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J-Pro vs. Tycoon Tax
by
King of the Dot
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Lyrics
Listen, Jason, it’s time to pay respect Soon as they give me space to kill...I’m gettin’ Jason X’d How you tryna climb to the top, but can’t make a cent? When I pull out this Iron in daylight (Daylyt)...it ain’t the main event! .50-cal’, the last thing he heard was clappin’ I was shootin’ ‘til the .50 broke like Curtis Jackson It ain’t I Love Lucy when you see this Dezzi smoke He the type to say, “Two .9s’ll put you on ice like Gretzky’s coach!” Then be yellin’, “I been on the West Coast for years, but they still don’t respect me, though!” That’s ‘cause you not made for the big leagues So I had to give you the semi, Pro I pull out without warning Who said you had to get shot for a reason? So it ain’t that PG rapper when you see this Dot n***a reachin’ Soon as you heard about this match, every night, you was layin’ wit’ ya Bible Prayin’ for revival I’m Malcolm X: I win dough (window) stayin’ wit’ the rifle Stop frontin’, lil’ n***a Pat Stay is still your idol But streamin’ music is the only way that J’ll get the title (Tidal) You little f**kin’ Mexican… When you were sleepin’ in your taco PJs The whole strip was doin’ bids: my whole block was eBay Every time they invest in you, King of the Dot don’t see pay You just a Mexican that get paid to lose in the ring like Nacho Libre! (Boy, I am not playin’!) See, they helped create a monster like Igor So when I show up, I bug out like a screen door Homie, all you do is yell You think that’s gonna make the West Coast want you on they team more? You ain’t what the West cravin’ (Wes Craven), so why you always Scream for? This is battle rap So don’t turn these words into somethin’ else like a anagram You just a joke on film like Candid Cam’ If me and this corn beef, a f**kin’ wig shot’ll have your brains lookin’ like a can of Spam If this b*t*h Pro test (protest), he’ll die after the mugshot like Sandra Bland! f**k is wrong wit’ this n***a, man? West End sh*t Yo, you get love from your hometown, but all that co-signin’ is fake You ride for the 6, fo’-five in your waist I’ll turn this into Quentin Miller, and have your ghost ridin’ (ghostwritin') with Drake! The 6 God, I’m sick, god, on my YOLO set You only live once, you don’t pose no threat Peace to Nickolas Brigante, the true Toronto vet I’m killin’ Nicky’s (Nicki’s) man on the screen like OVO Fest! You are meek, weak, garbage for real Y’all ain’t seen a Tax (attacks) this bad since Parliament Hill Zehaf-Bibeau, I’ll snatch your soul, get ya spine ripped I’ll snap in Ontario (snappin' on Terio): it ain’t a fat kid on a Vine clip! Ooh, kill ‘em! I kill everybody, you get killed by everybody Know the difference How did Tax get Rum? That’s Prohibition You got killed by Tax: death row position Still, they gave you Cort’ (court), so y’all are co-defendants See, Gully hyped him up So did ‘Ganik and all his people He was supposed to be the thug from Canada wit’ the street flow But now he’s feelin’ like Pete Carroll: shoulda handed him off to Beast Mode BeastMODE! BeastMODE! Shout out to BeastMode, ya know what I mean? I’m just sayin’ Shout out to BeastMode! You ain’t a beast, bro What y’all been smokin’? You’d be bottom 5 in Cali, a fraud in Oakland But you’re big here, right? Vince Carter posin’ You ain’t a shooter in Toronto - you just got the same f**ked-up face as DeMar DeRozan! Yeah! Catch these bars in your acne scars I don’t play fair Your favorite Instagram filters? Valencia and Mayfair And I seen yo’ b*t*h on Instagram chillin’ in the cut You need to drop her - that girl’s belly is bigger than her butt! But I get it, you don’t get pu**y, so you think her ass is insane How you battle Shotgun, then marry a girl that looks exactly the same? Plus, she’s got a 15-year-old son! I gotta point this out! How you raisin’ a teenager when you’re still a little boy yourself!? Yo, listen to me, do what I did Get out the ‘hood, go to school, buy a pad for your mother Don’t listen to this fake gangsta Your stepdad is a sucka! Yo, what the f**k are you talkin’ about? I’ll kick your ass, you lil’ vato I don’t give a f**k, go tell Paco Carlos is a known hitter in Toronto like Delgado You don’t belong here, you belong in L.A Go sell tacos This Mexican couldn’t escape these bars if he was El Chapo! See, I’m really in the ‘hood, tryna break up pounds Every time I see Pro, he flop: that’s LeBron tryna take a foul I don’t give a f**k We can clear the place out now Put him to sleep, he gon’ need more than that pyramid scheme to wake up now Wooooow…wooooow... Another big card, and I made it All you do is spit wack punchlines that are mad outdated I just copped a brand new AK, and I’ll spray it Y’all seen that new movie? I’ll be in the West rockin’ (Rock in) a chopper like San Andreas Here we go, time to leave a worldwide mess again Every battle I’m in, I get called Mexican, every four or five sentences I hate these mothaf**kas, too! Don’t call me a hypocrite and don’t write messages I’m Donald Trump: a Tycoon that don’t like Mexicans! My n***a just caught a body today You better slide back like the moonwalk Or get shot next tonight (to Knight) like 2Pac That’s crazy… Give him three holes and throw him in the gutter like a bowling ball This n***a from the West wearin’ a wire: that’s Kanye wit’ a broken jaw You got goons in L.A.? You can know ‘em all I don’t care what the procedure is…there’ll be no one for Pro to call (protocol) I was on the road, givin’ out work like a business trip And now I’m home, bringin’ him back pain like he slipped his disk You got two options: either slit your wrists, or get your face lit up like a Christmas gift! Ya done! That’s bars Did y’all peep his Rap Grid interview? He was like, “Man, I was in New Jersey, I was stuck in the ‘hood, a-and people had tattoos. I was f**kin’ scared.” For real, he said, “I’m used to goin’ to parties with punch bowls and Chex mix.” You did- you said that sh*t, right? I guess it’s not in your DNA, partner, like Rex b*t*h Ain’t you Dot Mobb? K-Shine still order trannies? Drake still treatin’ Mook like Orphan Annie? Huh? Drake still treatin’ Mook like Orphan Annie, or nah? Rex gettin’ paid- no? Rex gettin’ paid to go to war with Danny? He was, right? 12K or some sh*t? (*laughs*) Rex gettin’ paid to go to war with Danny? All my wins are (R) KOs: I’ll Orton Randy! Yo, you seen me at Queen Elizabeth: I’m a savage early I’mma have you feelin’ like you’re back in Jersey Leave your dog standin’ stiff: that’s taxidermy I’ll stitch him up I’ll make it easy (Eazy) on the doc, then it’s back to Compton Put wings on your body: that’s a Aston Martin Spirit flyin’ through the sky on a magic carpet I’m just fightin’ wit’ a Ghost like Action Bronson You don’t belong on this stage, and that’s a fact! I’m charged up and I’m goin’ back-to-back I’m after Mr. Magic like Rap Attack I’m droppin’ Tax (tacks) in the ring like Cactus Jack! Wrestling bars, mothaf**ka! Let’s go! I got real bars Hell nah, it’s that easy I just roll in wit’ weaponry You know the conspiracy I’m an American, I use Tax to dominate: this is Global Supremacy! America! Spain! It’s been pure abomination Ecuadorians have always been victims of World Domination! Two Latinos in the ring, but we spit different You are Donald Trump: this Mexican got your wig flippin’! See, yo… I don’t know if you realize this, but you are in the 6 by yourself I’m with all my n***as Who got this dummy all hype? It’s like a GoFundMe account: my clique’ll raise money on site Everybody thinkin’ Ty’ phony, ‘til I turn into Tie Domi from the Maple Leafs I’m tryna make enough bread to cop a fresh Rolls like a bakery n***a, no one gives a f**k about you or your ancient schemes When the Smith come out the closet singin’...it will not be “Stay With Me”! You better duck when them cannons flash Keep it low, Pro Now they see I’m punchin’ nuts: that’s a low blow You’re the one I put arms around next (necks) like a chokehold I’m ‘bout that action on cam’ Do you really wanna go, Pro? (GoPro) See, I’m tired Every f**kin’ battle, I gotta hear this and that Cortez was supposed to buck it (bucket) on my head like a fishing cap Shotgun Suge was supposed to pocket-check me - pssh, picture that These n***as is politicians They all lyin’ when they say they gon’ get rid of Tax Let’s go, c’mon, I’m here, man! I got a cal’ for what’s at stake if you lookin’ for beef I’ll leave J cold (Cole) wit’ a Crooked Smile after he get a hook wit’ the beats I’m a hustler, so I’m a food truck ‘cause I cook in the streets Everything I got I cop wit’ drug money like crooked police! Sheesh! Nowadays, all these n***as act so tough Errybody tryna prove they bad Thinkin’ they got the juice…’til they facin’ the punch like the Kool-Aid Man Damn...see, yo, when y’all said this n***a was gon’ beat me, that was a knee-slapper Now this n***a from Los Angeles takin’ a L: I’m flippin’ his team backwards Beefin’ wit’ this n***a from the 6, you’ll be lookin’ like Meek after all of the mean laughter I got so many bars, I swear to God I got Rap Grid wishin’ they could tweet faster! You’re done West End sh*t, ROS Dot Mob Toronto, n***a Yo…(*chuckles*) Why’d I take this battle, man? This sh*t isn’t logical You had us hangin’ on to the bottom of the flyer like Mission: Impossible He did, though, right? You read the comments on YouTube? What’s the deal really? You got the trailer trashed like a hillbilly And Avo’ works hard on them trailers Give it up for Avocado, y’all! Avo’ does all them trailers, and it’s for the Culture But they give you thumbs-down ‘cause you’re a corny poser Let’s get it all on the table: it’s a cornucopia Tax (Tacks) is holdin’ up greatness like a Jordan poster A .45 on your back and you’re DOA You ain’t a gangster, Carlos, it’ll be OK Kleinfeld to Benny Blanco, we don’t play Yo, Brigante! I’mma do this Carlito’s Way! Carlito, you ain’t gettin’ on the train tonight Yeah, I overuse similes the way I write But some of these haters are too afraid to say I’m nice But you seek validation on social media - your whole life is based on likes! Yeah, my verse got more likes than a Instagram model I tag all these rappers and I ain’t lookin’ for an Instagram follow ‘Cause all y’all mu’f**kas got the same material I’ll kill ‘em in the 6 wit’ one .9: Rey Mysterio! Take off your f**kin’ mask, then hit you in your pork belly! I’m just counselin’ (council in) the Dot like Norm Kelly! West Coast
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