Kyd Slade vs. Bad Newz lyrics

[Round 1: Bad Newz]
n*gga, get ya wig popped!
Or call me Chauncey, 'cause I'm a Big Shot
I'm spoiled as a man
That just mean I could double them toys that Kyd (kid) got
If your b*tch pregnant, I won't shoot at her stomach
She gettin' a rib shot
Even though we don't go to war to (water) break, we wait it out
And nine months later, Kyd (kid) drop!
If we did box, you'll get hit wit' a 1-2-1-2, I'll mic check ya
Y'all remember them glow-up sneakers we had comin' up in the '90s?
Yeah, Kyd (kid) a light stepper
I mean, I be wishin' I could bang a gavel and get a judge life
You think 'cause you gon' say my real namе Antwan, they gon' believе you livin' some thug's life?
Well, any body could go in the dirt if it's dug right
No hesitation, we be shootin' in secs (insects): it's A Bug's Life
It ain't nothin' you could do for me
Kevin Hart was the only time we seen Kyd (Kid) catch a body, and that's a True Story
For these loudmouth n*ggas, I push a button, this gun'll mute for me
But I'm a star - why you think all these n*ggas will shoot for me?
Last week, I won that Underdog belt versus J2
This week, it's some different kind bud: I'm smokin' K, too (K2)
If you disrespect the man in me, you gon' die by the hands of me
It's like a custody hearing
Yeah, 'cause the Kyd (kid) got Bad Newz, then separated from his family!
I'm like that cool auntie we all got
I ain't got no problems wit' takin' Kyd (kid)
But that's besides the point
I can assist wit' your passin': Jason Kidd
n*gga, you trap, right?
I used to rob n*ggas, and all trappers hate when that day come
You know, the stick up, Kyd (kid)
I'm them n*ggas you stay away from!
You can't trap in these streets forever
What, you don't get it, my G?
Your b*tch sayin' she havin' nightmares somethin' bad gon' happen, right?
Newsflash: she talkin' 'bout n*ggas like me!
My Plan A was come in this sh*t, f*ckin' scorch you
If that ain't work, Plan B
This b*tch'll peel (pill) and abort you!
n*gga, this ain't even a real showing for me
It's just a walkthrough
Since I got the belt, I'm Beasley in this battle rap sh*t
The n*gga that everybody wanna talk to!
Heh-heh, heh-heh
That boy must be from Atlanta the way I Hawk him down
Searchin', at his miss place (misplace), for Kyd (kid) sh*t in a box
This the lost-and-found
Smack, Slade postin' my bail the only time he can out-bar me
So if Kyd (Kid) Play, BLAOW! I'm f*ckin' up the House Party!
I'm a problem
n*ggas know I specialize in robbin'
The jackboys I be with ain't no Goonies - them n*ggas goblins
E'rrybody say they outside
But when we outside, them n*ggas hidin'
Over bull, you'll get your top painted like Dennis Rodman's
I had to get it out the mud, n*gga!
You always braggin' 'bout your plug, n*gga
I was shysty (Shiesty) before Pooh
You gotta get it 'Back In Blood', n*gga!
It's extortion
But I'm reasonable 'cause I'm a drug dealer
Boy, I'll rob you, then sell your sh*t back to you
Now I'm your plug, n*gga!
I know a lotta my fans was sayin' he gon' beat me, prob'ly
Well, after this, if anybody still got Slade here (slayed hair)...Geechi Gotti
You know the bundles, bruh
I'm a winner (winter), a cold n*gga
You better bundle up
I'm seasoned, and all them (autumn) n*ggas ain't got no heat
It's just some of (summer) us
I feel like I'm pet-trainin' today: dawg practiced
And what you say real? They should be able to understand if you talk backwards
You like to talk about money and drugs, I talk ratchets
They call me "Newz" 'cause I witnessed a lotta sh*t, but I never broadcast it!
This all passion! Mixed wit' a lotta real sh*t
They think 'cause I don't cry at funerals, I don't feel sh*t
Now that had my head wrapped, got me real sick (Real Sikh)
Just know, per mission (permission), we slidin', Kyd (kid)
Yeah, it sound like a field trip
Like hearin' that your moms died, this Newz (news) hard to deal wit'
I done killed more rappers than the record labels that they deal wit', n*gga!
I don't do co-de's, n*gga, 'cause they'll get you f*cked up
See, that's why I run alone, aight?
I know your family still call you "Kyd"
We gon' treat him like he grown tonight
If this Internet gangsta tell me it's on-site, then I'm up, loadin' Chrome tonight!
Smack, tell his mom she can cut that porch light off
Her lil' Kyd (kid) ain't comin' home tonight!
Hey, yo, all you n*ggas fake
Just for sleepin' on me, I'm finna make all you n*ggas wakes
My opps? Be turnin' up in Heaven together
They be throwin' parties at the Gates
I can tell you been through a lot
Benjamin Button: tonight, Kyd (kid) 'bout to look 40 in the face!
n*gga, get brave!
I'll snatch your son, stick a knife in his ribcage
You won't even have to identify his body
They knew he was yours by the way I left the kid slayed!
I'll rob you right after this sh*t
You won't get paid
'Cause just like every other kid that was born on Earth, n*gga, you b*tch-made
I had to show you it's levels in this sh*t, n*gga, that you ain't playin' wit' me on
And show you, Smack, ain't nothin' special 'bout your Kyd (kid)
n*gga, you ain't Raising Dion
GunTitles, what up?
[Round 1: Kyd Slade]
Name anything you do in this ring a n*gga can't do
And I'm talkin', like, way better
So vers' your trash ass, n*gga, I really can't lose
Dark-skinned or not, once I hit him, I bet his face bruise
And then it's 'bows to the mouthpiece
You know...Wojanowski
n*gga, I'm finna break Newz (news)
I'm all wit' it
And if it's smoke wit' my n*ggas, then b*tch, I'm all in it
The clip in the stick got a curve, so this sh*t long-winded
Banned Legacy...y'all remember how they surprised Joe Pesci?
This won't be no different
Bat swing, your dome dented
Gats ring, do home visits
Bro, listen, I don't know much about y'all team
But f*ck a friend, 'cause we'd rather spend time wit' all fiends
Bro, please
Just stay in your place or fours squeeze
I spin your block and then bend back like horse knees
You n*ggas perpin'
You and G Lowe them two Cave Gang n*ggas that everybody consider worthless
You clip the right n*gga in the middle of war, that's how you leave him hurtin'
So it's only right we grab the Sweepers and slide on Roc(k) like it's Olympic curling
Clip your leader, 'cause in the middle of war, that's how you make 'em suffer
You see, the streets paid bills and put food on the table
Did everything but love us
n*ggas recompressin' coke, puttin' fent' on they dope tryna inflate the numbers
While we open up corner stores and trap out them b*tches until they take 'em from us
You don't get it off like that
And most of you bum-ass n*ggas is too broke to even talk like that!
Man, I remember when Gorilla Glue first came around
We was in grind mode
'Cause you know when a new drug get hot, you s'posed to go and cop, then bring that sh*t to yo' block
That's how that grind go
n*gga, we had the best Glue in town
Off the visual, they was mind-blown
I'm talkin' white hairs on the Gorilla like Congo!
Man, your thing is your thing
And my thing? That's my thing
Until I like what you doin' wit' yo' thing and make it our thing
So stay calm, 'cause you ain't wit' it, bro
Or to God is where you fixed to go
Revolver, I creep wit' a old ratchet like a gigolo
It's problems? I'm hittin' bro
We mob wit' the semis low
sh*t look like a Roku screensaver the way we slide through the city slow
Listen, bro
Seven, n*gga
Listen, bro
I know you built your hype as a bully
But no f*ck sh*t - man, you finna lose your life to the rookie
Man, get it right
'Cause I'll clip you in plain sight wit' the fully
In front of everybody
And make Newz (news) go viral like "f*ck her right in the pus*y!"
I grip the .40
Upgraded the strap, got somethin' different on me
The God elevated, but they don't get the story
Brand new chains and new cars, man, this the glory
Now it's Kyd (kid) in the spaceship wit' crazy grams like Rick & Morty
Duel Hecklers!
I'll run down and have a goon stretch ya
Tell my shooter "Put a 'K on this n*gga"
He shoulda knew better
BANG!
I really hope you got your gun on you, fool
'Cause f*ck a 30 - we tryna empty out a drum on dudes
That's a hunnid
sh*t, I got one and they got one on, too
So when we wavin' cans, it's Anchorman
My n*ggas finna dumb on Newz (news)
And this a one-off, too
So don't say sh*t while I'm rappin'
Or front about gettin' no money
'Cause wit' that thin-ass nameplate, dawg, it's clear that you cappin'
I been in six houses trappin'
And I been 'bout that action
I put 60 grams of cut on 30 grams of coke
n*gga, that's an improper fraction!
Stop actin' bold!
Before I shoot, chip half your dome
Then it's Sunday paper in Bedrock
I'll leave Newz (news) on a slab of stone
That's a graveyard visit
Your car flip, you see a AR kickin'
I know 12, different agent but still Jake like the State Farm n*gga
It's G-O-D
If your life f*cked up, I'll put some hope in it
I'm the God - say my name in vain (vein), I'mma put some dope in it
Plug Talk
Go f*ckin' re-up or somethin', you heard?