[Round 1: Nu Jerzey Twork]
This finna be a 30 round
Ya Indian ass bet' not come up here talkin' 'bout you over the body with the turban down
Too typical
Let's go n***a
I'm tryin' to figure out how did you Real Sikh to become your whole image
You look real healthy to me n***a, what's wrong witchu?
Are you sick like lymph node cause you some swole n***a?
Well, we ain't in the same place you met us in (medicine)
Check ya temperature, we really dose n***as
Is you common cold victim?
You can't be sick like the flu
You ain't hot headed
You ain't put nothin' in the coffin (coughin'), you ain't got no symptoms
Whatever it is, it can't be contagious cause I just don't get it
When you sick, you supposed to change with every stage, but somehow you don't differ
So you can't be sick like cancer cause we ain't never seen growth in you
What's this shit you on?
N***a ya real name is Sukhwinder Singh
Stop all this cap talk like Gryffindor before we hit the house, kick the door
Everybody hit the floor, I chop down ya whole family tree
I got enough in here for Sikh or more (Sycamore)
I'ma clip 'em all
I'M STRAPPED IN!
I'll
(Clap you in a coma
Madness, I could snap at any moment!)
Clip get tossed, no words, I just let my pistol talk
This n***a think he real sick, 'til this Russian chop' clip go off
Can't possibly think you're the only one Real, Sikh (sick), soon as you hear my Kalashnikov (Kalashni-cough)
I'ma clip you off
A clip get tossed, I'm talkin' a pistol will fly
Nah, nah, nah, I grab the blade for this Indian guy
Hop out the Cherokee with the Navajoe (Nava-hoe) cut leave a patch he (Apache), want mo' he can die (Mohican)
Them the Indian tribes
I'm lettin' 50 go fly, I just refurbished the piece
Beam on it, rapid fire, I got current receipts
I can squeeze, push one button and 30 release
Headshot, it hit that (w)rap faster than Ludacris and you can give his turban the piece (Disturbin' Tha Peace)
The nerve of this geek, grip a tank
Oh you some personal trainer, you can beat me, that's what he think
'Til I grip a tank, one shot, the n***a faint
I'ma leave the body to rot Smack, that shit'll stink
Give the personal trainer a strong odor (older) n***a; Billy Blanks
I'ma grip a tank, leave him just killed
Stomp him out, in these Timberlands, 'til the white meat get revealed
I'm talkin' cheek to the heel
Construction boots, take it in his teeth with the steel
Fuckin' up ya features I will
Size 13, big foot (Bigfoot), they ain't even believe it was real
I'm talkin' squeemers for real, shit got nasty form
N***a funeral was a tragic moment
Not even his own mother recognized him when the casket open
I'm talkin' nobody even knew he was sick (Sikh), like Chadwick Boseman
Ratchet blowin', one drop, then turn to somethin' else; magic potion
Grab the toaster, draw the cannons, Warhol
Or [?] knife, stuck in his grill look like a warthog
Drive-by, only two cars deep but we all spark
The Lex still (Steel) behind the Cherokee, these bitches porn stars
Out the window, extended mag' on the long jawn
I'm talkin' stick hangin' out the glizzy look like a corndog
If he try to warn y'all, that's when the ratchet come out
Soon as he do his Indian call he get clapped in the mouth
I'ma use a snub, nah, nah, nah Ruger bust
He in the hospital losin' blood
He need doctors, nurses just to chew his lunch
He can't breathe, they got pipes goin' through his lung
I'm talkin' sing (Singh) with the tube in his mouth, like 'Computer Love'
I'ma sssskkkrrt, slide through with thugs
Roll the window down, clips dump
Speed up, roll the tints up
If he live, then I'm spinnin' (spin in) back like a cement trunk
Clips dump
I'ma show you what this pistol play 'bout
You ever heard of a wheelchair? Well bitch I give them things out
It can only go up hill from here, he can't feel a thing now
They installin' ramps on the side of the crib, look like Lil' Wayne house
Jersey
[Round 1: Real Sikh]
They said, "Sikh. This is a bad matchup for you dawg
It's after you just lost. An uphill battle, you gon' fall
No chance."
Y'all think I can't dance while this bitch Twork (twerk) in front of me?
Good thing I got my back against the wall
What he had? He had the Kalashnikov?
I lift it higher, but I wanna shift the fire
So I gotta switch wit' the Russian, that's Brittney Griner
What else he say? He said, he said-
Yo, he got a headshot? I'm movin' with speed then
Beat the shit outta someone in ya crew to get even
Have Castro lookin' like Rhianna when Breezy through that quick beatin'
So before you give this turban the piece (Disturbin' Tha Peace), I'm a give Lu the Chris (Ludacris) treatment
He had the double barrel shotgun, sawed the weapon
I'll have him runnin' for Shotgun if he saw the weapon
Fuck ya stomach shot for anyone small and testin' (intestine)
Liver shot, that's alcohol infection
Rib shot, that'll make him barf his breakfast
Give his chest rounds now it's gettin' hard digestin'
I cut straight around, stab his lung, take it south
It's a family reunion, flesh and blood hangin' out
Whatchu gon' make fun of my style and how it seems so fast?
I'ma biggity biggity biggity beat yo' ass!
Run in his crib, drum on the hip, a ton of them rip
If somebody dip and duck in the shit I'ma dump it again
I want everyone to get hit
Walkin' up in that bitch like a friend feelin' left out, "What did I miss?"
Then dump it again
Your squad get shot if it's real danger
We can have a peace treaty, but it's over when it kill later
This how Kanye feel, gangsta
Cause if I throw shots at the people with Jerusalem that'll be a deal breaker
I jump him quiet, knock him out before anyone arrives
Like buck, buck, buck, sound like Twork when he mumble lines
Butterfly, stuck inside, swung it by a couple times
Then wipe the blade clean, the situation was cut and dry
Gun'll rise, son'll die, mother's cry
You got a Bigga .9, a lil' .9
I got a medium that connects you to the other side
I'm prepped to follow you with every weapon I could use
If I get to line Jeruz you can bet that I'ma shoot
See my lift in your peripheral, and guess I got a tool
That's a barrel in the corner, like Jeffrey Dahmer room
He hit my phone, I ain't gon' pick up
It was left off, hit the side of his truck, he in a pickup
With the left arm he reach, cut his hand, what he gon' pick up?
With his left off, kick it to the side, then I'ma pickup where I left off
Watch it as I drop, give bodies to pine box
Last one that wanted to jump, tried it and got got
He do the Twork Bounce and stop with a Glock pop
Leg pop, he'll go from hopping to hopscotch
And muhfuckas want me to run?
That ain't what they built this company from
I'm just as much trouble for them
Keep it a buck
They threw me at Twork cause I'm one of them ones
Jersey bitch!
[Round 2: Nu Jerzey Twork]
I feel like we've both been misinformed
Real Sikhs, Piru's, I might not agree with Sequinda's cause
But I feel like it's both gangs that we twistin' up these fingers for
I just read about a mass genocide in India, I couldn't even think no more
I'm talkin' innocent women and children dyin' from this senseless war
I wanted to send a prayer to God cause I know in the US we don't see things like this before
So it's like over here it gets ignored and over there it's the norm
So no funny shit, bow ya heads for me
Dear Heavenly Father, I know we struggle down the path of righteousness, though forgive us Lord
And for every person that died out there in south Asia, I'm 'bout to send you more
I'm talkin' clips galore
Kill 'em all
I figure the more people died out there in Asia, that's just more liquor that Singh'll pour (Singapore)
Clip 'em all
I was sittin' home, phone got to ringin' off
I'm like, "What the fuck is this?"
I picked up, Smack gave me my opponent, I hung up quick
I got to tuckin' grips, clutchin' fifths, uppin' sticks, a bunch of shit
Soon as I found out I got Sikh (sick), I did everything, it's a bucket list
I'ma dump this bitch, I got great plans
I can throw him in the creek or I can lake fam'
Or he gets sunk in the middle of the gulf like Space Jam
You can't come around my way fam', you gon' need ya heat
I mean we both from Jersey but I'm really from the meaner streets
You from the other side, beautiful, grass cut, trees and leafs
I'm from the block, we had pills, coke, weed and lean
No time to even eat
I'm talkin' peanut butter & jelly sandwiches and then it's back to feed the streets
No time for Roscoes Chicken & Waffles, so we had to settle for P&B
This n***a ain't seein' me, that's pure nervousness
Up here spittin' all them words and shit
I get that wrap around and put a stop to that flow like a tourniquet
Burn this bitch, 12 left in the 30 clips
Still enough to pierce Singh (piercing) all over his body like some Xerxes shit
Merciless, it's petty killers that I'm workin' with
I charge 60, I give them 50, take my little paper off the top, it's a Hersey's Kiss
Burn this bitch, you don't know what I'm workin' with
If your mother knew the company I keep, she'd be worried sick (Sikh)
I don't wanna hurt that bitch, cause she still kept you
She grew you, raised you to be nice and strong, she had to meal prep you
Be a shame to tell her I gotta kill that dude
I don't wanna see her cryin'
Gotta give Rest In Peace to her son on her arm, I would feel bad too
Your mother's from India, she's used to Henna, she never thought she would've had to get a Real tattoo
Yeah I choke in battles sometimes, but I'm still that dude
Fans hate it when I take an L
I mean I come up here with 50% and y'all don't really take it well
But y'all don't stand the other 50%, just in case things get real
It's like 10% for tithes and offerings, or I'm goin' straight to Hell
5% for the tints cause I don't want my face revealed
25 for court fees or I'm gettin' placed in jail
That's why I keep the other 10% just in case I gotta pay my bail
Bitch I'll blaze a shell
Grab the shotgun and get to raisin' Hell
If you don't want the paper to read, "Dead, 5'9", South Asian Male" you better take this L
Or I'll pistol whip you so hard your brain'll swell
Grab the sticks and beat this Real Sikh (sick) kid ass, bitch I'm Dave Chappelle
Blaze a shell, chopper shootin' at a rapid pace
They done booked you with "Mr. Break The Country Down" bad mistake
You must be on some Molly (Somalia) thinkin' shit's sweet (Swedan) until I grab the pole and (Poland) then mark (Denmark) him out, but that can wait (Kuwait)
He be up here spittin' at a rapid pace
"Y'all should lyrically fear me. I'll slide, pick and then roll
A blade from my hip will just go hit his occipital lobe."
N***a, we ain't even hearin' you clearly
I think you're a fake Dizaster (disaster), a conspiracy theory
I don't even let this weirdo get near me
Long range, great aim with the MAC
Headshot, it look like Mojo Jojo, you can see the n***a brain through is wrap
Jersey!
[Round 2: Real Sikh]
The guys dope
But he be makin' up words in his lines though
Remember he told Nitty, "Land O Lakes, if I don't see nothin' but a (butter) stick, I'ma win by a big margin"
"Margarine", it's kinda close, I don't know
Why bro?
You said "margin" instead of "margarine", you forgot the A.R., I won't
Die slow, eyes closed
I left him incapacitated
This the second reenactment of Kennedy's assassination
Hit ya head 'til we see half ya brain extend like it's elastic, wait
I don't know how I thought of that, must be a stretch of thee imagination
This how to be thorough
I'm on my Doctor Strange the way I walk through this round gon' be out of this world
No co-sign or applause, chrome .9 to ya thoughts
Shoot ya brain out ya skull, I won't mind it at all
No time for the talk, ya soul fly to the Lord
.45 to ya core, every bone by it is off
You're left so wide it'll fall
Right gon' slide when it's tore
Like a DJ at a wedding, I need both sides on the floor
This Jersey, I been reppin', but they think less of Sikh presence
Even Suge said I'ma get left in this settin'
What evidence you got he gon' win, quit guessin'
I'd ask for Proof if you know Suge but that'll be a Trick Trick question
Big Desert, close range, bring it for a word
Sound like y'all predictin' this battle, I'm leanin' towards Twork
The boy heard the Eagle and knew he a dead man
Kevin Hart/Don Cheadle, he heard the .50 and said, "Damn!"
You know what shook his pride?
He was drunk and tried to look alive
Couldn't drive with his eyes wide open so he took a dive
Shit, after that accident you don't remember the same
I bet you with the roads you crash was Memory Lane
He got ejected out the window it was not a game
Doctors put a metal plate in his skull when they had to operate
Kodak Black could learn how to feed his girl from how ya body laid
Cause this bitch got flown out but gotta plate
He said, "Of course I still walk by faith and sometimes I drive-by too"
Last time you drove by faith your car flipped five times too
You was barely alive in a hospital bed losin' the will to live but fans got you conscious again
The culture cheering you on is what dragged you out ya slump
All them years of clappin' in a coma and we had to clap you outta one
And still, we always chokin'
Seems like he lost his focus
I would've thought the moment his car was broken it would've gave him auto-motive
Y'all be knowin' he recycle bars and say 'em like they new
That's somethin' we ain't take a likin' too
Now he stopped reusin' lines cause the crash was gonna take that life from you
And his skull got a metal plate and those ain't recyclable
I hope this ain't the time you drop off after the second round
I've been talkin' to you too long let me address the crowd
Yo, raise ya hand if ya think Twork one of the best that's out
See, look in the eyes of all the people you've been lettin' down
Jersey

[Round 3: Nu Jerzey Twork]
This ya road to fate
I read your religion, Sikhism, front to back, made sure I made no mistakes
Y'all believe in the Golden Rules, to uphold ya faith
Now it's not about just eatin' Curry, you gotta actually do things to the Golden States
Like meditation, givin' back to others, makin' an honest livin' and amongst other things, always go through shit like a warrior and hold ya weight
My n***a I done survived shootings, stabbings, jail, and a wreck Sikh (anorexic), so that shit you said don't hold no weight
We got plans to come
I read your religion 'til my motherfuckin' hands was numb
I read Sikhism cause there's questions that I needed answers from
Your religion says, you can only carry a small knife but you be up here handlin' guns
Your religion prohibits you from gettin' intoxicated but I've personally seen this man get drunk
Your religion says you get fulfillment from the sunlight
But you lettin' Shine defeat you only did more damage done
Y'all believe in kesh, kangha, karha, kachhera, kirpan, those are the Five K's in the land that you from
The Five K's! And this n***a couldn't even handle ONE
This man is done, you doin' Sikhism big damage
We don't even know why you wearin' that turban, you Nick Cannon
It's just brandin', with each step, whoever the real Sikhs are, this n***a need a G check
I done seen your people oppressed many times, you ain't go out there and march in the street yet
I mean, n***a I'm a Christian, my God allow me to rep this P set
Now I ain't sayin' Jesus was all out there in the streets but at least he got his feet wet
I need my RESPECT
Y'all only clown me for chokin' issues
You had a classic with Pat Stay
30'd Danny Myers
You got your ass kicked by Shine, look how quick they go against you
Same shit Smack did wit' me, but y'all don't realize, I was battlin' four battles back-to-back, somethin' I said I wouldn't hold against you
Really I should've sat down after every battle like Yoshimitsu
I feel like I don't convince you, cause still a n***a broke, really I'm a joke
I gave you moment, after moment, after moment
First time you jump on cam' about me is when a n***a choke
But you know how many n***as I done smoked? How many tickets I done sold?
I stuck out like a nail in the wall or cause I had an image to uphold
The police shot at me, y'all didn't even send a n***a hopes
No nothin', you talkin' I'm fuckin' up ya bag, no dummy, if I'm fuckin' up your bag then n***a we both cruddy
I almost died, got in the car and felt the ghost coming
I'm in the gurney fucked up, spine done, spine fucked up
Hospital bills up to my neck wit' no money
You're a fuckin' millionaire and I had to make a fuckin' GoFundMe
Ain't nobody travel down that road for me
Y'all said y'all wrote to me but I ain't never get the message
Only n***a to come see me was DNA, and that wasn't the Eric I expected
That shit is reckless, but this is where my respect is
Cause I love you Smack, I don't hate this man
At heart I'm still a 19-year-old boy that you gave a chance
If it wasn't for the URL I'd still be out in the fuckin' streets, prolly dead and God had greater plans
So no matter what the fuck we go through you always gon' be my man
But after that interview with JayBlac, you couldn't even shake my hand!
I'm ragin' fam'

Hold on y'all let me get it back, let me get it back
I'm ragin' fam', ahhhh, hold on
Control your emotions, control your emotions, control your emotions
Bro just focus
Aight I'm back Sikh; scoliosis
Bro just coastin'
I had to talk to Smack, you had to give me one moment
N***a you be on Instagram, pictures of Chris Brown and Drake
I'm like, "This n***a got plenty stuff goin'"
This n***a said, "Remy Ma tied my shoe!" We don't give a fuck homie
N***a, ya boots was tied all the way up, that's the only reason Remy jumped on it
If it ain't $40,000 or better than it's fuck haters
Hitman, NXT, Jerry Wess, a buncha nut chasers
Smack don't call my phone for nothin' but paper
Free Surf n***a
Jersey

[Round 3: Real Sikh]
Y'all remember when he did a fake choke with Geechi?
Then said, "That's somethin' the old Twork'll do"
Then choked for two more years, I guess that old Twork is new (Nu)
Besides me that's somethin' the whole Jersey do
You right, free Surf, you even choked versus Tsu
You the kinda person to be amazin' vs me, and then choke versus Mook
Y'all keep callin' me a "terrorist" that's what I'm goin' to turn into
I taught myself how to make a bomb explode burnin' fumes
With the push of a button, so while the whole world in school, doin' homework on Zoom
I was remote learnin' too
I'ma fool versus who?
Yeah with Shine I felt worse I let y'all down
I let the mic issues get in my head, shit got 30'd by the crowd
But I fought through it, even though it wasn't workin' I was proud
Shit, if you was in my state you would've Jersey'd every round
You gotta reinvent ya style
The old one ain't better, hold it together, control all ya temper
Show 'em some effort, don't just fold under pressure
If the same way you live is the same way you die, you won't be remembered
Your homies should check ya
Like in the past no one told you to spar?
Unless that battle is close you don't even start
What good is havin' bars that are goin' over ya head if he can't get it through his head to be goin' over his bars?
And still...now he banned from the live streams cause he had three rounds and then choked
Y'all know he used to work at Dunkin' Donuts?
You gon' confirm it?

[Twork] Yeah I did

[Real Sikh]
Y'all know he used to work at Dunkin' Donuts?
That links down to this though
Cause he restricted to the app so when he ask Beas' 'bout the big shows
He back at the drive-thru cause Caffeine's out the window
Talkin' 'bout, "Donuts is 99 cents. It's on a board when you get in line."
His tall ass was behind the register and his forehead hit the side
The numbers were lopsided, when he turned around to fix the sign
That's when he said, "I got it. Bigga .9!"
Talkin' 'bout, I'm strapped in and I'll clap you in a coma
Bitch you should be askin' if Smack and them want a donut
I'll wave it back and forth, I be practicin' hypnosis
So I can get him out that madness if I snap at any moment
Roc had to turn his head, he couldn't quite see you die
Well I ain't ya mothafuckin' brother, I wanna see the life leave ya eyes
I'll smack you in coma, my hand heavy as ya .9
I'll have doctors rushin' in, tryin' to guess if you survive
They ready to pull the plug unless you give a sign
You gon' have to do the Twork hands to tell 'em you alive
I'm on that Jersey shit, that goin' all out shit
Real Sikh, and I'm the problem that you want rounds wit'?
You supposed to put in work, but that's wrong now bitch
Cause you can't show up to work when you call out Sikh (sick)
Jersey!