Swamp vs. Fonz lyrics

[Round 1: Fonz]
I said outta nowhere, Truth Watson tried to add me on IG
I said, “Damn, why me?”
b*tches gotta be writin’ together
f*ck you got, the whole Carolina locked in?
‘Cause this was ‘posed to be Fonz vers’ Nitty
They was ‘posed to bring the quarterback to the Land but y’all stopped it
Listen, this might rub y’all the wrong way, but I’on care how he may feel (Mayfield)
I know that these hoes plottin’
And it don’t matter how many b*tches gave him a hand
This ain’t gon’ be no happy ending, you see how I’m talkin’ to Shaun (Deshaun), Watson?
Stay on the sideline watchin’
Y’all can’t stop it
You dudes all frail
Oh you the same n*gga in real life that you is on the internet?
Well the next time they search for him
They gon’ say he ain’t get that third W on URL
n*gga this me, to beat me you gon’ really have to switch your whole game
You can’t just rap about pitchin’ cocaine
Yea you was clickin’ against Webb, Paige (webpage)
But this sh*t here a whole different domain
I got extraordinary aim
f*ck around and see a lame shot down
Atlanta what up

[Crowd]
WHAT UP!
[Fonz]
If he come up missin’ in the 404, then they gon’ say it’s a URL error when Paige (page) not found
How the f*ck you got the game locked down, when your simple ass skills don’t amount to my craft
You chased Top for years, got in the ring and just talked about ounces of crack
No punches, no schemes, no angles, even ya outfit was wack
Screamin’, “We from South Carolina”, while showin’ us everything that a South cat could lack (Cackalack)
Facts
This n*gga too sweet
Would’ve been put Paige (page) in a pack, but I was tryna turn a new leaf
Smack, after the way the Bear killed him, you still investin’ in this goofy?
We already gave the b*tch Top and got nothin’ in return: n*gga QP
Stop it b*tch
“Unicycle, I don’t need bars”
And you clowns out here ridin’ wit’ that awkward sh*t?
I’m not convinced
I don’t care how many of these muthaf*ckas you rockin’ wit’
Not one of these country n*ggas gon’ convince me your content it (continent)
But y’all gas him like he spazzin’ wit’ the hottest sh*t
Me, I can’t be fake wit’ him
“A simple ass battle rapper” what the game done labeled him
And this my brother too, I gotta kill him
‘Cause I can’t enable (Cain and Abel) him
So you mean to tell me, if he ask [?] then the game’ll favor him
Well f*ck it lemme try it
Ayy mane, yo’ baby would be my baby momma but her coochie dry
I hop out wit’ the drac’ (Drake): that’s the Toosie Slide
It’s finna get dark around this b*tch: Lil Boosie eye
And y’all just gas him, that is givin’ me the groupie vibes
If y’all think he better than DG, Chaos, or Truth, y’all some goofy guys
They only f*ck wit’ this wack b*tch ‘cause his accent
And it don’t get you a lil’ p*ssed that they keep callin’ you T.I. (UTI)
{Time is called}

[Smack White]
Ohh sh*t
It’s gettin’ hot in here, it’s gettin’ real
First round
South Carolina stand the f*ck up
Swamp it’s on you, let’s get it
Smrrrrack

[Round 1: Swamp]
I said b*tch I’m the same n*gga in real life that I am on the internet
Now first off
We both made it this far, my n*gga
Ain’t no way this sh*t coincidental
We both a part of the same class so no matter the outcome, I’m rootin’ for ya
Plain and simple
I walked in the buildin’ wit’ my head down like, “Damn, ain’t no way I’m finna kill him”
Then thought about a hunnid grand like f*ck all dat, n*gga only my gun gettin’ sent to mental (sentimental)
For less than a hunnid K, I done killed for it
So even after a hunnid K, Ima be still for it
This is about to be a bad body
But from the looks of this fat slack-ass n*gga, he already built for it
Y’all done f*cked up and let me get my head back in the game around this b*tch
Like I’m really pullin’ up just to battle n*ggas
Not to see if I can push a lil’ weed or sell some cocaine at the event
My grandma told me to tell you you need ya ass beat for playin’ wit’ the Bible
I told her I’m ready to pull up on the pastor for a week straight: it’s revival
These fake ass preachers make me question faith
But that’s cool, tonight we gon’ set the record straight
Then skip pastor Fonz (past the fines) like we doin’ church wit’ the collection plate
This n*gga ‘bout to be dead and gone
The last battle, it was “Paige (page) this, Paige (page) that”
n*gga flipped Paige (page) too fast and read me wrong
Do you know what happened to the last Landlord that didn’t give me an extension?
He seen an extension
His whole family in the hospital like “Lord, please, not now; we need an extension”
Listen Fonz, I’m nothin’ like these other muthaf*ckas: I’m exclusive
They say it’s no fun ‘til the rabbit got the gun, and now I’m shootin’
You got the W, but you left Chris Brown house wit’ No Guidance
And now it’s Deuces
You fat Black son of a b*tch
You need to weight-watch
Quit runnin’ behind Nitty and catch up to Hitman Holla
Ya whole career been straight props
We watched you dress like a chef for ‘Wing, then a pastor for Pristavia
n*gga you done showed us more costumes than Tay Roc
Listen
For the past week, I heard that him and Sheed been besties
How zesty, but I already know that is your man
Whatever y’all boys was cookin’ up, I really truthfully hope that ain’t the plan
‘Cause truth be told, I’ll shoot both them b*tches wit’ some big sh*t
And y’all all know the outcome if this Happen to Land
I got a hitter that’s nice
And he gon’ shoot a movie if I pay the ticket
You know, send him a (cinema) price
We was sparrin’ the last couple-a rounds of the tournament
Now I gotta shoot this fat b*tch where his heart be
It’s crazy, you was Just a Friend, now you dyin’ like Biz Markie
Rap, you fat b*tch
[Round 2: Fonz]
Ayy, real sh*t
The same n*ggas that was here when I first met you, is the same n*ggas that’s still here
And they ain’t switch on me neither
So if we get to scrappin’, they slidin’ through this b*tch wit’ the heaters
Ayy y’all remember that scene from Heartbeats?
When Duck had writer’s block and that chick was tryna clean up
Well n*gga this sh*t is ether
‘Cause I’ll ball Paige (page) the f*ck up and my n*ggas still assist wit’ the sweeper
b*tch I’m the reaper
I could really be extortin’ the game
Family members come up missin’ and that’s such an unfortunate thang
When you gotta cremate your mother
Yea she goin’ in a box and we gon’ see Shaun pour the (Shawn Porter) remains
I be torturin’ lames
You gon’ wish you was not the opp
Jumanji: a lotta n*ggas had heart (Hart) in this game
But that won’t stop me from rockin’ (Rock in) Swamp
This gon’ drock ya stock- this gon’ drop y- this gon’ drop ya st-
That won’t stop me from rockin’ (Rock in) Swamp
This gon’ drop y- this gon’ drop- this-
Stop me from rockin’ (Rock in) Swamp
That won’t- that won’t stop me from rockin’ (Rock in) Swamp

[Smack White]
Hold it down
Hold it down, he got it

[Fonz]
I said this gon’ wop- this gon’ drop ya-
This gon’ drop ya stock
Hate- n*ggas hatin’ on me and I ain’t gotta tell ‘em they wrong
I ain’t sayin’ y’all can celebrate- can’t celebrate, holmes
But they said I had to elevate for this battle
Why would y’all bring a Landlord to the Swamp and not expect me to elevate, holmes (homes)
What the hell is they on
Real sh*t, I ain’t tryna play you
Nitty killed you; material wise, it was a big separation: the Alien ate (alienate) you
I mean dawg it’s a difference
I was lookin’ at the judges like, y’all n*ggas trippin’
Play that sh*t wit’ me, b*tch I’m palmin’ a biscuit
Show up dressed like Pastor Fonzel
Wit’ a hammer and a (in the) Bible like Shawshank Redemption
How y’all got it twisted
When I’m the one that’s sick in the- sick in the head-
When I’m the one that’s sick in the head
Shaun get hit wit’ some lead
Now they gotta get Paige (page) a doctor or either give [?]
n*ggas is dead
Just when you thought your team lucked up
I took ‘em all to the ledge
And let everybody go: Remy Ma when the stream f*cked up
They said all I do is punch, n*gga stop it
And if all I do is punch, then

[Crowd]
n*gga block it

[Fonz]
It’s up for n*ggas
I don’t care if you came in this b*tch wit’ a bunch of killers
Lieutenant Dan: lose your legs defendin’ a (the) country n*gga
Clutch a trigger
Run when the gauge is burstin’
You said you the same n*gga in real life?
I seen you argue wit’ Piranha on Facebook, and then changed in person
Play them games wit’ me, you better pray they have amazin’ surgeons
Scope on the rifle, eyes on top of Swamp: that’s a ‘gator lurkin’
K’s is burstin’
Or I come through wit’ a black Beamer, MAC ring
I don’t care who witchu
I get your partner shipped (partnership) wit’ a Drac’ (Drake): Caffeine
That’s mean

{Time is called}

[Round 2: Swamp]
I said
You can cook a b*tch a lasagna and she still gon’ ask where the spaghetti at
Buy her all the finest jewelry, you know, the baguette set
She prolly gon’ walk away from you right after you save her from a deadly threat
And I hate that b*tch Lori Harvey
But just like Lori Harvey, this fat b*tch just ain’t ready yet
I don’t give a f*ck if you go to jail for 10 years, you try some f*ck sh*t wit’ me
Ima be posted
Wit’ a ugly ass ratchet like [?], until that f*ck n*gga free
You play 2K? I slap fat-ass n*ggas like you in my downtime
Or let somethin’ ring off in his ear; now he got a sound mind
To make it this far in the tournament, I’m glad you made it
But truth be told, I’m not that fascinated
Everything this boy rap about be fabricated
And didn’t yo’ son just walk across f*ckin’ stage?
Now you up here gettin’ cap and gown two weeks after his graduation
This the typa n*gga that make you want to f*ckin’ stab him
I Never Liked You
Kick in the door of ya hotel and catch you sleep on the cover like Future f*ckin’ album
My n*ggas don’t give a f*ck about nothin’ but me
They don’t care about you lil’ cupcake actors
That’s why if it’s any Trouble while I’m in ATL, they gon’ Duct Tape rappers
These n*ggas don’t really f*ck witchu for real
They really only f*ck witchu because of your punches
I think you been false claimin’ the Land this whole time, like Christopher Columbus
You punch n*ggas in battles, I punch n*ggas in real life
This n*gga here just be tryin’ sh*t
But before I had a pistol, I had brass knuckles; I really was out here rulin’ wit’ the iron fist
I’m locked in this time; last time I ain’t liked the predictions
Plus the last time I ignored fines (Fonz), I got my license suspended
If you win this f*ckin’ battle, in the parkin’ lot, you gon’ have to see me prob’ly
I’ll put hands on yo’ b*tch ass and admit to it, like Greedy Gotti
Y’all gon’ start respectin’ me the minute that I step in
Or be left to bleed wit’cho best friend
The 7.62’ll knock a oz. outta Fonz, then Ima leave wit’ the FN
As far as this tournament
The rest of this tournament, ass-whippings is the only thing that I’m handin’ out
I know y’all prolly wonderin’ how many “Land” lines (landlines) I got
sh*t more than yo’ granny house
This where the sh*t gets scary
Funerals, obituaries…
You cross me, I throw a cross in the Land: it’s a cemetary
Soon as he open the do’, the shotgun made him jump back
Steel (still) waitin’ for him like “Brizz come back”

{Time is called}

Rap, fat b*tch

f*ck that damn clock man
f*ck that damn clock
Damn I had ‘bout two mo’

[Round 3: Fonz]
How many kids you got, bro?

[Swamp]
None of yo’ f*ckin’ business bruh

[Fonz]
‘Cause they actin’ like you loaded, man
They say yo’ baby mamas switch faster than COVID strains
Imagine Swamp leavin’ daycare wit’ like eight of them lil’ mu’f*ckas all holdin’ hands
I say damn
Just when I thought you SC (USC) n*ggas was Trojan fans
You bogus, man

He really can’t f*ck wit’ me bruh
Stop playin’ wit’ me bruh

You bogus, man
We already seen what humbled you: child support
You had that [?] on your mind, but if you win that hunnid K, n*gga this gon’ be ya BM W (BMW)
‘Cause you be lockin’ these hoes down, movin’ like a actual diva
c*mmin’ in these hoes
If you don’t pull out, Paige (page), then that mean you tryna trap a (Trapper) Keeper
I watched your battle wit’ Top like why my dawg gettin’ cooked like this?
He said you put your hands on your woman, not your opp
And your response was “All I did was shook that b*tch”
I’on care how you put that sh*t
We don’t want to hear nothin’ ‘bout Hustle and Flow until you tell us why you whooped (Whoop) That Trick
Boy I will hook off quick
And smack spit out this wack b*tch
The MAC rip
They gon’ have to do a fish fry when this b*tch die to stack chips
And the obituary say “same n*gga in real life that he was on the internet”, too
But to pay for the funeral, they gon’ have to sell catfish
Don’t talk to me ‘bout no trap sh*t
We get active, this just a reminder
Whether it’s Cleveland or Carolina
I had bowls on the table
To get my dinner set, b*tch I had to find (fine) China
Killed DG so bad, y’all had to switch y’all lineup
Now this blade gettin’ stuck in another country(,) n*gga; free Brittney Griner
Your whole clique get lined up
I’m accurate wit’ a stick
Catch you lackin’, I’m clappin’ you wit’ this b*tch
You worked in the automotive department?
Well I was known to change a tire (attire) too
That’s after I hit the lick
And these large cans
Squeeze a mop on a opp ‘til they all dead
Act like you finna swing over Swamp
They gon’ hear a b*tch screamin’: that’s Tarzan
Dawg dead
Caught him lackin’, he wasn’t movin’ like a boss
My shooters knocked him off
f*ck Swamp Town, I’ll put a gator on a tee
It don’t matter what the funeral’ll cost (Lacoste)
This the reason I say you lost
And ya bars is light
‘Cause you told Nitty, “He just a little muthaf*cka wit’ a lotta mouth: Charleston White”
And the crowd went wild, I said dawg goodnight
If it was me, I woulda told him how I got a co- connect in Carolina who was chargin’ right
He from south of the border, got fire work, so if you say cheese involved, then we can get the whole Charleston White
I been coulda killed you
But they was tellin’ the timin’ was not right
But he the one y’all think deservin’ the spotlight?
Or is P the one tryna save him and ain’t no preservin’ the Swamp life

{Time called}

[Smack White]
Give it up for Fonz
Give it up for Fonz
Give it up for Fonz
Last round, Swamp it’s on you
Let’s get it

[Round 3: Swamp]
Most these n*ggas be lyin’ like a muthaf*cka
Get up here rappin’ just for play
He told y’all don’t believe in my trappin’
Ask him, I sold this muthaf*cka weed yesterday

Facts or nah
Facts or nah
Facts or nah, n*gga
The f*ck wrong wit’ that n*gga
The f*ck
Facts or nah, n*gga

Ayy, I really be up here rappin’ my life, no fabricated sh*t neither do I need a book of secrets
That’s why I could look in the eyes of the devil Grandson and know he seen the look of demons
That boy I stood over, but chose not to damn kill him and let him die slow
That was the last time my kindness got took for weakness
This battle rap sh*t is made up; I don't got time to figure out what’s real or fake
Plus why don’t the damn Landlord at least own a proper tee (property)
I don’t give a f*ck what kinda sh*t you own, that’s just something that the realer state (real estate)
I been f*cked up in my mind
I was f*cked up in my mind in my household
I could realilly- I could really relate to JC
I had to learn how to hide choppers (chompers) and smile wit’ my mouth closed
I move my clients up the street to another spot
Brand new iPhone charger: sometimes the plug came wit’ a whole new other block
These muthaf*ckas seen a lightskin n*gga on the block sellin’ dope and immediately wanted to act tough wit’ me
Not knowin’ I had a big-ass Glock 40 for my company
Plus, sellin’ cocaine was cool, but it wasn’t ‘til I put my wrist in the pot that I realized the dope was everything that it was cracked up to be
Y’all muthaf*ckas better be glad I don’t got time to break down and be explainin’ sh*t
I was over the stove wit’ the eyes lit up at my hands lookin’ like Doctor Strange and sh*t
My P.O. never tripped when he found a lil’ raw in my system
Hell nah I ain’t sniffin’
He know I go hard as a chemist
And bare dope hand to hand transaction was all just a part of my livin’
This battle rap sh*t is only a outlet
In the streets, I be ready to bust a muthaf*cka head
We both lost brothers throughout this battle rap tourney
But the thing about the brother I lost, he ain’t even f*ckin’ dead
You might want to thank me
You need to thank me
I stopped this n*gga from doin’ some of the lamest sh*t
Last time you came downstairs in them gay ass hoochie daddy shorts, I said, “Go back upstairs and change that sh*t”
You might want to thank me
The way they treat this new class, I ain’t havin’ that sh*t
I beat Rum Nitty for you, muthaf*cka
So later on down the road, you can get a proper bag for that sh*t
I told these n*ggas
I was gon’ kick yo’ ass, and the sh*t was gon’ be tragic
They always say Swamp just a walk in the park
They don’t mention that sh*t Jurassic
Rap, muthaf*cka

[Smack White]
Give it up for Fonz
Ya nah mean?
Two of my babies
Yo man, I appreciate both of y’all so much
Yo I appreciate both of y’all so much
South Carolina, Cleveland
You heard
Yo I f*ck wit’ y’all for real