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All battles performed by Compact
All my battle songs
was polluting my solo-song page
Song Info
Track Files
MP3
MP3 2.8 MB • 128 kbps • 0:00
Story behind the song
didn't even sign up for this battle
but oh well.. makes me feel wanted or something
yeah well.. peep it
Lyrics
Trigga Verse:
Take this R-4-G-3 and blast’a trigga
Animit sounds like a wack faster bigga
Unleash the fury- I got nothing to worry
This 'bitch is dead'- this 'vet' has 'something to bury'
I beat trigga once, got the K.O.
This boy 'sounds whiter' than fuckin 'Yayo'
Ill slay yo in his bay home- kids fucked
'Uppercut' you with 'obesity'- have some 'big ups'
Kid sux- you fix what? –admit- your doomed
Like 'fat joe' with 'heart attacks'- 'death will come soon'
'Run thru' this sons 'womb'- I 'know your bitch'
You have 'no balls'- what you 'cumin with?'
Im sonnin kid with stunning hits- lose ya breath
Like 'disassembled trails'- ur 'following loose steps'
Who’s next in this full set of upper cuts
Like 'sluts on their period'- this 'fucker sucks!'
Pucker up- u fuckin up- to test me
Like 'gay churches'- 'assholes' is what ur 'blessin'
You the best nerd- ill collect your carcass
Like 'extinct jails'- its 'weak' when ur 'bars hit'
You started a martyr to wreck u fast
Rearrange ya body wit ya chest in back
I’m the best infact- Im a check him fast
This guy wuz an alien fillin on men in black
R4G3 Verse:
You 'won on effex' by 'beating computers'
But he 'makes no sense' like 'spreading a rumor'
You fleeing like Buddha- you want no harm
How you gonna hold the mic if you got no arms?
You shot like bombs- you blow on site
'Pissin in Ziplocs' so ya 'flow is tight'
You hold the mic weak- you mop this place
Like 'black market cops'- im gonna 'stop the fake'
Im gonna rot this day with no spots to save
Making 'plans to get mean' so I 'plot on rage'
Im a top the hate- jump over you dicks
Only time hes on the streets is wit pogo sticks
Ill fold ya lips- now talk some trash
You were a bitch in a pound- til they bought ya ass
Your turning 20- that gives me 4 years
When u gotta punchin to make ur words clear
Im onto you- just listen to his track
He’s only gunna win from people kissin his ass
Rage aint nothing- plague is even weaker
Hes 'so outta style'- like 'carrying beepers'
He’s defeatable- I know it, ill prove it
Introduce u to a word- LOSING!
Combined Verse:
Listen to ludacris in comparison to rage
Now tell me, how can u punch in on stage
Go back cuz u lose ur breath- I can hear u now
But u cant do 10 tracks in 1 in front’a crowd
Now trigga’s a king- but has no crown
Rc’s like the towers- waitin to crumble now
Handed me the league- cuz he cant handle no more
Cuz his 'site layout' makes 'no sense' like 'sandles in doors'
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