Tay Roc vs JC by URLtv Lyrics

Quote from the song “Tay Roc vs JC” by URLtv

Just know in one of these rounds I'ma do you somethin' tragic
Which means either you gone get bodied or have a fuckin' classic
I’m the one that spazzes
Treat every battle like Summer Madness
Sleep on me 'til that comfy bed become a casket
Faggot, did Smack sign you up to die or what?
Good with the clippers, I bet he fade when I line him up
The 9 is tucked and this iron buck
If you try your luck like you’re drunk
Take a shot to the head: that’s bottoms up
I’m bein' blunt, but you ain’t high enough
I’m the type to kick it with you then kick in ya door and tie you up
I caught him with his bitch, I had time enough
I whipped out my blade and laid my MAC down
She knew I wasn’t tryna fuck
Goon shit, in this hockey mask like a Mighty Duck
With a hockey stick I’m treatin' his head like a hockey puck
His head woulda had enough knots, but that’s not enough
I beat this nigga like the soda machine when my dollar’s stuck
We take change like a Spade’s game, get your diamonds cut
We strapped with them ladders in the whip: that’s a fire truck
That shotty dump, leave drama slumped
Docs ain’t seen nobody with this many bucks on him since Donald Trump
Time is up, let me catch you with your soft squad
I take every shot with no assist: I’m a ballhog
I don’t leave a witness to call log
Like I’ll get you hit with a sawed-off
And every nigga that saw off’d
That’s wordplay, I got plenty more though
Like if it’s war and they send me, all you’ll get hit with a semi-auto
This nigga act up tonight, he won’t see tomorrow
Money shoulda left me alone like I need to borrow
Dig me? You an actual dead guy
Gun Bar King, niggas get clapped when the lead fly
You’ll be suited lookin' like a bachelor just died
Leave you layin' in a casket that’s half of his bed size
That’s how I pray for all of them
Your daughter and ya aunt and them
You gotta call 9-11, my niggas plain bomb on them
I’m like fuck you and your squadron
I always look in a bul's eye when I’m targetin'
Pardon him but dude is trippin'
'Til I turn into Bishop off this Juice I’m sippin'
But the difference
I can shoot through houses with this tool I’m grippin'
These choppers hold extensions, but this new edition
Through the scope I could hit kids, I got super vision
I can clear a lot when this Uz' sprayed off
I went to Newark and dropped a K and copped a new AR
That’s two guns to knock his toupee off
I let one ring, one on hold: that’s a two-way call
You ain’t hard, I don’t believe whatever you confess
I got navigation for whatever you address
I’ll get you robbed for whatever you have left
Like exorcisms, takin' him off of whatever he posses
I got bars, gun line after gun line, in fact
You saw what I did to the last rookie from Pontiac
I sent his soul where Rich Dolarz at
You see URL need some type of Magic to bring that Zombie back
I fuck niggas up, more than likely a fag dyin'
I’ll leave a golf ball hole in one when I grab iron
JC, you ran into Roc at a bad timin'
You the second Pontiac I fucked up, I got bad drivin'
I take what I want, there’s no askin' him
I couldn’t wait to punch his mic around, Joe Jackson him
It’s only right that I’m toe taggin' him, close casket him
Have bullets goin' in and out of Carter: dope traffickin'

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Official Music Video Song “Tay Roc vs JC”

URLtv - “Tay Roc vs JC” (Official Video Clip)

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Credits, Cast & Crew of Song “Tay Roc vs JC”

• Featuring: JC (Battle Rapper), Tay Roc
• Produced: Chico (URL), Smack White, Eric Beasley, Norbes
• Written: JC (Battle Rapper), Tay Roc
• Release Date: December 14, 2013

Perfect Lyrics of the Song “Tay Roc vs JC” Released in 2013

[Favorite Song Lyrics: song “Tay Roc vs JC” with perfect lyrics for karaoke]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]

Just know in one of these rounds I'ma do you somethin' tragic
Which means either you gone get bodied or have a fuckin' classic
I’m the one that spazzes
Treat every battle like Summer Madness
Sleep on me 'til that comfy bed become a casket
Faggot, did Smack sign you up to die or what?
Good with the clippers, I bet he fade when I line him up
The 9 is tucked and this iron buck
If you try your luck like you’re drunk
Take a shot to the head: that’s bottoms up
I’m bein' blunt, but you ain’t high enough
I’m the type to kick it with you then kick in ya door and tie you up
I caught him with his bitch, I had time enough
I whipped out my blade and laid my MAC down
She knew I wasn’t tryna fuck
Goon shit, in this hockey mask like a Mighty Duck
With a hockey stick I’m treatin' his head like a hockey puck
His head woulda had enough knots, but that’s not enough
I beat this nigga like the soda machine when my dollar’s stuck
We take change like a Spade’s game, get your diamonds cut
We strapped with them ladders in the whip: that’s a fire truck
That shotty dump, leave drama slumped
Docs ain’t seen nobody with this many bucks on him since Donald Trump
Time is up, let me catch you with your soft squad
I take every shot with no assist: I’m a ballhog
I don’t leave a witness to call log
Like I’ll get you hit with a sawed-off
And every nigga that saw off’d
That’s wordplay, I got plenty more though
Like if it’s war and they send me, all you’ll get hit with a semi-auto
This nigga act up tonight, he won’t see tomorrow
Money shoulda left me alone like I need to borrow
Dig me? You an actual dead guy
Gun Bar King, niggas get clapped when the lead fly
You’ll be suited lookin' like a bachelor just died
Leave you layin' in a casket that’s half of his bed size
That’s how I pray for all of them
Your daughter and ya aunt and them
You gotta call 9-11, my niggas plain bomb on them
I’m like fuck you and your squadron
I always look in a bul's eye when I’m targetin'
Pardon him but dude is trippin'
'Til I turn into Bishop off this Juice I’m sippin'
But the difference
I can shoot through houses with this tool I’m grippin'
These choppers hold extensions, but this new edition
Through the scope I could hit kids, I got super vision
I can clear a lot when this Uz' sprayed off
I went to Newark and dropped a K and copped a new AR
That’s two guns to knock his toupee off
I let one ring, one on hold: that’s a two-way call
You ain’t hard, I don’t believe whatever you confess
I got navigation for whatever you address
I’ll get you robbed for whatever you have left
Like exorcisms, takin' him off of whatever he posses
I got bars, gun line after gun line, in fact
You saw what I did to the last rookie from Pontiac
I sent his soul where Rich Dolarz at
You see URL need some type of Magic to bring that Zombie back
I fuck niggas up, more than likely a fag dyin'
I’ll leave a golf ball hole in one when I grab iron
JC, you ran into Roc at a bad timin'
You the second Pontiac I fucked up, I got bad drivin'
I take what I want, there’s no askin' him
I couldn’t wait to punch his mic around, Joe Jackson him
It’s only right that I’m toe taggin' him, close casket him
Have bullets goin' in and out of Carter: dope traffickin'

[Round 1: JC]

Ayy, this a big business
You gotta become a savage in seconds
Make a lastin' impression and stick with it
Now this could either help you or harm you
And I ain't exactly been known for gift givin'
Besides, every arm I've ever lent done had clips in it
Now you can stand here and act like this can't turn up
You've been awfully quiet
But if I get bored with you, a board hit you, nigga I'll start a riot
I tried to tell him right when he signed he was out of his mind
But y'all wanna ignore this shit, now I'm torchin' the 5th
They gone have to wrap him up
And get spatulas for what the coroners missed
Now them basic rhymes
But I'm facin' time for these innovative lines
They played rewind, said you was nice, basically lyin'
Now you get all throwaways, watch, just for wastin' my time
One call, your fam missin', I'm van whippin'
He usin' a bus pass, I pass bustin' past the bus
Caught him in public tran-slippin'
But what you want me to do?
You want me to flip your little bars and tell you who you lost to? See, that's where these boys lost
I ain't even give a fuck about who you were until the coin toss
But they all know me, right? And dog not waitin'
And a portion of that come from my Kevorkian practise
I damn near lost all my patience
Now to them, that could mean absolutely nothin'
To him, that's a bad life
That passion gone get him past Christ
When niggas see the shit from my pen, men ship-jump
I write that nice! (penmanship)
A nigga showed me a picture of Roc
And said "You wanna throw darts for fun?"
I said elaborate, he showed me a list of names, said target one
I said you know what? I don't care about NONE of them niggas
He said you sound like all of us
So y'all talk to son and let him know y'all knew he was a bitch before I called him one
But y'all think this a match? Well y'all trippin'
You the reason kings sacrifice pawns nigga
Push that button, all you gone see is men in black and cars flippin'
Y'all victims, y'all can play that
But we're preditors, we breed better, y'all need effort
Even though they sayin' your quotes
They think you a joke: you Heath Ledger
Now let's just say this a even match
And believe in fact you are nice and they didn't lie
You got me, so you don't know
Whether you're bein' rewarded or penalized
Let's get it simplified
They don't want you ahead, they wanted yo head
To disarm a unarmed G
And the fact that they even wanna broadcast this broad's cast is beyond me
But this is way more than a step down for me
This is a free fall, no parachute
But a pair of Paramount picture sized clips
That's what I've prepared for you
Now apparently he don't know what I mean by Paramount
So picture this…
A shot from each hammer across you: that's a pair amount
No, picture this: one arm for each half of his crew, I'll pair 'em out
Pop a flare
Y'all gone let these broke niggas die like ObamaCare
This my section
And when I get to dissectin' this dyke's section
He gone die in seconds
Prove me wrong, them clips movie long
I don't give a fuck if you can act
Out here you got the starring role
You that main nigga we shootin' at, see we shootin' straps
You unarmed niggas ain't shootin' back
Y'all try to run, we shootin' backs
Gats is sparkin', he wanted action? Start it
You a active target, but my click poppin'
With big choppers that'll knock Big Momma back to Martin!
But let's bring truth to it
Targets, we don't move around 'em but we move through it
But you stupid
For lettin' them mournin' your death just for YouTubin'
You know what he told me? "Spare you!"
You know what I told him? "Find a spare you!"
You expendable, I got a scope
He interviewed during his interview
That chest shot gave him a inner view of the inner you
You know what's funny? I go all over killin' dudes
Y'all seen me, is this new?
I was taught to go long runnin' with whoever head they pitchin' to
But this is who I end up with…
I'm glad you still around for this shit
But do not go back to that Cave yet
'Cause there's still two more rounds of this shit

[Round 2 : Tay Roc]

You remind me of Shorty Doo Wop, you don’t pop 4’s
I show up to ya door with a snot nose: that’s a Roscoe
In his crib I was decoratin' with shots though
Puttin' 5 in his back when I let a flock go
You a league hopper, I'ma put you in ya place
You gone get what you urn: that’s ashes in a vase
Let me demonstrate, nigga I ain’t Organik
You’ll really get bodied if I put 100 Bulletz in ya face
I beat niggas that ain’t in ya ranks
I already sonned Will, I’m Phillip Banks
And you Carlton, clown nigga on every scene
I shoulda deaded you a long time ago instead of Qleen
Lil’ nigga watch ya lips or get swole shit
I have you walkin' with a Crooked Smile: J. Cole shit
I’m runnin' Yac, lil nigga you don’t control shit
Since he from the Yac, I'ma kill with old shit
Like… I’m back, warn him that I’m liable to snap on him
Swing a bat on him, no jokin' when it crack on him
Smack put racks on him, it’s a wrap for him
Another Yak town nigga I'ma kill, but I'ma pour a 'Gnac on him
Just ask Will, they’ll find ya ass killed
Do you wanna know how the trunk of that Pontiac feel?
You from Pontiac? Cool, lil’ Pontiac chill
Or I’ll put high beams in lil’ Pontiac grill
And ya arrogant act just ain’t right
You ain’t got be Conceited just 'cause y'all niggas the same height
But fuck the jokes, I’ll get you bodied in plain sight
This two-piece ain’t a left hook or straight right
Headshot when I clap at JC
If D MC don’t run I’ll Jam Master JC
I ain’t ask for JC, but this is who you give me? Fine
Smack, I’ll give the shots, but when Surf gone give me mine?
Not just him… Calicoe, Charlie too
2014, I’m tryna get rid of all of you
Julian, let me talk to you, these bullets cost Cash Money
They’ll kiss his Baby and go through Carter too
I said that wrong, that Cash Money will get son hit
Leave his Baby in tears 'cause she ain’t get one kiss
Even Lil Wayne will tell you that I don’t trust shit
That’s why I made sure all my shooters in the truck fit (Trukfit)
So what’s up? Get everythin' from ya nose and up broken up
I’ll get sir rocked/Cîroc in his coconut
You the type of nigga that I run up on
Tuck my hammers then fold you up
Once these Hit, man, ya brother gone have to hold you up
Get close enough, then Dose you up, leave you swollen up
Put ya head through a wall while I got you in a Cobra clutch
I throw a punch, it’s like drinkin' liquor and usin' bread to soak it up
One will leave you leanin', the other will help you sober up
Hollows in this .45 make it fortified
Battle rappers that you glorify I have horrified
Nigga I will have ya life flashin’ right before ya eyes
Hit ya heart, lung and liver because I’m organized
Smack know I ain’t playin' with these new bitches
Another body by Christmas? Nigga I’m too gifted
This nigga think he beatin' me? He must be too twisted
Or hittin’ trees like Paul Walker when the coupe drifted