[Round 1: Chilla Jones]
You wanted to dance with the devil, we in a ball room now
My style got flair on the low, like a ball room gown
They said, "Nitty go the small room crown."
Yeah, I heard all you clowns
Loud and clear, that's why I couldn’t turn the Volume down
You got me fucked up
But you knew you wouldn't fair well
To call yourself "Rum", and what's that? A clear L
Yeah well, Chilla Jones eliminates ops
I be stylin’ holmes (homes), like I renovate spots
The ratchet will take you out like a dinner date
Pop if Rum in the mix, it's only right I lick a (liquor) shot
Wait, stop
Tell Smack to get a reverend
Saga killed you, you here doing your Lazarus impression
If I have to grip a weapon, it's no fucks given
He get the baby outta nowhere; Immaculate Conception
Holy shit, I shake up rappers you take up after
Extended clip, send you to Heaven; this must be Jacob's Ladder
Bitch you just made us madder
The .40 buck (Buc') like Alstott
Full clip with a round in the head like bald spots
Screaming until my horse, you don't call shots
These west n***as thinkin' they sick, a buncha small 'Pacs (Smallpox)
And I’m the vaccine, gat scream
A tip make his hat lean, I’m that mean
Put his plasma on the wall like a flatscreen
They like to use Martin in they wack schemes
I'm switching to Living Single
The message I send clear (Synclaire) when the MAC’s seen (Maxine)
He got over ten (Overton) from a custom made pistol
The swagger mean, Khadijah James, I even put Flava on the magazine
Oh you clappin' beams?
Nah I ain't supportin' this Crip
If six rings then it’s Jordan and Pip'
Try tamper (Tampa) with me, but Florida knows I'm more than legit
Bar for bar you get outlined, we border (bored of) ya shit
Think you a soldier in this ring I'll slaughter ya shit
This who they wishin' well, well don't get wet when the Quarter get flipped
So fuck the .4 in his grip
It's all fiction we buyin', fuck what his pen (Penn) State
How y'all respect Nit' and he lyin' (Nittany lion)?
Y'all n***as be tryin' everything, I guess actin' cocky is the plan
Suicide or I'll do the job, you decide, shotty in my hand
Fresh prints when the cops caught him, I made him spray his own body with the can'
I know you wanna be the man, but I'ma humble you
The gun'll shoot, I keep heat like a bubble goose
I'm Rich' Nixon with the double deuce
You'll be M.I.A. if I raise ya fuckin' roof
Uncle Luke
Rum chillin' around a bunch of fruits like jungle juice
I got a couple screws loose but I'm mentally in a new place
But on the flipside I'll ex out a Quarter like Two-Face
Boots lace, fuck Rum and the shit he about to say
I'll pull a semi out and spray
You'll get buried over your dignity, you dig Nitty?
Good...now dig Nitty out a grave
Aye, aye, they say I got a problem with Rum
Oh y'all ain't gettin' it?
AA, problem with rum
They say the first step is admittin' it, so listen kid
I'm sick of shit, they say I'm lackin' appeal
But got an M with JC just from rappin' for real
My shit is fire, that's what everything a n***a write is (itis)
How y'all still sleepin' on me after the mil' (meal)
You roll with savages? Chill
Your big homie gon' pop a few?
Oh KG (Okay G) gon' let it ring, anything is possible
Logical, I'm reppin' Boston on the court
You would get a limb picked (Olympic) with five rings from walkin' wit' the torch
Why you grillin' on what I cook out here?
I'll bring everyone you brought into a corpse
See it's my Independence Day fair
I show 'em how the fire work (firework) then get it poppin' on the 4th
Of course, I'm the number one shotta
Don dada
When his hon' die (Hyundai), shhh, don't you tell son nada (Sonata)
Nitty sweet, RumChata
Fuck is you gon' crazy?
My only question is, are you Em'? Cause dawg Shady
Throwin' bullets out the shotgun like it's third and long, play me
And if you see a 4th Quarter come back from a 12, it's Tom Brady
You saw me and JC go to war, and you don't get it still?
You chance of winnin' below zero my n***a, so this a different Chill
I'm real
You might've battled dudes who sound like me but you ain't never stood in front of three rounds like these
[Round 1: Rum Nitty]
Let me speak to y'all for a minute
We got Rum Nitty vs..."it's ya boy DJ Akademiks"
I finally get to speak to Chilla
So look my n***a, I cheated you out yo' chain and you might've won
Whatchu gon' do about it?
That's how I treat you bitches
Took it right off ya neck like Debo did it
But it got you back to the league now didn't it?
They say I robbed you
I say I freed you n***a
Welcome home
Now it's time to see you die, who hot?
Make a n***a move spots
Best pen in the game? That's exactly what you not
Get you shot
I'm tryin' to be the cool guy
But if I lose it I'll pull and air Chill out like "woo-sah"
Trife shit, leave a n***a lifeless
Lie stiff, you not from my clique
Yeah we was Writer's Bloque but never had a bond, I'm a flight risk
I'm really like this
Bitch stop, when I March, .9 on me, don't be actin' like a B.I.G. shot
You gon' see the KingPen get popped, then pop
Suppressor on the big Glock
Quiet enough to hear the Pen (pin) drop
We step still, no cappin', these threats real
Scary, just hearing one give you that hospital bed feel
I send a shooter it's the death deal
Whole set peel, tell 'em leave your head peeled
That's an old school hit, so he only survives if my guy lets (Let's) Chill
You know how your boys spit light
Torch shit, right?
Get the whole division ate (eight), you might as well forfeit (four fit) twice
I close range bust it, get a stain from it
If he don't die, he lose most of his brain function
Gotta learn how to walk again so his legs can gain muscle
The recovery for DJ Akademiks gon' be an Everyday Struggle
Make it hard to live, make it hot for Chill
Rock his grill
The round get stuck, now they can't ID ya (idea), he's got Writer's Bloque for real
You an enemy
I'll take the coat off for a bitch and body Chill
It's go from chivalry to shivering
I can't say your pen is weak but ya flow it be killin' me
It's weird, next day air, you dope with the wrong delivery
And you be doin' stupid shit
"Eying Aaron, I in airin'" sound like you looped the shit
He gon' play it back, be confused as shit
You try angles (triangles) we go over 'em and get lost; Bermuda Trig
You heard what I said, yeah, fuck Writer's Bloque, you'll get fed lead
Cause I ain't never seen you as a friend; Drop Dead Fred
Dead dead
Paint your whole head red
Close range, one foot away with the stick it's a peg leg
You can't keep it real yourself
N***a suicide or-
Fuck that I got more now!
Only reason shit be lookin' debatable cause I got short rounds
When the lead smokin', leave your head open
N***as can't see Rum on the flo', that's on a dead homie
He look like the type that cooperate with 12, don't he?
Keep it Frank, outside the ring, Chilla will put the FEDS on me
But I kept goin'
Pull it, get set to shoot, I'm still (steel) mad
This gon' get real bad, but just for you
Or Heckler & Koch, I'll put it right under his head and shoot
So it interrupt words, ain't that what a heckler do?
Pro style, show you what this motherfuckin' pole 'bout
30 clip, if I get mad and (Madden?) lose it like 21 blowout
The Loc out, and I feel like I'm top three
Stop comparisions, I'm definitely not them and they not me
If I say some dumb shit like, "Make me show the grip in the palm G"
You can try [?], you'll be takin' a risk (wrist), that means it's in arm's reach
You all weak, I'll dog walk you, one hand, no talk, lump fam'
Sneak and (sneakin') Chill unannounced like Bruh Man
I'll up cans
Press against ya forehead with the tool barrel
Let it OD on him and jet, now I got the juice world (Juice Wrld)
I'm too thorough
Don't compete with me
N***as can't feed Nitty
Remix it, for the record, Deal did you bad; it was a 360
Keep .50's, I don't gotta murk him with these, knife game
Shut an organ down, he internally bleed
Soon as this bitch go and deliver it stop workin'; maternity leave
You can't- I'm fuckin' done n***a!
[Round 2: Chilla Jones]
Cornell...Powell
Remeber you called Twork out for the fade
I was tryin' to keep you calm yo
I mean how you think that shit was gon' go?
He would've did you wrong bro
But you was pissed in a battle like, "Nah man. You don't say certain shit in a battle."
Got outside like, "He did not look this big in the battle
Sorry to waste your time Smack, let's go inside and finish the battle."
N***a was rattled
I guess the beef wasn't real, no Mcdowells
This pussy tried fuckin' with blood and should've thrown in the towel
Hold ya "bows"
I don't politic in general, shots'll enter through your colon (Colin) Powell
And to be technical, that was flagrant too (two) man, Jones is foul
How you claimin' you sprayin' bald heads like Major Payne?
But Twork (twerk) had you lookin' worse than Lizzo at the Laker game
Fake and lame
A Lakers' jersey wouldn't make you Worthy
Bandana on the .50 bitch boy, yeah Nitty gon' make 'em Beg For Mercy
But let me flip that, bring him all kind of smoke
You just a Kid, Kid and I'm the GOAT
See in this Game, he Banks on punches that y'all like to quote
Here's where I G-Unit and Buck 50 just to spite a (Spider) Loc
Claimin' you got that Yayo, always playin' villain in ya raps
Well if you dish raw then I'm Jigsaw, I guess we both make a killin' in the trap
Boy I split jaws, push ya feelin' (fillings) to the back
Red dot, bald head, I make him look like Krillin wit' the strap
I'm back, and it's my time for real
I'm a gun fanatic, follow the guidelines of Chill
If you Rum, then I'm vodka that's five times the steel (distill)
You ain't a SMACK n***a
You started on Grind Time for real
Then King Of The Dot, then Smack, just had to remind you so it's clear
Cause in an interview you said, "Chilla Jones. We don't respect his writing over here."
But I frighten most ya peers
I mean little man complex but still comin' up short at the height of his career
If you the highest in ya tier, then it's time to perform
Why you think you in my category for (four) when I'm a more wilder storm?
Headshot, Powell (*pow* will) be quiet and I ain't even screw the silencer on
You gettin' torn boy
I'm not a n***a that you might be
K-Shine smoked you, had you lookin' tight G
Bigg K spazzed on you, beat you to the white meat
It's only right this third K, leave him under white sheets
You light heat and won't damage me
When I write shit, I keep it tight knit (Nit') like close family
No sanity
Don't try to fight me neither, or catch a bullet tryin' to go the fade route like a wide receiver
I'm cruisin', I hit the Nas then it might be 'Ether'
I school him
Y'all better learn from Cornell like an Ivy Leaguer
Tiny heaters on my lap, I'm in the back while my bitch whippin'
West side Phoenix, yup, ridin' through ya strip trippin'
Deuce deuce with a baby .9 load, the kid grippin'
I take every little thing and point it out, I'm knit (Nit') pickin'
I've been in Hollywood writin'
Tonight? The script flippin'
This time, if I put you in a plot I'm ditch diggin'
Bitch listen
I been sittin' in the back when you meet wit' mobsters
Shells crack then we dip with butter, we eatin' lobster
He said he surgeon (serve gin) with a .9 on him like he's a vodka
I ain't buyin' it for real, I'm a secret shopper
I protect my home and got hella pads (helipads) so I keep a chopper
Stomach shot, I'm tryin' to hit the core Rum (decorum) so keep it proper
You gon' need a doctor if I war witchu for more issues
See I bucket, then I'm on ya (Ammonium) wit' the stick moppin' the floor wit' you
Or get you, cruisin' in that Malibu, yup
That's how it go Rum
Give his apple ten (Appleton) then cap him more than (Captain Morgan) let it baow (bow) like an old monk

[Guy in the crowd]
Awww, not that

[Chilla]
I know, a long ass liquor scheme
But he don't understand himself
Take notes, I'm teachin' Rum how to brand himself
I blam myself with everything I got in the holster
I'm Offset, I stay wit' a ratchet and father a Culture so where's Cardi at?
They say a Volume card is where the bars be at
I beat Steams and I bring Chess (chest) pain like a cardiac
The blade's serrated with a Jagged Edge so 'Where The Party At'?
And it's a sharp one, 'bout to get dark Rum; Bacardi Black
I'm back!
N***a there's nothin' you can do with me
Fuck you thought?
Everybody dies except you Nitty?
No n***a, everybody dies; accept unity

[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
Aye, I just don't be rappin' 'bout it my n***a I've livin' through it
Really shootin'
And it's no 6'9"in'
The code of silence we stickin' to it
This'll prove it
They say a closed mouth don't get fed
The n***a that open his mouth can send you to Him
Lift the Ruger
Catch a few straight rounds
You won't get up after these hit you, I bet you stay down
I just showed a pastor what the tool game 'bout
Now I hit Jones town (Jonestown) with a Colt (cult) and leave him cool laid (Kool-Aid) out
You 'bout to get all the smoke
And take so many punches the fans yellin'
(Get off the ropes!)
Shit done got real
We all drill
Get Smack stabbed and robbed, a couple options that you got still (steel)
I can chop you, have bullets riddling his body when I peel
And may I A.D.D. I can not chill (knot Chill)
Try and you dead, your life on the edge
Kill yourself, he was better suiciding instead
I'm nice wit' the lead
What's a pen to a Jay-Z verse? You get the 16 right in the head
Bomb on him, Sig's (cigs) so big the alarm goin'
You better tell 'em "Give me room" Beasley, the .9's smokin'
No talkin' we just send him
Pull up, hop out, caught a n***a slippin', got bodied in an instant
Glock with thee extension

{Nitty stops to drink out of his water bottle}

...and after the water break, this bitch can pop at any minute
Get the business, but half you really chumps
Won't kill nothin', won't let nothin' die, it's not static that you want
'Matic out the trunk
I'll clap you n***as up
Why lay (Wale) hands on him, I'll let it sing 'On Chill', it'll be a tragedy for months
Me and you are not alike, I dip off, go get the tool if n***as hype
And slide back and address you, I'm movin' like I'm Mike
Ruger wit' the light, if I shoot you I'm doin' life
And the Aftermath is Death Row, cause the doctors (Dr's) goin' to be losin' you tonight (to Knight)
N***a we on that
Red dot, bingo [?]
You better run before you pass, Tim Tebow stats
We tote MACs, keep at least three/fo' straps
In case I gotta take a kingpin (Kingpen) down, it's the Rico Act
EFB the mob clique, it's who I rock wit' off rip
We all trippin'
And hold it down like a hostage
Hot shit, ya top lift, I peel (pill) and stop Jones in (jonesing) his tracks like Suboxone
I should up the cal' and smoke you
How the Loc do?
Reckless; Poetic Justice you lucky I don't go postal
If I slide through, you catch everything the .9 shoot
You gon' die too
Ring on the bitch right beside you
And I don't stop, I let death do it's (us) part, that's how "I do"
I'll be on that, keep a do' shit, where ya house at
Then push ya scalp back
That you get buried now, ya family not knowin' ya whereabouts
We're about that
You finna die at the end
As far as you winnin', you never had a shot, it's nothin' fire in (firin') pen (pin)
I came from the Southwest to kill a rival I'm in
Let it fly in the wind
If I get dealt a bad hand I'll take y'all Spirit, you'll never be United again
I'm talkin' real early day mornin'
This the part you're (departure) going to need security or it's gon' get terminal for you
I'll take .357 over the large TEC
Cause it don't drop the shells that the law test
It ain't a hard guess
So I threw the stick out for the bulldog, it ain't far fetched
I know you n***a worry
Came to see me in a small room, you know I do you dirty
It's my fifth Volume in a row
Smack knowin' I be irkin'
He a perc head, this n***a Jones in (jonesin') for a 30
You finna fuckin' die
You already got one foot in the grave...I'll push you down the other five
Can't keep it real yourself, suicide or I'll do the job

[Round 3: Chilla Jones]
That whole airline shit was fire, but this ain't what you want here
You a rival (arrival), but just know I gotta pump here
So you Crip, right? So Jet Blue, cause this 12 will make your front tear (Frontier)
I'll put a $1,000 on yo' head n***a, go fuck yaself
The stick wavin' for a band, better watch how you conduct yourself
I'm somethin' else
That's why they all do impressions like my pen iffy
They can't spit wit' me
This shit is in black and white; Sin City
Boy I'm Neo in The Matrix, you can't punch nor kick with me
But everybody thinkin' they fuckin' with The One, yeah it's a trend Nitty (Trinity)
But them witty, compared to these dimwits, I been litty
And with .4's I'm airin' a (Mariner) n***a; Ken Griffey
Man it's shitty how it all went down, I thought the squad was perfect
Me and Magic influenced the way that you jot your verses
Remember in Writer's Bloque when you had writer's block and forgot your purpose?
I was the that gave Rum a spark like bottle service
You expected it not to surface?
Ain't no controllin' that
But n***as push my buttons, so I let go of the Bloque, no holdin' back
The culture asked me how it happened
Shit I said the truth
Writer's Bloque found out in a blog that Nitty left the group
They was dissin' you on Reddit, I read it, then I defended you
Could've put "fuck you" all over them treads, Conor Mcgregor suit
But that's why I can't mess witchu, mentally a teenager
Ditched the Bloque for Team Homi, you was mad you didn't beat Danja
We seen it comin' but, the fact you tried to stab us in the back seemed stranger
You had the dagger in yo' hands a blew (blue) it, like the Green Ranger
See stranger
Ya biggest road block, the fact you like to throw shots
But no matter how many cliques you rep', you'll always be a chip off the old block (Bloque)
It don't stop
See anybody can punch, but when it has substance it's different
For instance, you cancelled your release party cause no one was attendin'
You not the n***a in Arizona, n***as bump in they whip and they all sober
Don't nobody want Rum in they system
And it's ironic, listen

[Rum Nitty]
Pause!

[Chilla Jones]
And it's ironic, listen
For you to say when I jot my writtens
There's no double meanings like when I'm scheming it's not entendre written
A lot is hidden
And I don't know whether or not you kiddin'
Cause you was rockin' fake J's hopin' n***as ain't spot the difference
I was livin' in Arizona, comfortable
When you was the URL star without a pot to piss in
Goin' back and forth between a trap house and where your baby mama livin'
Workin' at Wal-Mart stockin' fixtures
Tryin' to move up to Loss Prevention
I had a two bedroom, all new appliances and my spotless kitchen
You tryin' to spot the difference? N***a our spots is different
See how this shit can cost a price?
So instead of tryin' to spot the difference, get to a different spot in life
Now do I got this right?
Ya manager quit, y'all goin' through a breakup cause he wouldn't take a paycut
You lookin' shaky now that Rich is gone, huh, you goin' bankrupt?
You think I'm mad about a chain cuz?
None of y'all can budge me
You know I beat Real Deal and how I got robbed was ugly
Two to the head, one to the chest, and after these three rounds only God can judge me
Trust me
Fuck the battle shit
Think it's a game, I will bomb on a Quarter Nit' (coordinate), we playin' Battleship
You always rappin' shit about guns, I mean it's lyrically cool
But really it proves, you fallin' off with the flow; infinity pools
You always rappin' 'bout smokin' a Sig' (cig') and that's why I'm givin' these jewels (Juuls)
See Nitty refused to evolve, but you need a win
I kill n***as, send 'em back where they from with no reason
And I got the mothership now I'm beamin' him
New gun
What I cop kill a (killer) couple; Queen and Slim
N***a the Kingpen is back!
Who said I'm done in the game?
I'm just in time to put "Late" in front of ya name
"The Late Cornell Powell"
That's how you say it right Cornell
That's what everyone in ya house said
What's funny is that hospital Cornell gon' to be pronounced "dead"
So go to bed
N***a there's nothin' you can do wit' me
Fuck you thought? Everybody dies except you Nitty?
No n***a, everybody dies accept unity

Let's rap

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
Aye n***as was bringin' up me havin' a job befo'
Well let the games begin
Cool, we all know the streets are lose/lose, I'm tryin' to play to win
But you? Was never outside though, you was stayin' in
I was in the dope spot, Smack and re-rock (Roc) like I'm finna battle Tay again
If I up it I'ma squeeze that
Dangerous, I ain't playin' you should evac'
We strapped, big rounds out the heat clap
Stretch you, if he try to wrestle, I lay the pin (Pen) down with three Smack
You better do your best rappin' or your death tragic
Runnin' out of breath gaspin'
Bow! The Colt knock off Chilla like Rex rappin' or I throw the TEC at him
Tell him kill himself and do the job straight
I don't gotta yell, you get talked into it, in a calm (intercom) way
The clip like a boomerang on a long K
And this bitch draws down with Grace, Jones: Strangé
Whoever play get killed
I raise blue steels; Coors Light?
These is custom cans and they only made two (to) Chill
I ain't wit' all of that
I got no reply for a n***a, I'll let the clip holla back
If I show up to where you live it's a wrap
By the time you notice I'm at your door, you a victim, I woulda got a kick outta that
I'ma vet' for real
You ain't made it to that status and probably never will
Let it peel, your head'll spill
Whatchu want? The long .9 or the short .4 Chilla, you better chill
I'll leave a n***a lifeless
I'll follow you, creepin' wit' the rifle
I watch (iWatch) you go to the pad, like I'm syncing my devices
I'll be on they heels non-stop
You at the bottom feedin', I'm tryin' to see a mil' (meal) off top
Kill all ops
Run or you will get popped
Ironic when the gun firin' pin (Pen) break and he still get shot
It take like 20 lines to do the shit dawg do
But I can scheme, in one bar like Blizzard off Juice
When it's yo' turn you get the Sigs (cigs) on Q (cue)
These ain't imaginary guns, we packin' 'em
Deadly shot, release accurate
Pull up, green Challenger, three passengers, let it air off with the mask like sleep apnea
Got 'em yellin' "Mayday!" it's melee
For the record, what I got instore, smokin' (smoke and) Chill, it's crackin' day day
Don't fuck wit' me
That loss to John John look humbling
After that die and L (Donell) Jones was thinkin' this ain't 'Where I Wanna Be'
I upped the piece, you gon' die in seconds, fire weapons
Air around 30, like tire pressure
You don't got it this nice, you can see the effect when I punch like a comic book fight
Meanwhile, I can do what you do in yo' weak rounds
And you'll get beat, with the pen, so cold, I might kick a freestyle
Catch a beatdown
You won't make it out this bag
The pen (pin) watered down like Alcatraz