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J-Pro vs. 100 Bulletz
by
King of the Dot
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Lyrics
Ayo… The last time we saw you, that JC performance was hot You spit that lava But your best concepts? I’m the one you bit that off of The rest was recycled bars you had for T-Dubb-O, and you flipped that proper So I guess you recycle, Bulletz (bullets), like Hitman Holla But to be a hitman, you need steady grip, heavy fifs You’re only like Hitman Holla ‘cause it’s the same Bulletz (bullets)...every clip! Reverse punchlines, local sports bars, get the crowd in a frenzy quick I’ll leave little pieces of Bulletz (bullets) spread everywhere - you’d think a semi spit! But I don’t need a gat Your arms are shorter than the Conceited rack at the Fetus Gap You’re lazy and fallin’ off like Norbes’ face - let me even that You probably got X-rayed-ed at Norbes’ place for a PG match What happened in your Proving Ground battle? I hear from Twitter It was the worst PG to flop since Derek Fisher That was your dream This is real life, the air is thicker 100 Bulletz (bullets) ain’t sh*t when you don’t flare the trigger You took an L to Dan, took an L to ‘Cane The Saurus beat you ‘cause we didn’t know what the hell you were sayin’ You just pointed to the crowd and yelled some names And that was the best we seen from the Bulletz (Bullets) since Elvin Hayes That sh*t was wack, but truthfully, I can’t tell ya He’s holdin’ the camera, that’s a hand-helder You were up there lookin’ like the sign language guy who did that Mandela (He looks like that motherf**ker - you know it, look at him) Yo, schemes can be cool When Chilla does it, I define it as skill But you’re an innocent bystander - you gon’ die just tryna be Chill’ You keep callin’ out Chilla Jones, and he won’t even acknowledge you He’s on a level that you’re tryin’ to reach - why would he bother to? As far as schemin’, he’s a god to you You scheme rappers are comical! Just a bunch of words that barely go together, but you convince them that it’s logical I’m terrible at schemes, it’s a terrible way to rap You try to cater to SMACK ‘cause your face is Black But every time you drop a N-bomb, it’s a racist act Around SMACK rappers, it’s Black Power wit’ the big pride But we all know the truth...Bulletz (bullets) is powder on the inside You act hard in Toronto, God bless your soul But what happened in the Bay? You were less than bold I picked you up from the airport, you prepped a role Soon as you touched down, you turned white: Tecmo Bowl! Like, “Hi, I’m Karsten, but Bulletz is my rap name You know, bullets, ‘cause I’m known for more gunplay than Max Payne?” You rap lame You use schemes that are hard to catch live, so they forget half But most of your sh*t makes very little sense when they reflect back Organik conjured up this scheme, and I respect that But it’s your fault when I put 100 bullets through his neck fat! We’re both punchers, so these fans think our sh*t’s the same But we’re in different lanes I was duckin’ real bullets in 7th grade, while he was playin’ wizard games I battled on the blocks of the opps, where I live today I was handin’ out more toe tags than AAA You make claims without evidence, I use the truth You make up fake guns, I’m Bullet-proof You say guns don’t kill people and Bulletz (bullets) do But what good is a bullet without the tool to shoot? Alright, look… I can’t yell, so y’all gotta listen You only got this match ‘cause you on King of the Dot’s payroll Every battle, this lil’ midget screamin’ with the same flow They want me to battle Conceited, Clips...Organik gave me J-Pro The next time you ask me for a favor, I’mma say no How’d I end up in this useless battle? I feel like Vietnam survivors A waste of time Our skill levels further apart than Brandy’s eyes are You’re here because you’re staff! You think you’re someone fans admire? You pull strings to get feedback on stage: he’s Jimi Hendrix’s amplifier! Tell this man retire, or the red dot sing like Pakistani choirs I been schemin’ to cook you: concentration camp designers The cannon fired faster than Amanda Bynes’ brand advisor! Arms out squeezin’ more than Rum Nitty vers’ Danny Myers! They booked you for the cheap labour, you don’t spit wit’ the best of ‘em Hopped the border and nobody want him here...typical Mexican Tell your 75 dirty cousins get back in the car If I buck the pistol That’s big rockets aimed at you eses (USA) like Russian missiles Everything I touch official You ain’t goin’ close to HAM Got him thinkin’ it’s a food drive, a bunch of n***as holdin’ cans Show up at his funeral wit’ the Heckler, roast his fam’ Then give him a couple bucks while he sleepin’ in a box like a homeless man When Pro active (Proactiv), it’s another mark You so backwards, I don’t feel safe You from Oxnard? Go back to the Ox’ He moronic, this amateur Pro real fake You just food on my meal plate Shoot yourself...Cheddar Bob (He look just like Cheddar Bob) Another dreamer killed by Bulletz (bullets) - shout out to Coretta Scott You know who I am, J? MJ Shoot the J from any spot When I give J the pound, Pro, P.S., you ain’t gettin’ props You’ll lose money bettin’ Pro lines, these punches never stop When I whoop n***as, they all left wit’ no rights: Swave Sevah’s pops! You gettin’ leaned from these bars: they the limbo type They said, “Bet 100, Bulletz, and you win dough, right?” You shoulda ducked 100 Bulletz - Innuendo tight Now you duckin’ 100 bullets in ya window like, “Hit the deck!” Any disrespect, this kid won’t fight Act hard, I’ll dock the whole card up like Bingo night What up, Canada? This my home and I been so nice Knockin’ n***as out in my own backyard: I’m Kimbo Slice! You said I do work for King of the Dot on the West Coast This sucka is right! I’ve done more for this company in a year than you’ve done in your life! And on that Cheddar Bob sh*t, you really think you split heads? So I’m gon’ c*ck it back and just pop this d**khead In Innuendo, you’re the co-captain Your leader is a coke addict, plus he has a smoke habit Remy claims he wrote classics for Yung Ill, but his own career is below-average And Bonnie’s a pro on both sides of the balls: Bo Jackson! Y’all know what a “thot” is? T-H-O-T - “That Hoe Over There” wit’ a fat twat You’re on a Quest to find love, but Bonnie’s just another Black thot (Thought)! (What? What?) What you gon’ do, you ho b*t*h!? Came to the stage lookin’ like a f**kin’ glow stick! (What? What’s up!?) Yo, y’all pretend to be a couple in public - that’s a bad plot The only time we’ll see Bulletz in Bonnie is when Math finds out she gets ass shots! Lotta Zay said, “f**k Innuendo!” He was fed up wit’ them fools He got wit’ Team Homi ‘cause they’re better as a crew Remy preaches nonviolence, QP’s set up wit’ the tool The only bullets (Bulletz) he ever stripped is a member of his crew See, I was asked to join Innuendo twice They said it’s for street punchers like Kimbo Slice How is that real? None of that info’s right Y’all wake up every morning tryna get your URL intro right Like “100 Bulletz - strengths include: reverse punchlines that make no f**king sense” f**k your reverse punchlines! That’s Pootie Tang speech This a slaughterhouse! Blood everywhere! More Type Os (typos) than a Gucci Mane tweet! You characters go crazy when he’s droppin’ a rhyme! But listen to the content back when you watch it online You’re reactin’ to the idea of his plot and design But he throws more robotic punches than Optimus Prime Robotic b*t*h! I’m wastin’ Bulletz (bullets) like a mobster movie wit’ a Tommy clip I’ll put a fork in your grill: Maserati whip! (What’s up!? That’s my man! That’s my man!) Robotic b*t*h! I’ll put a fork in your grill: Maserati whip You named yourself after a weapon, but you’ll prob’ly p*ss When that gat is (Gattas) kissin’ your cheek on some Bonnie sh*t! Bonnie got turned out by Gattas, it’s a damn shame And Remy couldn’t make it ‘cause he’s got back pain from takin’ more Ds than Smack name! I’m stylin’! SMDLDLDLDL- THAT name! Innuendo - in the end, you win dough!? When does that math change!? QP’s only bangin’ Innuendo ‘cause he’s goin’ through a glass phase! I was supposed to battle that piece of sh*t twice! f**k him! You’re using QP’s leftover bars for me, I can’t let it slide by Two weeks ago, he was on Facebook and threatened to air Bulletz (bullets) out like a drive-by Then Remy got on his O-Red sh*t and told him, “Nah, nah!” What good is 100 Bulletz (bullets) when your clip shorter than Grind Time? So f**k everybody! I’m goin’ kamikaze Your schemes are fraudulent, money, and it’s not a Ponzi Your frame is shaped kinda oddly I’ll leave three holes in your head and go bowling wit’ your entire body! I’mma be clownin’ yo’ funny-ass shape all day Try to Sway, but you don’t got the answers: Kanye I’ll leave your brain on the side of the ring: Andre Then walk around wit’ Bulletz (bullets) in a bag: John Wayne! I’ll put Bulletz in a bag, go out and prey the hunted Get money clipped, that’s where I’ll place 100 I been (Ben) Frank, it’s the only way to face 100 We need change - I just showed you how to break 100! Alright, look… I said, it ain’t Friday the 13th, but Jason’ll die Around danger, you a stewardess: take off and change on the fly Jason bigs (Biggs) himself, but he a 4-foot, baby-faced guy You here to battle rap or audition for Canadian Pie? Look at your bird chest, them scrawny arms You practically a kid You the same size as Illmac...when Illmaculate was six! You got a sippy cup, a high chair, a napkin for a bib He tell hoes, “Come back to the crib”...and it’s actually a crib! On cam’, I’ll clutch the W, my wordplay on its own level 100 Bulletz a known devil You’ll get a pallbearer, Undertaker, and Tombstone if me and Pro wrestle Slow it down, speed it up, ain’t no tellin’ how it might go Make your choice, Pro: it’s shin or ab That’s life, Pro Reverse that - I’m takin’ Pro life That’s ab or shin: it’s Pro choice Speed it up! I’m takin’ pro-life That’s abortion: it’s pro-choice! Check the footage, toe-to-toe, I leave ‘em all wit’ a tag He said Aftershock was gay - who Jason callin’ a fag? Reserve a center for the Hawk, maybe revolver or mag’ When the pair is (Paris) around, this little Mexican dog in a bag! I went from JC to J-Pro - someone get me a noose Rob Ford smoke crack rocks bigger than you It’s 50 Tyson vers’ 50 Tysons This ain’t a rapper you should offer I’ll drop him now! Regulate, Nate Dogg: the hooks proper! Knock him down, you’ll look up to a Shotgun like Suge’s daughter! Pop a round 24/7: that’s a good father! JC, J-Pro, none of them rappers impressed The last two Js I crossed got smoked: Pineapple Express! Wit’ yo’ bars, I’m like, “Nah...I don’t kick it wit’ J” But I’mma find where your girl at while I’m grippin’ the K And it’s gettin’ real disrespectful like when this spit in her face Nah, I said it’s gettin’ real disrespectful like when Diz’ spit in Eurgh face Time! Yo… You talked about my girl - she’s a dime piece wit’ her Master’s degree Your wife looks like Bob Backlund, mine is bad as can be You’re a part-time dad and a battle MC Who jacks off to Bonnie Godiva selfies and SMACK DVDs She wins at life! At Blackout 3, your wife must’ve hated the sh*t Like, “Karsten, aren’t you gonna play with your kids?” “I can’t, babe. I’m gettin’ ready for this melee with Rich Then I gotta go make copies of these PayPal statements for Diz’” Reverse that - you made copies and showed up wit’ a backpack to expose ‘Cane? You’re so lame He beat you at your own game, so you hopped on Dizzy’s sack like Coltrane You’re basically Diz’s secretary, you’re a no-name with no shame How the f**k do you share lines wit’ QP, but couldn’t hold ‘Cane (‘caine)? And Charron told your lil’ secret to the squad when they were back tourin’ How you post on aliases on hip-hop message boards every damn mornin’ You talk sh*t about the staff on ‘em, and then you act foreign? Well, just like those message boards you post on, it’s a wrap for him (rap forum) You’re a new troll! Can’t go forward or back up now: you’re in neu-tral! Tryna get on Chill’ level, but it’s too cold I use flow to stretch Bulletz (bullets) like Manute Bol! I’m an OG, old beast, you’re obese You pop off, Bulletz, but never hold heat This must be how Washington felt about their home team When they realized the Bulletz (Bullets) is no longer in a Pro’s league! I’ll toss your lifeless body in an ocean or lake They’ll have to snatch Bulletz (bullets) from the rivers like Antonio Gates I don’t have to hear your album to know that it’s fake Bishop executive-produced it, and he’s homies wit’ Drake If you were worth the investment, they’d have opened the bank Instead, you’re spammin’ social networks promotin’ your tape There’s a difference between spam and promotion Somebody get him a helper ‘Cause I been blockin’ more link attacks than The Legend of Zelda Like “@SMACKWHITE @Beasley Retweet my album, dawg! Here’s a track called ‘My Whole Life’. It’s a family song” Ayo, Bishop, you’ve got him managed wrong There’s no way to light the fuse of this cannonball I got a URL wit’ a bad link - you’re even spammin’ wrong That’s why your album is sellin’ for 71 cents on Amazon! Have y’all heard this f**ker rap on a beat!? f**k 100 Bulletz! I’ve got enough ammo to last for a week He tries so hard to sound gangsta To me, this fool sounds whiter than the gap in my teeth So I came to tell you your music f**kin’ sucks to your face Your beats are just like QP: they’re always in need of more bass (base) So put your money on him, you won’t cover the bet Double your debt If you give Bulletz (bullets) a round: that’s Russian Roulette Reverse that - Russian Roulette around Bulletz give him one to the head! What up? Alright, look, I beat three King of the Dot champs From Ground Zero, earned my tribal scars This right here is what happens when you let battle forums decide your stars But I see what n***as gotta do to get good matches from the guy in charge Drench themselves in Daylyt’s ball sweat and start buyin’ bars But I got dope lines: cocaine They blow your mind: Cobain What you brought this Black out to Blackout for? To black out for a no-name!? Da Don got n***as doin’ the Running Man: Soul Train I heard at his pad, he around beef, I ain’t playin’ no games Herd, patty, round beef, I stay cookin’, the fo’ flame You gassed? Heat ya grill Big cans bringin’ Pro pain (propane)! You studyin’ law? Don’t take the stand Tryna pass the bar like he legit Beatin’ the rap ain’t probable cause You give him a tourney try, I’ll weave wit’ it That counter suit ya good, after a cross examine your teeth and lips! Better hope the league’ll aid or the silencer make him plead the fif’! You ain’t half as good! A third, a fraction You clashin’ wit’ a word assassin! Off wit’ his head’s my first reaction! This comic dead: I’ll Bernie Mac him! Cease and desist, no further actions Or you deceased and this is where the murder happens! Burner clappin’, 100 bullets, 50 sent: no Curtis Jackson! This my new hobby, since Dexter Morgan’s finished I kill people who deserve it, but more sadistic I’m morbid, twisted, contorted, twisted Morphin’ critics to a corpse’s image Push forward limits, the Earth gravitational force and flip it, ignorin’ physics I’m more horrific than Chuck Norris kickin’ this disproportioned midget ‘til his organs splittin’! I’m morbid, gifted, contorted, vicious Morals shifted, the Lord’s my witness I eat kids like alley cats that live behind abortion clinics! In my lifetime, there’s no reasonable doubt The hard knocks, I wouldn’t take it back To me, it’s all a gift and a curse, but a dynasty’s what I’m aimin’ at So I’ll send this American gangster to Kingdom Come The Holy Grail, pray to that Or just watch the throne ‘cause this the blueprint that’ll make J fade to black! That’s 3-zip! #BodyBag - Retweet! A Mexican in my house? It’s guaranteed to be a clean sweep And I hope Jason brought his lil’ mask and a bulletproof hoodie, too ‘Cause they was right: guns don’t kill people…(Bulletz do!) This was light! Light! Get me real opponents and I’ll start writin’!
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