Ryda vs. Shotgun Suge

[Round 1: Ryda]
So we got Ryda vers’ Shotgun Suge
They said “we think the look’ll be great”
I didn’t see it that way
I mean I appreciate the gesture, but
I’m used to bitches feedin’ me Grapes
Now let’s get one thing straight
I don’t care if he bangin’ where he from
He died as a Grape, but they gon’ find him as a raisin in the Sun
We on to the races, and you gon’ need more than a gun
And Ryda (rider) know just how to get rid of Shotgun, and his Formula won (One)
Now let’s cook
I done survived evеry shot that a vet took
You on the West facin’ Natе Dogg, ‘bout to get one of the best hooks
Blade in him, you see his face? This is how death look
I twist it, then kept turnin’ it over like Westbrook
Ya boy shook
I need you to pay attention to every word that I’m sayin’
I don’t give a fuck about no blogs or what the fan votes is swayin’
Even if you had Danny Myers’ parallel universe, it still come wit’ limitations
New Spider-Man: ‘cause it’s No Way Home and ya Ben (been) dead in every situation
Ain’t no time off
Nigga you gotta be ready when the opps come
Ever since my Training Day, if I spot one, I got one
Long nose- nah, long blade or a bullet, I won’t leave until the job done
Long nose, Alfonso- no, Alonzo; I’m gettin’ surgical wit’ a Shotgun
It don’t cost nothin’ to get to heaven
Headshot, boy it ain’t no comin’ back from that
After you get this, you get in for free like a Midnight Madness tat’
Nigga you could die in your own city
Bitch, I give a fuck what your friends say
Funeral service, open casket: that’s how you put a Shotgun on display
What his life like?
Nigga fuck your slogan
I don’t care about any struggle or any burden you get to carry
Only time I care ‘bout what your life like is in an obituary
I’m too legit, who is this?
Losin’ it, provin’ it, Ruger clip
One bustin’ through your shit
A bullet’ll turn a Jersey backwards: a St. Lunatic
Spin cycle: Maytag
Shotgun: stain glass
Turn Jimmie Newsome into Jimmy Neutron: brain blast
You big bitch, nigga you’re so far from a thug
Sent Arsonal on a dummy mission wit’ Trick Trick where he said he ain’t knew who you was
Then Nitty said you was out here gettin’ robbed by some Crip niggas and you said that wasn’t quite what it was
See, now I can’t trust you, if it’s one thing I learned from ‘Pac, peep the setup
Why would a nigga wit’ the silk be fightin’ wit’ Suge?
I’m here for my respect, mufucka, and that’s what you gon’ give me
You ain’t deaf, mufucka, I know that you hear me
All I’m seein’ is envy, so I pull up wit’ semis
Or the old Drac’ (Drake), you wanna go back in the wheelchair, Jimmie (Jimmy)?
‘Cause right now, nigga all I’m seein’ is red
These travel at high speed like they duckin’ the feds
And I ain’t never seen a nigga come back from the dead
Nelly, Tim McGraw: it was all in his head
We know Suge like to dunk on niggas
I mean in his career, we done seen the shit a lot
But now, I’m takin’ charge, and the only thing left to do is beat him to the spot
Tell O Red, Arsonal, and Surf that we raise cans too
I’ll put the whole Goon Squad on Jersey, like Space Jam 2
I coulda been the shooter and the driver, you know, one hand on the wheel while I’m bustin’ the 40
But if you seen my battles wit’ Drugz then you know about my DUI and some of the story
See, I learned a lot in that situation, even though them classes were startin’ to bore me
But now a nigga know, if I want to up the up the fif’, takin’ Shotgun is the best thing for me
Only time tells
I could do 25 to life if this crime fails
If so, Ima just have to die on the inside like the Nine-Tails
Fuck Jersey, off rip, ain’t none of you niggas budgin’ me
Niggas talk so tough online, but act cool when they see me publicly
Fuck these fake ass friendships, if it’s up wit’ me, it’s stuck wit’ me
And Caffeine only paid me enough for one round, {pocket check}, I need enough for three
I tried to tell ‘em, that I don’t get along wit’ these niggas
You put a vet vers’ a bitch, I don’t belong wit’ these niggas
The churches gon’ have to sing a slow song for these niggas
Got me askin’ my partners like

[Crowd]
What the fuck wrong wit’ these niggas?

[Round 1: Shotgun Suge]
Let’s get one thing straight
We on Caffeine, I beat the boy live
I got the drop where the boy hide
It’s war, we handin’ out guns like a toy drive
I kidnap his daughter, and take his joy on a joyride
He ain’t sweet but he talk like he a violent guy
He prolly high
I slap you in your chest, you’ll prolly cry
Don’t ask me why
‘Cause you’ll prolly lie
‘Cause you’ll prolly lie
I’ll have your- I- do-
I’ll slap you in your chest, don’t ask me why
‘Cause I’ll prolly lie and tell your mother you somewhere you not like a alibi
I’ll beat you to death wit’ both hands, I gotta try
My, oh my
Drag Ryda (rider) through the dirt like a Yamaha
He traumatized, them llamas fly
His bitch gon’ have a rough Ryd’ (ride) when Ryda die
I’m tired of seein’ you talkin’ ‘bout you clappin’ the chrome
I’m tired of seein’ you talkin’ ‘bout you back in the zone
I’m tired of seein’ you talkin’ ‘bout you trap from your phone
Listen, we tired of seein’ you Chief, like Jackson Mahomes
Beasley called me, said, “Five figures what the homi’ pays”
Excuse my brolic ways
I’m strong like Johnny Cage
I’m on his block wit’ a lotta trays
I’ll turn you to a ghost, Ryda (Ghost Rider): Johnny Blaze
Whatchu know about bussin’ a Kel-Tec ‘til you gotta [?]
My dogs eatin’ like rawhide
He get hog-tied
They’ll have to clean your gums off the floor, Ryd’ (fluoride)
I cancel niggas’ careers anually
I got the power over Ryd’ (override) to shut him down manually
After I battled Calicoe, they turned they back on me
That was kind’ shady
They thought I’d give up, but my mind crazy
Don’t forget, I’m the legend nobody wanted like Tom Brady
Where I’m from, a conversation could go from cool, calm to make- a cr-
A conversation go from cool, calm, to makin’ it tragic
A conversation go from-
Where I’m from, a conversation can go from cool, calm, to makin’ it ha-

{Chokes and tries to remember his lines}

A conversation could go from cool, calm, to makin’ it physical
I dare niggas to spin back, we makin’ it critical
‘Cause goofy niggas like you think tints make you invisible
I got the drop on this dumb geek
I heard he in the BM wit’ his BM sittin’ on front street
Somebody said Ryd’-
Somebody said, “Shotgun, Ryda (rider) in the front seat”
Fuck you, fuck ya friends, and whoever else standin’ on this stage
I gather wit’ ya homies at your funeral and spill Henny on his grave
In the streets, I move vigilant
Gangbangin’, I was movin’ militant
I always dealt wit’ whatever came, I couldn’t choose my incidents
Growin’ up, you never felt guilty, you was proven innocent
So don’t tell me you gon’ punch, slap, shoot anybody; you should never be serious
Got his gangs mixed wit’ money and drugs, you should never be curious
‘Cause how the fuck you gon’ talk to me ‘bout some shit you ain’t never experience
You’s a fuckin’ follower, I’m suprised you ain’t reppin’ Blood
‘Cause the closest thing you got to “sex, money, murder”, is Jakkboy, Twork, and Drugz
I ain’t tryna glorify this shit
But I’m tired of niggas who never did nothin’ tryna glorify this shit
You like to name your guns? That shit don’t get real respect
You ain’t never had to peel a TEC
My OGs named me, was the only time namin’ a gun had a real effect
Smith & Wesson, the 30 scary
Desert storm, the 30 carry
The 50-cal already came wit’ a name: Dirty Harry
P9, mark for a Ruger, the steel bang
See where I’m from, we call our guns by they real names
It be niggas like you that try to bring me down
And the only reason you own a strap, is ‘cause it’s legal in your town
Big bands, they offerin’ that
That’s the price for his head, I’m offin’ that
Two Percs, I’m off of that
Bullets from the Eagle gon’ hurt when they cross his back
You think you can fuck wit’ me? You chewin’ edibles
Beef? My whole family masked up like The Incredibles
Guns is too accessible
Beam look like a decimal
He die outta nowhere, somethin’ stressin’ you
Heat put you on a shirt, I’m tired of pressin’ you
I’m too professional
Lettin’ him live, that’s unethical
That’s too regrettable
I bury him in his mother’s garden, I’m growin’ vegetables
You know he heard me
Got no fuckin’ slogan

[Crowd]
Jersey!