[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
So we got Geechi Gotti versus...
I  heard you like to hit girls, you hoe-ass n***a
So  maybe it’s time I give this bitch a beatin’
Head shot, blow his brains on his mama, tell this trick to clean it
I’ll make sure your dome’ll stick on a bitch got a different meaning
Dome’ll  stick? Domestic? What, a n***a reachin’?
So  what? The pole dump
And I kept a grip for this pussy like the old Trump
(Every  bar, man)
Now hold up
What, your words ain’t work on her, so you had to use your fists?
I already heard what happened
You  hit her, she ate it (*ptoo*)
Looked at you and said, “N***a, you’se a BITCH!”
Every. Fuckin’. Bar!
You’se a fag and it’s plain to see!
Think about his Multiple Choices
His answer’s always...
See, you’se a queer, bro
Top-of-the-line weirdo
You threw a n***a chain in the crowd like, “Go and get it”
Bitch, throw my chain in the crowd, you goin’ wit’ it!
And bro, I’m trippin’!
They said you gotta get personal to beat him!
He one of the scariest vets
For real, “Every battle you had before him was barely a threat”
The homies like, “So did you find any dirt on John John?”
I’m like, “Nah, cuz, we ain’t buried him yet!”
Yeah, on the set!
I’ll show up to your house, catch ya lil’ man and slump him: it’s bedtime
Then I’ll throw the gun on the pillow
Y’all gon’ realize why I’m Mr. Disrespectful wit’ the next line
When he come in the house and find his baby laid in bed next to a TEC-9 (Tech 9)!
The West mine!
Bitch, I run that region
Soon as they booked this, y’all know he fucked, like he left wit’ her and he come back cheesin’
What are you smilin’ fo’?
Just ‘cause my gun Lil, John (Jon), don’t mean shit sweet, my boy
The bullet’ll enter south and come out ya Eastside, Boy (Boyz)!
This ain’t crunk music!
You jump stupid, and I’mma shoot ‘til there ain’t no more shells in the shotgun
I’m dumb ruthless
I’m still on top of this bitch after I’m done bustin’...but the pump’s useless!
What!? What!?
I’ve been on some cool shit, but now I’m finna change on him
He don’t gotta be in a gang - guns still finna BANG on him!
Let my nuts hang on him
He ain’t gon’ do shit
He was already leakin’ from the head shot
This chest shot gave him some new drip
Ooh, shit!
Look...motherfucker, I will beat this n***a ass
I’m talkin’ ‘bout pistol-whippin’
Yeah, ‘til both his eyes both swell
And you gon’ see the skull crack and bone hangin’ out his top like Sideshow Mel
This ain’t a cartoon, I’m a grown-ass man
I’ll blow your brains on Avocado and the crew
So whatever they don’t see in the building, I guarantee they’ll catch it on cam’!
N***a, my gun go “Blam!”, get his toe tagged up
Then he goin’ in a tight box like the first n***a Jaz let fuck!
This n***a suck!
He mad that I battled Surf ‘cause he wanna battle Surf so bad
He be on Twitter ravin’ and rantin’ ‘til his face all red
Bad barber: he steady askin’ for the Wave, I just gave him a Bald Head
Aw, yeah, the face shot dent his grill
He gon’ need insurance for them damages
What the fuck is Multiple Choices? Now he got Multiple Bandages
N***a, we savages
This n***a JJ ain’t really built like that
Bruh’ll get popped
The .40 shootin’, or I could have the .50 poppin’ like when “Wanksta” just dropped
You ain’t a gangsta! Just stop!
N***a, these is all facts
N***as like you and DNA be happy y’all can talk crazy to n***as like me, ‘cause y’all can disguise it as “all rap”
But, see, I’m wit’ all that
Y’all n***as Internet gangstas
If y’all ain’t @‘in’ and taggin’ a n***a, it don’t feel right
Me? I’d rather get at (@) and tag a n***a in real life!
And I feel like Vada Fly gon’ recap this and say Gotti caught a 30 on the Don bro
Headshot, watch him die slow
The coroner said the victim was nameless, but somehow his mama still knew it was John tho’ (Doe)
And when it’s real, y’all can tell
Y’all can see it in his eyes
Yo’ turn - see if you can make n***as believe them lies
(N***a, time)
[Round 1: John John Da Don]
Let’s give it up for Geechi Gotti
Give this man his credit while he’s still here
I figured if Crip been on a roll, I guess I will cheer (wheelchair)
How many of y’all got Geechi winnin’ tonight?
(*Quite a few people in the crowd raise their hands*)
Damn...I never felt so destroyed
See how easy it was for you to get my number in Tampa, Bay?
I feel like Gerald McCoy!
But you know my name, clown
Ain’t no need to run my accolades down
Just think of Prep, Wavy, Jakk’, and every other act I laid down
I didn’t need to battle a show host to begin my run
But since your streak got started by a Tech (TEC), it’s ‘bout to end by one
Champion!
But you been gassed ever since the day they made him champ
Head still in the clouds? Bow!
Now you the reigning (raining) champ
Yeah, you took the title last year - thank Blac for that!
‘Til I come off the belt and ring again on a champ: he goin’ back-to-back!
Geechi got bundles? And Geechi got shot?
That’s what you tellin’ me?
Well, damn, I ain’t know the hair business was this deadly! Sheesh!
You sellin’ weave? I can help you triple your units
Geechi got bundles, I got a Bald Head: business is boomin’!
I heard some n***as caught him slippin’ in the whip like, “What you got in there?”
Boxed in like that ‘70s show
You know, tried to mash (M*A*S*H) open and seen a chopper air
So, Danny, I gotta believe in a Parallel Universe, and it’s kinda weird
‘Cause y’all told me Geechi got bundles, but couldn’t weave the extensions that almost got him outta here (hair)?
But wait, bro!
You mean to tell me your gangsta name is Bay Loc?
Is it me, or don’t that sound like the butt of a gay joke?
Stay woke
Double D’s like Pamela Anderson, the way they poppin’ out
That just mean I’ll give him what I owed Surf will (old surfer) show why they shoulda told Bay watch (Baywatch) his mouth!
They put a n***a wit’ this gangsta rep vers’ a dangerous vet!
It’s on you to bring me comp’, then, (Compton) Crip
N***a, bang your set!
I’ll aim the TEC, line him razor-fresh - that mean the blade come next
So I can shoot him, stab him at the same time
Left so many holes I made Bay a net (bayonet)!
I’ll take a check
Your name came wit’ a serious price
Get it? They gave John Gotti so my fee’ll be right?
That’s how the mafia be, right?
And I’m the Don, so I’m above ‘em all
You the capo? No!
Get buried - now you the underboss!
Cuz or not, they won’t be able to get the Blood to stop
Any uncool (uncle) feelings? I’mma take it out on Cuz and (cousin) POP!
So cross the fine line
All the forces might find is your pupils and your heart
Brought a new meaning to “organized crime”
I heard rumors about Coffee and how sexin’ is good
All she known for is (forest) her throat ‘round her neck of the woods
Gotti hated on the last n***a the best that he could
You could ask him ‘bout that nut he block (Nutty Bloc)
Let him tell it, he just reppin’ his ‘hood
But would it fold ya (Folger’s) if I had some of Coffee?
Now I got sleepin’ problems
I could keep it Sweet n’ Low, as long as makin’ her cream a (creamer) option
You mad!?
Even if you was, n***a, too bad
I’ll come to your set trippin’ and put Blood on that blue flag
But what kinda Nut are you? I’m just askin’, bro
‘Cause all men (almond) worry about is the cash used (cashews) to keep a ratchet ho
Even if I mack a dame, he’ll (macadamia) know, ‘cause she’ll be glad to go
And be immune, so for what I make her puss stash, she owe (pistachio)
I’m gladly, though
I’m only here ‘cause I’m gettin’ that cash!
It’s a body, and it’s time for you to get in that bag!
So just know, when you get done spittin’ that trash
You know...
(There’s still one more round of me whippin’ that ass!)
Round 1
[Round 2: Geechi Gotti]
I know it sounded cool, y’feel me?
But he still up to his old tricks, and y’all n***as let it work
He said, “Bay Loc, gay joke, stay woke”
N.O.M.E. 9 - we already heard that from Surf
You still stealin’...
He wanted me to let that shit slide
He said “organized crime”
SMACK Volume 3 - I heard that from Shine!
You still stealin’!
(Fuck is he talkin’ about!?)
Aye, but, good shit, John John! (*clap-clap*)
But now I’m finna snap on him
Y’all didn’t even catch that I told Johnny, “Bravo” (Johnny Bravo), then let it clap on him
The MAC on him!
They told me, “Don’t slack on him!”
It’s too late - he already in the casket wit’ the slacks on him!
You fuckin’ bar thief!
You really is a clown
It’s crazy y’all fans be hopin’ that he ain’t steal a round
Then it’s “BOW!” - now y’all hopin’ that he still around

[John John Da Don]
I said that

[Geechi Gotti]
Drive slow, let the window down, I’m finna spray
Headshot - fuck a Multiple Choice
He dead - he can’t answer shit anyway!
The semi spray on a fraud bitch!
Face shot from the fo’-fo’, watch his jaws rip
Yeah, I brought a Bulldog to the vet: my dog sick
Aw, shit!
They say, “Why’d you shoot him again?”
I say, “Why bother?”
Pistol-whip the Don ‘til his jaws swell up like the Godfather
N***a, Mafia shit!
When they see me and my n***as, they be like, “I know them guys”
The gun propped up, look how the shoulder ride
That bitch be s-
BR-BRR-BR-BRR!...
Y’all see how the chopper was stutterin’ on the stand like Korey Wise?
N***a, stop them mothafuckin’ lies!
You a vet in battle rap, I’m a vet in the streets
That’s a totally different energy
Whenever I had problems wit’ a n***a, I brought the beef to his front do’
That’s how I showed I had delivery
Y’all wanna talk about chemistry?
Me and my partna done laid plenty n***as down befo’
Everybody in the room followin’ my commands during the robbery: that’s crowd control!
N***a, I done really been down them roads!
Trials and tribulations, they was great lessons
My head held high in the courtroom...that’s stage presence!
But I ain’t flexin’! I’m just proud to be reppin’ mine
I’m an intricate shooter, so if a round ever went over a n***a head, I made sure he caught it the second time
You a vet in battle rap...I’m a vet in the streets
I know it’s a gang of shit you usually teach them other n***as, but it ain’t gon’ be wit’ me tonight
N***as know you for stealin’...but I guaranteed he never had to take a life
Now, I ain’t sayin’ it’s right, but bro, I’m a demon
You done made n***as stop rappin’, I done made n***as stop breathin’
Bro, you not a goon!
All of a sudden, you this vocal
You used to be humble
What are you tryin’ to prove?
Weird-ass n***a barely comin’ out of his shell…
Let’s see how long it take for a shell to come out of you!
Every-
Look, they can’t react ‘cause they gotta listen to this shit
Yo’ shit simple
Yo’ shit simple, they know when it’s comin’
“Geechi did this and that, then it was flat!”
N***a, shut the fuck up
I can do it, too, ‘cause, look
You not a fool, but you was dumb enough to hit ya lady
What was wrong? You couldn’t use your voice?
She didn’t respect you?
Wait, hold up - let’s just use a Multiple Choice!
Was it A: you beat that bitch ass just for fun?
Was it B: you tripped her soon as she tried to run?
Was it C: you hit her wit’ a bare hand and not a glove?
Y’all know the answer - it’s D!
(All of the above!)
See how stupid that shit is?
And I got sons to raise, so beatin’ on bitches, to me, is a lame example
The difference between me and you?
If I gotta put my hands on a bitch, it’s to aim it at you
The banger clap you
This an easy death!
Blow his brains on his fit since he think he fresh
I think he stressed ‘cause they told him he couldn’t hang wit’ them hood rhymes
They gave me JJ in Florida
They knew it was gon’ be some Good Times
He couldn’t handle a “Bigga .9”
Imagine how this Tommy feel
Face shot, open his cheeks
My, My, My, I done gave Johnny Gills!
I’ve been poppin’ pills, might get to trippin’
I grip the biscuit, aim it at his top and I peel it (appellate) like a prison sentence
I’m wit’ the business like this a job
Hand over the grip, feel like you gettin’ robbed
N***a, the pistol cocked, no hesitatin’
‘Cause where I’m from, n***as like that? They never made it
Yeah, I was gon’ use the .40, but I know I bet he hate it
That’s why I’mma use the Nina, ‘cause the .9 don’t play wit’ these n***as: she segregated!
Aye, but, look, he ain’t on that Top, God-
Look, he really on that Nobody-tier
(Nobody likes him!)
The reason that you like to catch n***as in between battles? Now that’s what Gotti fear
‘Cause you wasn’t doin’ shit ‘til you start becomin’ the owner of the Bullpen, that’s kinda clear
‘Cause his writin’ basic
Cassidy voice: the Bullpen (boul pen) ain’t what got him here
And when it’s real, y’all can tell
Y’all can see it in his eyes
Now, go ‘head, see if you can make n***as believe them stealin’-ass lines
N***a, time
[Round 2: John John Da Don]
What you say?
“When it’s real, you can tell - y’all can see it in they eyes
Yo’ turn - see if you can make n***as believe them lies”
Well, when you rap, how could you see anything when your eyes are down?
If I cap, it’ll put him on his back like, “Who lyin’ now?”
But y’all believe Geechi Gotti, right? (Yeah! Yessir)
Shit, I do, too
And that makes us and, shit, everybody else that watches him on YouTube
With that said, I got a couple questions that I won’t let you dodge
Everything you ever said in a battle is the truth, the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth, so help you God?
So you really shot n***as wit’ ya eyes squinted to avoid the blood splatter?
Or killed a n***a, went to the funeral, gave his mother a hug after?
What a thug rapper…
But he’d been showin’ other signs, y’all just couldn’t read ‘em
‘Cause if he’ll tell on himself for views, imagine what he’d do for f-
N***a, you’se a SNITCH!
Wasn’t you supposed to do a year and made a post about it?
Came home in a week, talkin’ ‘bout the jail was “overcrowded”
How you beat a case without goin’ to court?
Yeah, this dude wild
Always talk about Crip initiations...funny how he never blew (blue) trial
That’s too foul
I blame your OGs for settin’ bad examples
Pistol-whip him - y’all don’t remember White Chocolate? - ‘til I crack a (cracker) handle
N***a, you wouldn’t kill a vibe or wax a candle
Whoever act mysterious meet (meat) in the can, I don’t have to Spam you
We ain’t gotta do no online beefin’
‘Cause in real life, you let your Crip homie get jumped in Houston during N.O.M.E. 9 weekend
Am I lyin’, Geechi?
See, they should just remove you from the set
Colin Kaepernick, ‘cause he ain’t really stand for the flag - he just do it for the check!
But you got some nerve tellin’ n***as, “You’se a bitch” when you’se a bitch
Your crew look sick
Aren’t (Orange) you blue or wh- now you Hoover Crip?
I don’t wanna talk, just shoot the shit
Shawshank, been through some shit
Get John mad and (Madden) intercept a bullet - that’s a user pick!
We movin’ this culture in the wrong direction
Puttin’ these small-time peasants versus all-time legends
Y’all know what happened to Mr. Wavy
When you see that boy, ask him
Y’all even told me Jakkboy was off-the-chain, and you see how far that went!
Wit’ all of these chain of events, it’s mind-bogglin’
I wouldn’t dare throw Geechi big-ass chain, I might drop it
Good thing I snuck this lil’ deuce-deuce in my side pocket
So I ain’t gotta tell him, “GO GET IT!” ‘cause I got it!
N***a, all you do is brag about a life that you had to live
You ain’t choose to grow up in the Grandees, but lemme guess, you glad you did
N***a, you ain’t have no other options - time tickin’
So I guess I gotta give him the Multiple Choices God didn’t!
Like A: fly in his mouth, since he talkin’ like he bug
Or B: open his heart - now he finally showin’ love
No, C: R.I.P - you know what it is, cuz
No, D: start from his feet and shoot all of the above
But like I said, you only became Crip because they forced you to
Bay Loc, don’t let me hear you brought in any more recruits
Or I’mma bury him on his feet while he leakin’ from a cross or two
Ain’t that what Nipsey always wanted?
To have a Crip and Blood under standin’? - it’s time to call a truce
This all for you
I’m only here ‘cause I’m gettin’ that cash
This a body, and it’s time for you to get in that bag
So just know when you get done gettin’ that gassed
There’s still one more round of me whippin’ that ass

[Round 3: Geechi Gotti]
Yo, you made up a story knowin’ the truth
My partna did have a fight at an event in Houston when I wasn’t there, and I couldn’t show up
I seen the footage, though - cuh beat ‘em both up
Aye, but makin’ up lies on stage, that’s somethin’ that a lame’ll do
Talk about North Carolina when n***as pressed P.C. and he came wit’ you
Yeah, “Tell the truth, bang ya tool”
Nothin’ happened to him? You better be lucky nothin’ happened to you!
N***a, shut the fuck up…
But aye, what’s up wit’ Loso, man?
Sometimes I just be wantin’ to headshot him…
And stomp a Christian out in some J’s ‘til they red-bottoms
N***a, what’s your problem?
He treat you like you God, ‘cause on Bullpen, you be bookin’ him the matches
But then you gave that n***a Brizz, and he got his ass kicked
Ain’t it crazy how he put him in the water befo’ he was ready?
Oh, you John the Baptist
That shit tragic
Him and his boy be talkin’ ‘bout the Lord and what Jesus do
N***a, we watched He Got Game
To us, Jesus was a shooter, too!
Every. Fuckin’-
Aye, listen though, man - back to you
Against Twork, you ain’t even wanna let Jakk’ rap
That’s how I knew that you was a clown, dawg
When I was a kid, a n***a pulled the gun out on me
I said, “Bitch, bust”, he ain’t even let it sound off
That’s the difference between me and cuh
I ain’t never been afraid to let a n***a get his rounds off
Being a sucka is what’s gon’ be your downfall
And you don’t even see that shit
Even wit’ them glasses - idolizin’ real n***as, knowin’ you could never be that shit
And on me, that’s it
‘Cause since a kid, I been poppin’ like land mines
My first guns was a .38 and a .30, too, like my pants size
So when the opps came through blastin’
It was no surprise
Even my granny told me to raise ‘em up like my pants were saggin’
Now, n***a, there you have it, no lies told
Y’all gon’ see a headshot turn John John to Steve Austin
That’s just how it goes
When his fam’ walk up stunned and realize the body was Stone Cold
I done traveled down the wrong roads
We all got dead homies
It’s a difference when you really gotta bury shit
It’s just a difference when you really gotta bury shit
Bein’ a pallbearer lookin’ at a mother, n***a, that’s really some scary shit
Knowin’ that you gotta carry the kid for her like you a surrogate
But see, me? I done really had to air the fif’
I done caught n***as slippin’ on the backstreet
You right I took a year
The judge offered me seven - I said, “That’s weak (week)”
But see, he like to put his pen to the pad
They wanted to make the pen’ my pad
We got different rap sheets!
Make. Him. Rap!
Please just make him rap!
Tell him to rap, please, and then I’ll let y’all say he did good
But ask him!
What have you really been through, John?
The shit that I rap about is true, I done really lived through, John
You not one of us
Battle rap is the only time you got a gun to bust
So when you do your hand like this, real shooters take it like you makin’ fun of us
‘Cause I know you ain’t never shot a n***a
And I ain’t sayin’ that you wouldn’t if you had to
But dawg, look at me - I done shot n***as when I ain’t even have to
And it’s facts, fool
Lame shit!
How is it snitchin’ when the next round, he gon’ be sayin’ the same shit?
I ain’t even have to, and it’s facts, fool
We was kids puttin’ in work
Shit, we was eager and we was glad to
Shootouts - them pops came to see us more than our real dads do
And it’s facts, too!
I’m talkin’ ‘bout I was doin’ this before I even joined wit’ the gang
In and out of jail, bringin’ my family the shame
It’s nobody’s fault, though
I put myself in the system like I created my player on the game!
You see how we not the same?...Huh?
‘Cause you portray to be a gangsta, but you really a ho, though, John
.30-clip, aim it at his glasses and squeeze in the frame last-minute like a photobomb!
There’s somethin’ I wanna know, though, John
Is you from New York or the A?...Huh?
Aye, n***a, for real, like, make your mind up
Fuck that - time’s up
I don’t mess wit’ the fakes
It ain’t where you from - it’s where you at
BAH! Now he in a vegetable state
You wanna know the shit that I hate?
N***as like you, tryin’ to be cool, dyin’ to fit in
Where I’m from, we literally had to kill to fit in
You’se a weirdo
Be at the club standin’ outside, tryna see if he still can get in
Bitch, I ain’t goin’ in the club unless the steel can get in!
Aye, but I’m at my wit’s end wit’ this shit, ‘cause I’m too real for it...for real
‘Cause a n***a know that I’m tryna make it wit’ this rap shit ‘cause the streets don’t love me
Family don’t even wanna invest in you ‘til a n***a dead, and all of a sudden, it’s GoFundMe
But when it’s real, y’all can tell
Y’all can see it in they eyes
It’s yo’ turn - see if you can make n***as believe them lies
N***a, time

[Round 3: John John Da Don]
What’s that...Atlanta? Houston? Tampa?
I’m just happy that y’all merged down South
But hold on...y’all finally gon’ let me get my third round out?
‘Cause this battle coulda ended like my last one
Why change the script?
When I could put his lights out and get him jacked (Jakk’) in the crowd, since we the Main Event
Every. Fuckin’ Bar!
You say that all the time like it’s somethin’ new
You don’t think I could punch every other line if I wanted to?
N***a, I’d rather punch, scheme, angle, build u-
Shit, everything helps
And that’s what happens when Mr. Every Fuckin’ Bar meets Mr. Everything Else
‘Cause you be turnin’ up with leeches
That’s a party full of suckas
‘Cause you always wit’cha n***as, but you hardly wit’cha brothas
I’m a Menace II Society - no, not like that Chauncy mu’fucka
I’ll get the drop - wit’ this .40, I feel sorry for ya motha!
But I wonder how he managed to stay safe in the trenches
Speakin’ on shit you seen your homies do, that only makes you a witness
Get it? That’s how I know you scared and would tell
Let’s make the truth clear
‘Cause if all of your homies dead or in jail, then why are you here!?
Let’s stop glorifyin’ this gang life - this shit blows me
‘Cause y’all be deep in the streets, but when you locked in that cell, it gets lonely
And it ain’t like you hold any kind of rank - at least, that’s what one of your Crips told me
‘Cause since June, your (Junior) Mafia look like little C’s (Lil Cease)
So now he think he the big (B.I.G) homie!
Shit phony
Have any of y’all seen him let it fly?
So y’all believin’ what y’all hearin’, when it could even be a lie?
You can ask God about me when you meet Him in the sky
And when it’s real, you can tell - you can see it in His eyes
B Magic, Rum Nitty, now you - probably get Tsu next
That should verify how I got all these n***as in blue checked!
Who’s left!?
I know Crippin’ come from your home
Difference is, somebody put you down wit’ the Crips
I blew (blue) up on my own
So how dare you call me a “bar thief” when that’s not right
Think about it, ‘cause when you a bar thief, you do not write
And all I do is try to kill every n***a they put in my sight
So the only thing I stole from anybody was the spotlight
But y’all don’t fuck wit’ me - why?
Is it ‘cause my confidence?
Or ask yourself if my claims are backed by my accomplishments
It’s hard to not say I’m a winner
Kawhi Leonard: I took it beyond rap to (Raptor) make a way wit’ them Clippers
Fuck it! Since I’m bringin’ war to L.A.-
Wait - water? L.A.? I’mma lake a (Laker) n***a
Lakers, Clippers - BOW! Either way, you get a Staple(d) Center!
I knew this would (wood) get under your skin, prick: it ain’t a splinter
Before the flash, you ‘pose(d) to keep still
Aye, can you take this picture?
That’s wack
And vers’ Hollow, I brought out the mirror
Yeah, y’all was watchin’ me
Then vers’ O-Red, I brought out the robe, the gold Versace beast
Jakkboy, Black Wealth chain, I showed the time-release
But guess what I brought for Geechi Gotti? (What!?)
Nothin’, ‘cause he gon’ have to earn them props from me!
‘Cause honestly, your name shouldn’t be mentioned wit’ greats
Feel like I’m battlin’ a n***a wit’ a lisp - this was a thpit in the face
Aye, but you on your way
Let’s show some Black power, and it’s beautiful…
No? Fuck it, then
I can save those flowers for his funeral!
Tell Surf stop being gay and come fight
From smokin’ you from the ocean view, I got the Wave in my sight
But please don’t say the “John” if you ain’t sayin’ it twice!
And if you don’t add the “Don”, YOU AIN’T SAYIN’ IT RIGHT!
Stop fuckin’ playin’ wit’ me!