URLtv - Tsu Surf vs Hitman Holla lyrics

[Round 1: Tsu Surf] First thing I hear when I touch down is “Surf, the Midwest groovin'. Such and such nice, what's his name doing his numbers, and I don't see the Midwest losin'” Well, I could think of a few verbs, for the n***as that think they ill I come through the Midwest cruisin' X all factors, hit all men trying to holla-- Aye, Hitman, let me holla at you I brought enough for you and ShowwOutt And anybody that show out Already got my other half, I'll clear this f**ing show out 'Bout to get this n***a dressed, no, he ain't about to go out I need that old Hitman, tank top with the rope out Yett Yett, what? This 60's sh** is something you don't know 'bout You said you wanted to ride… well, Gerald let's roll out Me and my strap got two different visions But I see hands so clear Mines going out blazing, clips dropping, no fear Look like a car crash, he get the bag; no air That tre see morgue and he don't wanna go there They say Tsu Surf cold, but all he talk about is hoopin' ‘Cause I feel like I'm shootin' when I squirt pounds And as long as them cans is close, his wig in by the first round If it's hard, but not real I don't care about ya bar, he get two to the chest I slid up on duke and drew with finesse My big homie told me how them streets play out is wild That mean if this mark is smart he'll stay out the crowd How you average 26.6, moonwalk on skates, and clap heat? You are not a shooter Feet, hand, sticks; Amadou ya, that's how I'ma do you Raised in that croc pool, send some piranhas to ya Lift the Hitman up to God, can I get a "hallelujah"? I'm always reaching ‘Cause a paranoia trip is way better than nervous Chilled against Charlie but still here I think I handled that Clip better than Curtis So Hitman will front, and ShowwOutt is back? Boy, I make Hitman' front show out his back f** Cable, this could happen on demand, it's go time Was on the net flickin' through your music Got bored in no time; how much you weighin', brother? It don't really matter when it's yo' time I send him MAC's, he pay per round – Verb, it's showtime And every single n***a you see me with, I clap for him Gotta give him six, man, can he? Better pray Antoine come back for ‘em They say Surf reach a lot… maybe cause Surf reach a lot This new Cal I'm buyin' stupid, period, I'll teach a block Columbine, period, teacher, block… This gun talk 101, I can teach a block I don't know about you, but I ain't trying to get shot for sh** It became so normal, I reach when I ain't got the sh** I ain't a Proving Ground n***a, this ain't proven ground, n***a Been getting a million views What you proving now, n***a? Jersey! [Round 1: Hitman Holla] Besides the fact you got k**ed in your last war You said you want that Hitman with that rope chain and that tank top? Be careful what you ask for f** you and any n***a that co-sign him Man, I'll hold your daughter over the boat like “Surf your daddy?” (“Yeah?”) “Well, go find him!” It's a wrap now, two big 40's and a MAC round The Shotgun I brought do way more than a pat down You crippin'? I roll with B's You talking all that basketball sh** till I Eurostep With the switchblade and X him over C's Me lose tonight? No f**ing way. Smack, do not call time, ‘cause I got a lot of sh** I gotta f**ing say Example: I made my own name my n***a, I was in top form I came to the stage, the people they got they popcorn They call you Tsu Surf ‘cause you waited on a Loaded Lux co-sign wave, and hopped on – that's b**h sh** Riding a n***a dick – that's some sissy sh** Well, I'm strapped in your neighborhood with two 30's Let's see if y'all really about that 60's sh** Honestly, f** who came with you tonight, y'all all lunch I got a brand new black MAK-90 with no rubber grip That's for the raw bunch You seen what I did to Ars and Red? This your way to learn Man, I done hung up more Jersey n***as than David Stern I'm pissed and I'm not in the mood, don't talk slick to me I'm gifted, I win off presence; no Christmas tree I'm way too much, to win you need a glitch from me I'm Stevie Wonder; subtitles don't mean sh** to me Y'all praise him for getting booked for possession? I'm finna say, what, y'all happy he floss with it? ‘Cause where I'm from we praise the shooters Not the n***as that get caught with it Man, I'm undefeated with a weapon… sh**, I'm a boss, n***a And it's loaded, f** Lux, this Calico ain't lost, n***a My boys in the hood, I brought plenty convicts And d**h is the answer to any conflict You brought Suge, I'm like, “Why? That n***a's a b**h” We ain't seen Shotgun put in work since Ricky got hit f** peace, I like the streets, shots and sirens Whole hood got jobs, ‘cause the block is hirin' Potato on the deadbeat; that mean the pop is silent Me and my n***as'll walk through your neighborhood Like we trying to stop the violence Chill ‘fore I flash one, remix that blast, son “Holla, let me get him!” - nah, you f**ed up my last one I'm thinking 'bout shooting a n***a, pull that beam out Shots go right through his chest, rip his spleen out The doctors pull his dreams out, his mama… “f** that, Holla, I'll knock him clean out!” Say it again? f** it, I'ma remix it Chill ‘fore I flash one, remix that blast, son “Holla let me get him!” – nah, you f**ed up my last one “Holla let me get him!” – nah, you f**ed up my last one I'm thinking 'bout shooting a n***a, pull that beam out Shots go right through his chest, rip his spleen out Shots shots shots go right through his chest, rip his spleen out The doctors pull his dreams out, his mama… “f** that, Holla- f** that, Holla- f** that, Holla, I'll knock him clean out!” They ask why always use ShowwOutt as a prop Be-motherf**ing-cause That n***a ain't a prop, that's my motherf**ing blood Big Gerald raised us on that motherf**ing belt And said, "f** a fair fight, that other brother better help!" Speaking of fight, y'all thought that scuffle was fake and I hate that. It wasn't a big deal for real, y'all made it that Well, I'm calling n***as' bluff, Surf, let's have a cage match Can't nobody leave till a n***a dead; stage that Whole bunch of mics on his head; I parade that Uppercut and swing like an Atlanta Brave cat Tay Roc, keep my motherf**ing name out your mouth Lil n***a, I'll expose you If you need help just say you need help, I'll mold you It's either that or get a casket bed, they'll close you His b**h will have to open the box to see Roc, like a proposal Anybody taking bets, sh**, where the bets, clowns? I'ma let you in on a hint, this ain't even my best round What's big money to small change?! Two words after this: BALL GAME! [Round 2: Tsu Surf] See, that's where I can agree with you That n***a from B-more, sometimes I wanna clothesline him Dump him somewhere And let somebody nobody knows find him Cops and the dog, y'all wake me up when those find him Tay get a tombstone You see "Roc" on the rock, like Hov signed him Okay, I got caught with a strap, f** it, I did a bid with it Thank God they caught him for possession And they ain't catch him for what he did with it I'm wherever Yett Yett at, strap out, it ain't in the tuck You might have a Calico loaded with hollows So a good six rounds could just be beginner's luck I came to murder something I mean you got a few wins, yeah, that could be true But I also know ShowwOutt got just as many wins as you I can't be mad at ShowwOutt, but if you take Show out Nobody that catch the gun will catch you Somebody tell me, what this show 'bout? What you gon' do? Slide up on me like baggage claim? Re-remix then clap me up k**? Wait a minute, your lil brother took the tab on that Bill If I could reload with the same bullets that I shot with I'm about to stuff these Mossberg shells in this Glock clip Queen Latifah "Set It Off" mask, jump in the 380 Cops catch him, f** it, it was ugly, he could plead crazy Lock pick the door, “Errrrhhh!!” they sleep, baby See his son, “BAH!” I'll G Baby G' baby What, I need to remix it or somethin'? Nah, I won't Slide Smack a stack to get it in the building, you ain't getting far. f** I gotta put it in subtitles? You ain't get the bar? n***a you can't read, it ain't in the car This brand new Nina, who gon take one for the team? That was mean, hella body But this pump like a jump; that b**h down to hit everybody With a ladder long clip, that's for when we ride though That's your lil man? When we catch him he dyin', bro Hit him with a 60 second clip to the slide Show I got double 9's, my mans got double 9's, we'll shake sh** I'll let a round off from this semi tuck, that's a great flip He let a round off from that semi tuck, another great flip Boy, we'll put two and two together, like it make sense When was your last body? Phara and Shooney? That sh** bored me Only time I'm coming at two b**hes is in an orgy I just cop some new bullets, I call 'em edibles Is he a G? No, a Smith in his back will be terrible My logic is if I send 100 shots he can't duck 'em all Clip of hot peppers; Holla I'll pin yo' head to the f**ing wall And if I gotta ride or somethin', all black disguise or somethin' Timbos, cargos, mask with a 9 or somethin' You gon' need God, hiding tips from Saddam or somethin' Mike Brown; that boy gon' die for nothing [Round 2: Hitman Holla] You asked when's the last time I bodied. Phara and Shooney? When the last time you bodied a n***a? That n***a from the S.O.N.S.? Stop, y'all need to quit D boys the only n***as that brag about getting rid of bricks You had a cla**ic vers' Shine, but he ain't really sh** You shined vers' X, but that was really it My right hand man will shoot you, then plead the fifth. But why? When I can give my own shot, like I ain't need the pick My homie said “Who?” I said “All”, I ain't need to pick The scope, I went right through the screen Like I ain't need the switch Fresh out of retirement, yeah, they don't like that .45, bald head, they yelling "Mike back!" King of performance, yeah, they yelling "Mike back!" Worldstar TKO's, they yelling "Mike back!" k** one of mine, that's cool, I'm coming right back And k** two of yours and make you come get a life back That Internet beef you be on will get your wife snatched That money Smack gave you tonight will get your wife back So what if I'm whooping yo' a**, Surf… (fight back!) You be sleeping on Budden couch like that's your father Well, what's all that rappin' for? What's all that kidnapping n***as for bricks and all that trappin' for? Man, stop, I'll clap the 4 k** Surf, he gon' have to bury his son; I'll Jackson Joe Man, what time your girl get off? We in that van waitin' We all in the front yard like we landscapin' We all in your living room with the cans blazin' Boo bop, bop bop bop bop! Ain't Red your man? Just tell him give you that translation I watched Goodz big boy you What kind of star lets another n***a tell him go run a pack? What, you ain't have them gadgets blitty? Well, it's gon' be perfection how this KOD If Tsu's ever in me or Magic's city Oh, y'all ain't catch that? This Jersey girl getting zipped up In other words I got that metal on stage, like a strip club Random: but Suge so f**ing terrible I could've beat both of y'all, same night If they was on stage measuring hearts Me and Suge would be the same height Or Tsu Surf's gon be a watery d**h, broad day, plain sight His momma gon have to wear a bathing suit And scuba gear to visit the grave site If I use this heavy metal Y'all gon have the crowd Surf and ‘em in the ambulance f** y'all waiting on that subtitle or somethin'? I said if I use this heavy metal Y'all gon have to crowd surf him to the ambulance f** y'all waiting to remix that subtitle or something? I said if I use this heavy metal Y'all gon' have to crowd surf him to the… Crowd surf him to the…crowd surf him to the ambulance I'm just trying to get on the same page as you How Arsonal and Red left you booked? Shotgun made you ride solo? And these the n***as that's on stage with you?! That wasn't played well ‘Cause I guarantee if that was me; Magic, Ill and Verb would've spent every goddamn night in Detroit until I made bail It was four of them, one pistol… you was gon' raise hell? If it's four of us it's four pistols We would've all had to sit in that same cell But now it's “hee-hee-haa-haa”, man, that's weak sh** And how ironic that this college n***a whipping this hood n***a on some street sh** I mean, I could talked about how you be reach-- I'ma save that for round three, b**h! BALL GAME! [Round 3: Tsu Surf] I hear everything you saying But let's discuss something that's apparent Hitman Holla – cold k**a! But Gerald Fulton grew up with both parents Now, I'm not knocking having both parents But your situation wasn't the worst Like, everything Mommy ain't have on the 15th Daddy could cover on the 1st He probably taught you that 5 step drop back And that spiral almost amazingly I taught myself you gotta ease off that trigger slow Let that hammer up simultaneously He probably taught you about the birds and the bees Chlamydia, clap and all about crabs Man, them n***as was out the window with the bird Throwing out B's, clappin', calling out “Crabs!” You was at practice shooting, if you miss you do suicides Them n***as came through shooting That was our practice; if we miss that was suicide Every time I feel some type of way about my hood These family n***as be reminding me See, we both real n***as, but you a different kind to me Math, English, Lunch – you was on a different time than me I pull up; gym. I pull out; trigonometry You had X squared over Y Trying to find the remainder then add up I'm asking my ex “Why you asking me about numbers? I'm trying to bag up.” Your father probably bought your mother coat All your sports gear and your brother boots No football, these gloves wasn't for baseball This face mask was for other use Your mother was at the game, cardboard colors, fresh signs My mother was in pain "You wanna speak to the inmate, press 9." You get off the court, woo! Daddy right there: “Congratulations you did it.” I won't say I'm jealous But me and Mommy had to wait to Wednesday to kick it I know you won't get it, sh**, I have flashbacks when I spit it But Wednesday and Thursday, that was a**igned visits I just feel like Big Gerald John Witherspoon and you Craig What you doing with that Glock? I mean back on the West Side they ain't have guns We had these to rock I admit if I was in his position I probably would've stopped We got so much in common; both protected by them pops The moral of this story All that f**ing school and you ain't learn sh**! Put him in my hood one time, boy, and you'll turn b**h If Verb would've holla'd for my father He wouldn't have heard sh**! If you say you was wrestling in the streets You a Stone Cold Stunner You was home with your mother Watching wrestling: Rock, Raw, Chyna, Smackdown… We was in the trap house Raw, rock, china getting smacked down. Jersey! [Round 3: Hitman Holla] New Jersey was like the Celtics at one point in time Y'all had the Big 4: KG, Paul Pierce, Ray Allen and Rondo But y'all all split up and started falling off It was only a matter of time though I see y'all looking like, well, who's who? Ars, he was once MVP, so that's KG That's just right off the hunch, O-Red = Ray Allen ‘Cause he probably the deadliest shooter out of the bunch Won't y'all help me think of somebody for Suge? ‘Cause I'm trying I mean I could call Shotgun “The Truth”, but I'll be lying And Surf, you Rondo, not ‘cause you be running sh** It's ‘cause your first name Rajon Let's bring that back, us, them, it ain't hard to figure out Who the ops? Hitman vs Arsonal I got rid of that big ticket like I knew the cop After that battle they looked at St. Louis and believed us Hitman vs O-Red: I called him Ray Allen ‘Cause I sent that n***a to Jesus Hitman vs Shotgun Suge, I'ma need a serious check So that just leave Surf but, yet and still he ain't a serious threat ‘Cause I'm appalled how Rajon ain't been on point since his parents left Everything from AR's to Glocks in his face Chinese choppers, they sound different You could tell they not from the States “Brackow! Brackow”, sh** that'll make Barack leave the States My city got me paranoid So I'm shooting at any cop on the chase And if Qua jump in, he get it the same way I k**ed his dog, now me and Calicoe fighting the same case We two different Rugrats ‘Cause you a rat and you tell what you seen for a hobby I'm Angelica, that's ‘cause I get mean with the Tommy Y'all remember that Michael Jackson Motown glove? Well, I use that to clean up the shotty And left it on the scene… Cops thought a n***a Billie Jean'd at the homi You are in the middle of that *CH-CH*; that's CHURCH I mean, before y'all say I'm hating, just explain to me What 'church' had to do with that situation? Then you had the nerve to say “I'm too advance for these n***as, and it hurts” No, you just reach too f**ing much and they let it work Well, since they let you get away with it Let me try it, and I'ma do it worse Check, code name San Fran, that's 40 9's And when it burst, you are in the middle of that SF; that's SURF I see you over there looking like “That last sh** ain't hit like that?” But you would've screamed and went crazy When he say sh** like that Man, I got them thangs like Tambourines, we clap at who ever I treat your block like a URL card and smack it together They found his body so distorted he was backwards together Me and ShowwOutt the male version of Serena and Venus Same parents but we swing ratchets together I got some sh** that'll flip a n***a, he'll tumble on the spot I don't even drink, but I took some shots Then I stumbled to his pops I'm like “I brought them Nick Cannons, you know? Braataa Braataa, Brrrrrrrr-POP!” Man, I be feeling like a Piston in Detroit When I'm drummin' on the block You either gon' respect me or respect me, ain't no in and out Stay in your lane, don't cross over like an in-an-out It's real where I'm from You playing, you took the scrimmage route It's all fun till you laying with your ligaments out Surf, I'm a beast, peep, I bring extenders out A star that'll play with them birds; I took the Emmitt route You Crippin' on the net; in person, what that image 'bout? Mush him in his face I'm just trying to see what his n***as 'bout. Ball game!