I'm all night barring, like a pub crawl Lean back, I came to catch a body, like a trust fall [Round 2: Bigg K] He said something like "I was so fat I got caught twice" I'll let a bullet whistle 'round your neck, like Top Flight That round you just spit? Not tight All reaches, no punches; B Magic and Fox fight See, after this, we poppin' bottles and the Fauntleroy I'm mixing cris with the spade, like Tommy Boy I heard when you was growing up you was a mommy's boy And your neighborhood used to chase you and call you salami boy, and you know why? That's ‘cause your parents owned a sandwhich shop Getting they cheese and they lettuce on Your moms was a Boar's Head beast with a set of horns And she gave birth at work, he was deli born That's why his face look like a salami cold cut After you pick out the peppercorn I'm like that, get your mic snatched, I'm real rude You ain't like that, you might rap, you still food And besides that, what if I snap in a ill mood? Is you just gon' stand here and get f**ed up, or fight back and still lose? Ho, listen, I send a whole clip in your jawbone Barrel smoking to the tip, like a Raw Cone I heard you moved out Vegas and got a crib that you call home This .50 singing on the strip ain't Tom Jones I come to your cookout, roll up, then pa** the blunt by ya Stick my hands in your plate, like a umpire Shoulder stocks that fold down, like a sun visor Twin cans; I'm Steve Austin with the Budweiser Word to the game, my whole team gutter I give this twat a body shot 'til his spleen rupture You in a dirty-a** hooptie you call "the green thunder" This stick banging on that bucket like a street drummer You trying to think of rebu*tals, you need a life saver My sh** is like King Kong off the skyscraper Guns under your chin, bang, violate ya Brains hanging from the ceiling, like flypaper Either this one-two lay 'em stiff Or I'ma come through spraying sh** Bullets ain't got no names Tell that to who the f** you staying with ‘Cause once they see this chopper out the sun roof, dangerous Splatter the whole block, like "who the f** you playing with?!" [Round 2: The Saurus] You did alright in that battle with Illmac There's no questioning But what happens in his matches are no threat to me See they package us both together ‘Cause they're attached to our old legacy But we're our own entities, Illmaculate sold separately Now, being underdog is something I don't understand hardly But a bunch of cats think he going Son of Sam on me I don't care if he coming with a hundred-man army I'll be posted outside, like Thunder Dan Majerle I'm hot-handed, listen to me; I don't need to grip a Uzi To have you waving that flag, like Mr. Fuji You just a name on a list, this is business to me My fist'll give your neck A bigger twist than David Fincher's movies This fool is truly a goon that don't play So what I gotta do, put up my dukes and coach K Showcase an a**-beating, take away the man's freedom Stampede him 'til his fam has to hand-feed him Amnesia, can't f**ing remember He went to sleep in a ring, woke up on a stretcher Feeling lumps on his head From where my knuckles have entered ‘Cause I got 'em pointed for you, like a public defender You got a record, we get it You've been to prison, as if it matters; two strikes But now you a different man, and you switching answers Out West we live by a set of different standards I give a f** if you've moved hundred packs Of that Virginia bammer I give a f** about your past, you ain't pa**ing by me Your next charge is life, so there's a chance y'all might see Them interrupt this battle for a satellite feed Of the fat kid from Sandlot catching strike three [Round 3: Bigg K] Goddamn, you are f**ing sweating Somebody needs to give Pete an Alley Talking 'bout I sell Virginia bammer b**h, I get my weed from Cali They take their best shots, I find a way to block it I turn these stars into stripes, sh** is patriotic It's gun bars in your raps like you gangsta – stop it! I'll have them animals on your head, like Davy Crockett You done committed suicide, wa*ksta I throw him in the trunk, make him scuba dive later What you got, them multis, or them stupified angles? Ain't none of that gon' fly here, like the Bermuda Triangle I got started local, now these bars is global sh**-stain better switch lanes 'fore his car gets totaled These is words from a k**er Delivered through a Spartan's vocals I will bag The Saurus, like Barnes & Noble I say quit rapping, you best find you a hobby Let's get this sh** cracking, I'll strech slime in the lobby I'm from the east side, thuggin' on y'all west side with a shotty Close range, I'll knock off the whole west side of your body No feelin', this dope dealin' is bone-chillin' You've been battling for 15 years with no rhythm I crank it into fifteenth gear, go get him Let fo' hit him that go through him and his bro with him These cold k**ers open your ceiling; Jerry Jones Flexing, now you 'bout to get checked in the Terrordome From up the block, Pete'll get rocked out his herringbone Long range, I let it sing deep; that's baritone And you like talking while people rapping That there is a motherf**er; we signed a contract And they don't pay the fare if I s**er-punch ya But you throwing salt in the game Like you dare me to uppercut ya I'll whoop your a** for throwing salt You Harry in Dumb and Dumber You gon' catch these elbows like a kickboxer I'll put this bone through your nose, like a witch doctor Give you the beats out west, I'll Rick Rock ya I'm on that sh** Pac was on at the gym locker [Round 3: The Saurus] I can tell from how you talk about Smack That you not a well-paid dude But you missed your homie's funeral for your URL debut Now, look, I'm aware that every story that you tell ain't true But if that one is, that sh** sure as hell ain't cool I'm just saying, maybe some of K's views are distorted Now you can listen to this truth, or you can choose to ignore it I'm not tryin' to tell you what's important Just saying you call battle rapping corny But you missed your brother's funeral for it Even the average human being Can see the gap is huge between us This a small sewage seep next to Katrina This is tryin' to shoot the breeze Versus tryin' to shoot a street up You would be a small fluid leak next to Fukishima You and me? Way beyond student/teacher It's a deuce-deuce tryin' to nuke Katrina The big picture: a computer screen next to a movie theatre You lose, I could do this in my sleep, like a lucid dreamer The root of evil, if the payday's right then He gon' get grade-A violence, the way they like it Straight right cold enough to make his state change climate So it sounds like if I knock him out, the K stays silent Go ahead, spell-check it, yeah, you sure as hell guessed it I slept, but I'm still better, ‘cause I'm well-rested When I'm done I'ma have to get my scale tested ‘Cause I break him down, bag him up; that's my sales method Now, I'm a legend, so you need not warn me Dude's beyond corny; QP on Maury And that story 'bout you winning is one I won't let stand ‘Cause when you accepted this, you f**ing up; go 'head, man!