[Round 1: Tru Foe]
I say what's up n***a?
Is we friends or foes?
See I don't know
But where I'm from all my friends is foes
And I was taught to move wit' honor
No matter the situation I'ma stick to the code
I done seen the roughest and toughest n***as gettin' jammed and they told
And that poker face, only make they heart seem cold
'Til it's a body found in the river, all cause they showed me hands (Hanz) and I didn't fold
Tuck a pole, New Midwest, I'm 'bout to kill 'em early
See I heard he, used to have a problem with Calicoe
Let's see if the n***a wit' it now cause Toranio, done grew up n***a, meet the .50 cal'
Shit gettin' wild
NYB ridin' witchu just gonna turn up to danger
I knew the rules to the streets, I can't leave without puttin' one in the Chamber
With ya crew, I got some core (Cor') issues
Cause that shit Math pulled with Heavy only filled me wit' anger
It made me just, wanna load up a banger
And if I catch one of these n***as, I don't know what I'ma do to the man
Had a convo wit' the Lord, helped me come up wit' a plan
Best advice He ever gave, just leave it in God hands (Hanz)
You won't shine today
I pull a weapon, you gon' die today
No time to waste
The judge? Throwin' the book at n***as for pistols
You know how much fuckin' time on my waist?
See he ain't even worthy, I'm finna do him dirty
And this convo gon' be based on conviction
It's like the judge and the state's attorney
Attach a .30, Hanz fire, this a body
Foe gon' die- shit he gon' have to earn (urn) it
That n***a shoot at me and miss, his life? He don't deserve it
Didn't Brizz teach you? The Cal' swingin' if you play wit' Murda (murder)
I'm from the 'Go, y'all chose the wrong n***a to fuck wit'
This ya man? When it's drama this the n***a y'all go and get?
I'll spill his beans, now which hand (Hanz) you roll up wit'?
Fuck this
Gun spit, oh these n***as thought I wouldn't be ready for war
You bet not recycle or use another man's bar
Cause I'm movin' like the Soviet Union
Get caught stealin' I'm cuttin' hands (Hanz) off
In Chi-Raq, n***as die for the way they twistin' they hat
You Brim, right? N***as wouldn't survive in the murder cap'
He say "cylinder on a six shooter, sound like a hog sneezin'"
We all heathens, fuck demons
Learned to keep it street when we go on them missions
And gun bars? Get hard when you actually shot n***as
I ain't missin', slain victim
Silencer, on the .44 sound like a snake hissin'
Bang wit' him
Shot him, then put the .4 up that's for the gang members
I'm breakin' him
They say, "The eyes give you a visual into a man's soul."
He did B & E
Me? Never performed the kicked do'
But drive-bys, shit, I have shot out a window
Switch the tempo
Rumors he choked Verb, like he had the nerve to violate a grown man
Cool
This time, I'm takin' actin' in my own hands (Hanz)
Chrome blast, lucky he ain't leave wit' a throat slash or toe tag
To stop the blood flow, think a married couple on a stroll
They gonna have to hold hands (Hanz)
I fell in love wit' them gun sounds
To me, loadin' the pistol is romance
And it's real love, none of this shit fabricated
Most rappers fakin'
Thinkin' they ahead of the game until they decapitated
Learned drills at the School Of Hard Knocks, I graduated
So my Steppers really make n***as move, all the Kappas hate it
[Round 1: Brooklyn Hanz]
I fucked up on my last performance
Cause I wasn't fully prepared
Shout out G. Lowe
Beyond say (Beyoncé) 'Ego' what was spared
Unmotivated
Two open cases I couldn't bare
To think of bars, 'til a judge disregard me and the chair
I beat the odds
Random meetings wit' God
Was banned from churches, consecration
To a new congregation it made them nervous
I seek forgiveness
But for gettin' hit different when it's done on purpose
Now I'm sacrificin' lamb in person
Count ya blessings king
My [?]
Body armor, to [?] investment teams
The metallic, from the Horton Andy classic cause human eatin' flesh disease
If I shot you, Survivor Series wasn't optional, if they had histamines
Cause from one round, point blank range, that muscular disc it free (dystrophy)
You playin' wit' me n***a
This lil' n***a? Wit' the complex?
I could've got you booked on corner had both of ya arms stretched
My arms stretched, that corner book, it got the calm 'plexed
Head tap, catch ya body, now you the arm rest
Little n***a, up here drawin' all this attention
You saw the Brizz and Mook and T-Top falling like he Olympus
Pun intended
Homeboy in the orange seemed more Invictus
I'm morgues for (Morgan) free men (Freemen), but the end of that short shank (Shawshank) was redemptive
If that was us, I'm duct tapin' my whole hand to the scissors
And hit ya abdomen and get stuck in ya vest 'til (vessel) until ya appendix
I'm so adamant
It's drug to ya heart like [?] bitches
Pulled out, pause, and stab holes in ya head like you won't admit it
What kind of comp' you binding (concubine)?
Smack, Beasley, Chico
No literally, Smack, Beasley, Chico in the wrong environment
To have Tru Fo around true family
This shit feel like a forced entitlement
I was cool wit' Norbes
It was you that [?] that Patriot sight of him
Antonio Brown, wouldn't have shared that .9 mil' if I fired it
When it's war time, my n***as respond like 50
Respond like Cam' they respond with a .50
This long and the clip hold about 60
When it pop it look like I'm throwin' gloves at a chimney
Not no more
Prints and all, Hakeem to the semi
Automatic, catch his earth off guard (god) like a demi
Where dem puss all?
Throw upon da yard wit' a kitty
Throwin' Frisbees up on the dog?
{Gun cocks} And throw the dog at the Frisbee!
You gotta be stupid
Comradery nuisance
I'm aware of Foe his poverty sprucing
Mentally movin', ain't nowhere to go, psychology student
And act as influence, you can tear his mold
I fuck wit' ya music, ya jewelry is useless, I wanna hear ya bones n***a
Round one man
[Round 2: Tru Foe]
I say this Survivor Series
Foe got somethin' to prove, guess what I'ma do here
Give him rope to hang hisself, he (k)not that good, let's tie up some loose ends
The ink? Like blood spillin'
They say, "Be careful cause dude Brim"
Yeah, that's exactly why I wrote this round wit' a blue pen
Tune in
You know Twizz?
Respect the shooter
The cannon (Canon) got a camera view, I catch his death through a new lens
They say the Goons here, don't matter, Steppers is too
And we love them gun sounds, but it's not a BAOW it's a BOOM
Shit'll cloud out the room
A dead eye when his Glock liftin', I'm not twitchin', here's where the plot thickens
Gun bars, hit hard when you actually shot nig-
I'ma make him famous
It's crazy how I hear the mark even though the pistol is stainless
With precision I'm aimin', whole block can get painted
If say he hungry I, fed him shells, the weapon from outta this world he alien-nated
12 gauge, fuck that, I need the Uz'
Bullets long as the index, knock out more than a piece of you
Here to shoot, turn hands (Hanz) into finger food
Creepin' through
Wave five, then hands (Hanz) face the weapon speak to you
New Midwest, I'm the n***a that gotta lead the troops
So I shake hands (Hanz) like a friend, but I'm a Foe when I greet the dude
I told [?] and them, I would kill a Brooklyn n***a
Hit We Go Hard you wanna see the proof
That was a clean body, imagine what I'ma do to dude
You? Gotta lie in the dirt
Cause now the n***a know it's true
Y'all know how bosses move?
I send a shorty to do the mission
Tell 'em "Don't come back until you make him a victim."
Shorty drew
Made a trace of hands (Hanz), that's a kindergarten picture
I really got a temper, that's why I move at my own pace
On that solid for that money you get cut wit' a damn blade
Listen n***a, that was Rock, Paper, Scissors, I ain't playin' no hand (Han) games
He say, "I'm on the hunt for justice, cause I don't like how Justin did my man when he got out the can
And somebody gotta answer for it."
So now that Math problem on hands (Hanz)
I'm willin' to risk it all
We can brawl
Camouflage, I'm fit for war
Shotgun, 12, pat him down, hands (Hanz) on the wall
We really thugs, got it out the mud
I done caught and thrown a couple slugs
It's evident that the evidence is something they won't get from us
Ain't no prints on this pistol bruh
Cause they a n***a that'll claim they got hands (Hanz) until you get the glove
We can run the one's
They gave you G. Lowe then Tru Foe, like I ain't a fuckin' problem
See I ain't that last n***a you battled, with that fake persona
I'm really ridin'
So I ain't gon' stand here and look goofy while you fuckin' bombin'
Glock .9, before I let live in shame I'ma die wit' honor
16 in this bitch
You spit an R. Kelly bar, I won't listen to shit you gotta say
Cause 6ix9ine proved, you Brooklyn n***as the only one wit' that 12 Play
Shotgun
Random, my grandma a Diana Ross fan
She played this record the other day
Had me feelin' if I kill him they won't miss him cause he's a fuckin' disgrace
So you 'Reach Out And Touch Somebody Hands' (Hanz), I'm makin' the world a better place
[Round 2: Brooklyn Hanz]
I feed off energy
And there's something that riddled me about ya chakra
I get a strong sense of {sniffs}...I don't know...fear
At most, in the status of it an imposter
You not a Chicago killer
Nah n***a
You don't even got the apparatus of a mobster
I got an Al Kapone cig'
From an old n***a, that said he ran down on Sinatra
That was 11 years ago
Attaching the caliber to the cartridge
Fuck a board game, every roll of the die that piece had parts in
I'll light up ya family tree n***a, for any opportunity to split a partridge
True rendition, I'll cancel Christmas Foe, you see what Ebenezer started?
Let's not be martyrs
Chicago ain't no different than New York
Besides the gun laws
Cause y'all purchased the weapons from convenient stores
With just an ID
And a 30 minute wait for a police report
And now y'all IT's, teachin' the n***as you scared of that might go soft (Microsoft)
Y'all fuckin' suckas
I'll kill all that ruckus
Come to my Boondock when Dirty Harry run out of bullets we keep the saloon locked
My Dukes a Hazard
Elephant stature, I'm on that Ong Bak
Scrapin' my knuckle on sir face (surface), I wanna see his moon rock
You smokin' dope?
Promotin' jokes? Or is it just this (Justice) League?
We could've done this shit in Wrigley Field
Bared (bear-ed) arms until your Cubs had to leave
It hit the bottom of the 8th, Willson Contreras at the plate
Fuck I need to reiterate that theme?
That's the .40 tryin' to take four (Foe) home for his first three swings
I'm out for blood, sport (Bloodsport), fuck cuz thought
Take my advice (Vice) Lord, you food
To the ones bred (bread) for it
You ain't 'bout that life Claude
So stop, wit' the gang allegations
Cause unlike ya type fraud
I really left stains on the cement
Customize my white fours
You ain't like that Tru Foe
You ever get three lines with the 5-7?
Fuck the haiku Tru Foe, I'm a psycho Tru Foe
Get me a one way ticket to Hell and I might go Tru Foe
But despite that truth (Tru) Foe, I've never been bitched by a n***a yo' size or Manute Bol's
You check my Facebook group post
N***a I tag more kids than a Chinese soup bowl
My shit is like that Tru Foe
I was literally supposed to box, hence the word
Sense the nerve, your cheek will be on this ox
You a bird
I'll reangle your beak to keep all your snot
Keep feedin' you worms off the bodies of homies you left to rot
This shit a absurd
MLK was deterred from bein' violent
Malcolm X, "The price of freedom is death." What's in ya wallet?
Google Play
Souljah Boy and Onyx, Nastradamus
Big Draco, with a few bald heads, I ain't kickin' knowledge
Let Tru Foe trip
Ahh nah, I'ma wait 'til the second round for this shit
Nah, it's the second round I'ma wait for the 3rd round of that shit to give you both
Mob

[Round 3: Tru Foe]
I say, this was a four year grind
Some shit I did in battle rap y'all prolly wouldn't believe
Rappin' on this Smack stage, shit was really a dream
It was ten years ago this n***a was supposed to have been in the league
But y'all got him up here battlin' me
Like I ain't a beast
Now I ain't sayin' he can't rap or ain't got the heart to compete
But who in this town really believe Bill Russell can still bang wit' Embiid
New Midwest, I'm here to put on for the team
See personally, that's how you know Smack and Beas'
So you take an L, P can just pull a few strings
That ain't the case for me
New n***as come a dime a dozen and I gotta eat
So P he'll never appreciate this opportunity as much as me
Tuck a piece
I told Foe and them, he gotta die soon as I see you
Somehow, if he survive, they won't believe you
Cause for me, leavin' the op' alive, just don't seem true (Tru)
I had to eat food with five star elite dudes, they taught me the street rules
First time I seen a n***a die, the shit made me sick
One of the folks got caught lackin' we gave him everything in the clip
I was ridin' wit' some Lords and Foe's, they not atheists
I can't play wit' this
Opportunity to be somethin'
Went to church, told me if I ain't study a proverb I wouldn't be nothin'
All cause I seen and heard the evil, but wouldn't speak on it
I'm willin' to put my life on the line
When the streets callin', when we huntin'
Just know, we had a plot for the mission
N***as slide up that one way, cut him off at the entrance
Try to play that back block, run in the alley and clip him
Get caught in that gang wave, spin the block and finished
So y'all can tell Kid Chaos, that's how you scheme on n***as
We tote blickers
Catch me tuckin' a chrome heater
It's gun in hand (Han), his life on the line, I'm a palm reader
The weapon, hand crafted, scratched it, serial, off the fo' fo', I'ma dog breeder
Or buck 50
These New York n***as always tryin' to get to a cut, I think that shit is dumb
A Chicago rap about a buck 50, the gun had a drum
URL, class in session, I learned my lesson
N***a like him? Couldn't teach me shit
Now we gotta throw hands (Hanz), after school, 3PM
P asked me was I ready
I told him, "I'm so wit' it. No permission. I'm not repenting."
But ask forgiveness per mission (permission)
Do God listen? I'm not religious
So His hands (Hanz) I gotta lay on 'em
Get out of body, we puttin' hands (Hanz) together, watch how we pray (prey) on him
.8 drawn
Nah, I ain't forget it, but I figured
Why ask forgiveness if I meant it
Slide wit' members, Glock'll hit him
Now Hanz (hands) on his knees, I guess the n***a tired of livin'
Y'all just seem heathen, but don't none of these bleed different
So his life like Dot Mobb chain, I wasn't 'pose to leave wit' it
We did it, left the scene vicious, in deep trenches
Pistols strike like lightening
He ain't even start to panic when he seen he was dyin'
It wasn't 'til mid life he realized he was havin' a crisis
And the bars cold, North Pole
When I spit, n***as get the chills and they call me "Tru" cause everything I spit is real
Mob

[Round 3: Brooklyn Hanz]
I was walkin' home from parole and got a call from Chamberz
I said, "Hello."
He said, "Ayo...You bet' not go to Maryland playin."
I said, "How"
He said, "N***a how?! You tryin' to take another vacation?"
Math text me, "Don't be stupid Hanz, just go get ya paper."
I laughed, put Remington's in my flask
Cause that's how I drink, am I that bad?
Grab my gun by that ass
My shit don't stink, n***a Tru Foe dead!
Caught a pain in my head
I don't even get no sleep [?] if I die n***a, before I wake, these are yours to keep
Baow....baow baow
And the Walther PPK didn't make that sound
Nor did the n***a that popped Foe
Shit, I would've killed you to make mine's proud
I'm only here to see Tay Roc
Cause Math and Chamberz know I don't fuck wit' them Dot Mob clowns
But they figured, brother [?] to hold [?] down
I'm not gonna deny that cause these are the perks of a vigilante
If NYB stood for "N***as Yell when they Bleed" I'll make Tru Foe family
New toy odor (Toyota), linger over the motor
I'll mark this Camry, now your clique at risk
For your funeral service, you should've thought about plan B, you a bitch
And I'm callin' you pussy
And don't know you
Insane, I sat in asylum...and got social
Saint Lucia, registered Ruger, it's bi-cultural
Superbad aim
I'm this close to Foe, cool (Fogell)
Hanz
180 grams, more like 90 extras
My payday fees don't indulge in session
My incentives for the D.C.?
37, that's a healthcare reform; through lethal injection
My warrior mentality on Epinephrine
I post data salary and find a preference
October 27th or November 2nd?
I get my shot above ya brim, that's just Tommy Sheppard
Big man, my perimeter can't be budged, all ten toes
You can see my calluses in the mud
They call me Brooklyn Hanz
Only the district attorney can call me Doug
That broke his hand
Tryin' to knock out a c-note when it was numb n***a
...Ayo round over man