Tay Roc vs JC

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
Just know in one of these rounds I'ma do you somethin' tragic
Which means either you gone get bodied or have a fuckin' classic
I’m the one that spazzes
Treat every battle like Summer Madness
Sleep on me 'til that comfy bed become a casket
Faggot, did Smack sign you up to die or what?
Good with the clippers, I bet he fade when I line him up
The 9 is tucked and this iron buck
If you try your luck like you’re drunk
Take a shot to the head: that’s bottoms up
I’m bein' blunt, but you ain’t high enough
I’m the type to kick it with you then kick in ya door and tie you up
I caught him with his bitch, I had time enough
I whipped out my blade and laid my MAC down
She knew I wasn’t tryna fuck
Goon shit, in this hockey mask like a Mighty Duck
With a hockey stick I’m treatin' his head like a hockey puck
His head woulda had enough knots, but that’s not enough
I beat this nigga like the soda machine when my dollar’s stuck
We take change like a Spade’s game, get your diamonds cut
We strapped with them ladders in the whip: that’s a fire truck
That shotty dump, leave drama slumped
Docs ain’t seen nobody with this many bucks on him since Donald Trump
Time is up, let me catch you with your soft squad
I take every shot with no assist: I’m a ballhog
I don’t leave a witness to call log
Like I’ll get you hit with a sawed-off
And every nigga that saw off’d
That’s wordplay, I got plenty more though
Like if it’s war and they send me, all you’ll get hit with a semi-auto
This nigga act up tonight, he won’t see tomorrow
Money shoulda left me alone like I need to borrow
Dig me? You an actual dead guy
Gun Bar King, niggas get clapped when the lead fly
You’ll be suited lookin' like a bachelor just died
Leave you layin' in a casket that’s half of his bed size
That’s how I pray for all of them
Your daughter and ya aunt and them
You gotta call 9-11, my niggas plain bomb on them
I’m like fuck you and your squadron
I always look in a bul's eye when I’m targetin'
Pardon him but dude is trippin'
'Til I turn into Bishop off this Juice I’m sippin'
But the difference
I can shoot through houses with this tool I’m grippin'
These choppers hold extensions, but this new edition
Through the scope I could hit kids, I got super vision
I can clear a lot when this Uz' sprayed off
I went to Newark and dropped a K and copped a new AR
That’s two guns to knock his toupee off
I let one ring, one on hold: that’s a two-way call
You ain’t hard, I don’t believe whatever you confess
I got navigation for whatever you address
I’ll get you robbed for whatever you have left
Like exorcisms, takin' him off of whatever he posses
I got bars, gun line after gun line, in fact
You saw what I did to the last rookie from Pontiac
I sent his soul where Rich Dolarz at
You see URL need some type of Magic to bring that Zombie back
I fuck niggas up, more than likely a fag dyin'
I’ll leave a golf ball hole in one when I grab iron
JC, you ran into Roc at a bad timin'
You the second Pontiac I fucked up, I got bad drivin'
I take what I want, there’s no askin' him
I couldn’t wait to punch his mic around, Joe Jackson him
It’s only right that I’m toe taggin' him, close casket him
Have bullets goin' in and out of Carter: dope traffickin'

[Round 1: JC]
Ayy, this a big business
You gotta become a savage in seconds
Make a lastin' impression and stick with it
Now this could either help you or harm you
And I ain't exactly been known for gift givin'
Besides, every arm I've ever lent done had clips in it
Now you can stand here and act like this can't turn up
You've been awfully quiet
But if I get bored with you, a board hit you, nigga I'll start a riot
I tried to tell him right when he signed he was out of his mind
But y'all wanna ignore this shit, now I'm torchin' the 5th
They gone have to wrap him up
And get spatulas for what the coroners missed
Now them basic rhymes
But I'm facin' time for these innovative lines
They played rewind, said you was nice, basically lyin'
Now you get all throwaways, watch, just for wastin' my time
One call, your fam missin', I'm van whippin'
He usin' a bus pass, I pass bustin' past the bus
Caught him in public tran-slippin'
But what you want me to do?
You want me to flip your little bars and tell you who you lost to? See, that's where these boys lost
I ain't even give a fuck about who you were until the coin toss
But they all know me, right? And dog not waitin'
And a portion of that come from my Kevorkian practise
I damn near lost all my patience
Now to them, that could mean absolutely nothin'
To him, that's a bad life
That passion gone get him past Christ
When niggas see the shit from my pen, men ship-jump
I write that nice! (penmanship)
A nigga showed me a picture of Roc
And said "You wanna throw darts for fun?"
I said elaborate, he showed me a list of names, said target one
I said you know what? I don't care about NONE of them niggas
He said you sound like all of us
So y'all talk to son and let him know y'all knew he was a bitch before I called him one
But y'all think this a match? Well y'all trippin'
You the reason kings sacrifice pawns nigga
Push that button, all you gone see is men in black and cars flippin'
Y'all victims, y'all can play that
But we're preditors, we breed better, y'all need effort
Even though they sayin' your quotes
They think you a joke: you Heath Ledger
Now let's just say this a even match
And believe in fact you are nice and they didn't lie
You got me, so you don't know
Whether you're bein' rewarded or penalized
Let's get it simplified
They don't want you ahead, they wanted yo head
To disarm a unarmed G
And the fact that they even wanna broadcast this broad's cast is beyond me
But this is way more than a step down for me
This is a free fall, no parachute
But a pair of Paramount picture sized clips
That's what I've prepared for you
Now apparently he don't know what I mean by Paramount
So picture this…
A shot from each hammer across you: that's a pair amount
No, picture this: one arm for each half of his crew, I'll pair 'em out
Pop a flare
Y'all gone let these broke niggas die like ObamaCare
This my section
And when I get to dissectin' this dyke's section
He gone die in seconds
Prove me wrong, them clips movie long
I don't give a fuck if you can act
Out here you got the starring role
You that main nigga we shootin' at, see we shootin' straps
You unarmed niggas ain't shootin' back
Y'all try to run, we shootin' backs
Gats is sparkin', he wanted action? Start it
You a active target, but my click poppin'
With big choppers that'll knock Big Momma back to Martin!
But let's bring truth to it
Targets, we don't move around 'em but we move through it
But you stupid
For lettin' them mournin' your death just for YouTubin'
You know what he told me? "Spare you!"
You know what I told him? "Find a spare you!"
You expendable, I got a scope
He interviewed during his interview
That chest shot gave him a inner view of the inner you
You know what's funny? I go all over killin' dudes
Y'all seen me, is this new?
I was taught to go long runnin' with whoever head they pitchin' to
But this is who I end up with…
I'm glad you still around for this shit
But do not go back to that Cave yet
'Cause there's still two more rounds of this shit

[Round 2 : Tay Roc]
You remind me of Shorty Doo Wop, you don’t pop 4’s
I show up to ya door with a snot nose: that’s a Roscoe
In his crib I was decoratin' with shots though
Puttin' 5 in his back when I let a flock go
You a league hopper, I'ma put you in ya place
You gone get what you urn: that’s ashes in a vase
Let me demonstrate, nigga I ain’t Organik
You’ll really get bodied if I put 100 Bulletz in ya face
I beat niggas that ain’t in ya ranks
I already sonned Will, I’m Phillip Banks
And you Carlton, clown nigga on every scene
I shoulda deaded you a long time ago instead of Qleen
Lil’ nigga watch ya lips or get swole shit
I have you walkin' with a Crooked Smile: J. Cole shit
I’m runnin' Yac, lil nigga you don’t control shit
Since he from the Yac, I'ma kill with old shit
Like… I’m back, warn him that I’m liable to snap on him
Swing a bat on him, no jokin' when it crack on him
Smack put racks on him, it’s a wrap for him
Another Yak town nigga I'ma kill, but I'ma pour a 'Gnac on him
Just ask Will, they’ll find ya ass killed
Do you wanna know how the trunk of that Pontiac feel?
You from Pontiac? Cool, lil’ Pontiac chill
Or I’ll put high beams in lil’ Pontiac grill
And ya arrogant act just ain’t right
You ain’t got be Conceited just 'cause y'all niggas the same height
But fuck the jokes, I’ll get you bodied in plain sight
This two-piece ain’t a left hook or straight right
Headshot when I clap at JC
If D MC don’t run I’ll Jam Master JC
I ain’t ask for JC, but this is who you give me? Fine
Smack, I’ll give the shots, but when Surf gone give me mine?
Not just him… Calicoe, Charlie too
2014, I’m tryna get rid of all of you
Julian, let me talk to you, these bullets cost Cash Money
They’ll kiss his Baby and go through Carter too
I said that wrong, that Cash Money will get son hit
Leave his Baby in tears 'cause she ain’t get one kiss
Even Lil Wayne will tell you that I don’t trust shit
That’s why I made sure all my shooters in the truck fit (Trukfit)
So what’s up? Get everythin' from ya nose and up broken up
I’ll get sir rocked/Cîroc in his coconut
You the type of nigga that I run up on
Tuck my hammers then fold you up
Once these Hit, man, ya brother gone have to hold you up
Get close enough, then Dose you up, leave you swollen up
Put ya head through a wall while I got you in a Cobra clutch
I throw a punch, it’s like drinkin' liquor and usin' bread to soak it up
One will leave you leanin', the other will help you sober up
Hollows in this .45 make it fortified
Battle rappers that you glorify I have horrified
Nigga I will have ya life flashin’ right before ya eyes
Hit ya heart, lung and liver because I’m organized
Smack know I ain’t playin' with these new bitches
Another body by Christmas? Nigga I’m too gifted
This nigga think he beatin' me? He must be too twisted
Or hittin’ trees like Paul Walker when the coupe drifted

[Round 2: JC]
I ain’t heard shit that gassed in my fuckin’ life
I’m sayin' you out yo mind nigga
Dome shots, now you layin' without yo mind nigga
You don’t think before you speak anyway
Say it without yo mind nigga
You fuckin’ coked-out ass battle rappers are payin’ for the wrong lines nigga
'Cause see me, I’m that crazy one
Who figured how to mastermind a pen
Savage rhymes, craftin' lines nicer than the one Madeline was in
And they brought you to me
Now usually you pay double, but you face trouble
Y’all want us to clash, you ain’t even qualified to play Ruzzle
Nobody runnin’ from you, fuck, nobody watchin’ you
Stop stoppin’ and start stoppin’ through
You a Guantanamo Bay prisoner
Clearly behind the worst bars possible
And it’s fucked up 'cause the ass whoppings ain’t worth the views
Y’all know I ain’t do my research on dude
How many flips y'all heard me use?
Not one, this spot done, you top gun, but in a case full of pistols
My shots go straight out, you ain’t takin’ shit with you
Dome shot, they say it’s official, ouch
We skip the dots and hit the dots, sailors could fish you out
My type don’t mix with scouts
We can’t find you, we take the shit you can’t live without
Come find us, time's up, get the shovel
He try to run he get tied up: busy schedule
I grip and lift the metal
That mag need toe (Magneto) tags, I’m gettin' several
Lead pop, bring that fast life to a dead stop
Scoop up dog quicker than Craig’s pops
Red dots, those arms come out you goin' home: Red Foxx
Now you tell me is this an accurate statement
These niggas know what you about, you ain’t even half ya rap
Nigga say if 500 people even cared you exist
Could be the biggest reach in battle rap
But I’m so much better than all you niggas
I try to push it through they mind
I’m backpackin’, mad stabber, leave them lyin’ with this bullet from
Nah, see lines like that, that’s okay
But it gets so gassed today
That niggas like him survive
When he should be penalized for takin' half my space
Now it’s 'cause of you I’m on this stage I’m mad
See you the kind I’d shelf
Next time either find me a better opponent or let me be on it by myself
You not a general, bitch you expendable, bred for destruction
Dome shot, straight through, turn his head to a funyon
You wanna know what’s funny?
I feel like I’m more at home than you in this nifty spot
You wanna know what else?
I didn’t knock or pick the lock and bitch you missed the spot
Matter fact you might not even be the shooter
You probably got one of your homies to bust it for him
Well I got homies too and for a few Benji’s will bend G
And it’ll be a whole lot of money foldin’
I told this muthafucker, I got long clips for the wrong sense
Long distance, if we 57, I’m raw with it
Them barrels bust like Diddy car hit it
I told this muthafucker, yo this is the end of the road for you
And it’s courtesy of me 'cause I ended the road for you
I killed everybody, even ended who wrote for you
But even If I lose I’m winnin’, even his iffy niggas known it
But I ain’t losin' tonight, you wanna promote this fight?
You better hope it’s a twitter where you goin’

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You gone pop lock then pop Roc? Y’all know he fakin’
If this was a dance battle then you would 3-0 me, no debatin’
Once I hit you with this 1–2, step before ya soul gets taken
They’ll find his body out in Harlem with his shoulders shakin’
For salary I cause tragedies and leave casualties
Doc on top of you like he tryna jump a battery
Battle me, shots for everybody in ya cavalry
I aim at you (achoo) and trigger off my allergies
Him dyin’ ain’t a maybe, nigga I’m for certain
At his door like Wayne Brady when I rob a person
Deal or no deal, show me who’s behind the curtain
I’m tryna murk him or leave him in shock trauma hurtin’
Gun Bar King, my nigga, try and handle that
I dare him cough, he’ll get his mug where the handle at
Coffee, mug, handle… you should scramble Jack
JC will get an AK, see how I scramble JACK?
Now I’m movin’ upon him
One beam on each hammer, I’ll put two of them on him
One thing to do shoulda warned you
Shoot 'til ain’t a shell left over when I bought this aluminum for you
That’s light, I ain’t Chilla Jones but I plan to scheme
Banana clip hangin' out the damn machine
Steel clap that’ll peel back ya tangerine
You gotta tell ya circle “bounce”: trampoline
Pistol whip him when my hammer swing
I use my hammer like a hand, use his head like a tambourine
Tie up his Princess and his Queen
Start a fire after I soak him in kerosene and I don’t care who seen
Watch you disintegrate, get it straight
For every nigga that I eliminate, there’s one that I intimidate
You got no bars, you just imitate and manipulate
You ain’t a criminal, you incriminate
I’m really in the trap, you wanna participate?
Imagine me frontin’ this nigga weight
And he don’t pay In Time
He could lose his mother for bein' a minute late
Meanin' get his clock cleaned like Justin Timberlake
When I heard Smack and Surf was bettin' on this I was hot then
They started this so I'ma show how the plot end
Surf got two racks on you nigga, you better not win
If I feel like y’all robbed me then nigga I'ma rob him
Real rap, get jacked, that’s what a nigga 'bout
Surf been duckin’ me for years, how y’all give him clout?
Here’s somethin' I’m tryna figure out
How you bettin' two racks while sleepin’ on another nigga couch?
Fuck me? Fuck you two, I get at him
For this dickhead I keep a Magnum, but this shit platinum
I’m the tooth fairy but he ain't know if I’m a good one or a bad one
'Cause I'ma place this nickel under his pillow and then I clap him
That’s light, Gun Bar King, I catch this nigga here alone
I’m robbin’ him, my Basic Instinct like Sharon Stone
Face shots when I air the chrome
Forensics lookin' like jewelers
They gotta identify him by his hair and bone
You gone beat me? Still niggas lyin’
Tell him like I tell the others, I don’t feel niggas rhymes
Who he foolin' with these steel grippin’ lines?
You fuckin’ with me? You get smacked, we on Real Nigga Time

[Round 3: JC]
So uh, Smack gave me one of the half fags from Team Ass Grab
To be 100% honest, them Yak niggas don’t get enough respect
Y’all remember that State Farm line I hit O-Red with?
That proves I’m a fuckin’ threat
But this time I reach for the hip
Am I airin' (Aaron)? Roger, nigga this count is a double check
Last time I saw you I told you you could die
You coulda got off'd for a small offer
My niggas find him he stretched, I’ll ride to the death: Paul Walker
Somethin' y’all need to notice about these niggas
The higher they get, the worst they get, on every tier
Try to step in here, the straps we keep in here are like D implants
They firin’ everywhere
Where the fuck you gonna go?
You in a place you can’t get out bitch
With them little bars you can’t get loud with
Plus ya lame ass crew of hoes got Payless shoe soles
They give out quick
Don’t let these niggas gas you Roc, trust me
Don’t let these niggas play you
I mean the fat nigga do more gassin’ than Poppa Klump at the dinner table
But that’s cool, that’s ya boy, he gets shakes then
He’s ya best friend, he a yes man
But he gassin’ shit that don’t even make sense
You know what that is? That’s that fake shit
Lettin' you leave the house with them bars is a shame, dead true
But now it makes sense why you runnin’ the circle
It’s like you ate at a Gushers commercial: you the head fruit
And that fat nigga you be with, yeah you
You gone catch the head of yo man
Or I could switch the clips and leave him dead in yo hands
Either way it’s a still (steel) body: Bicentennial Man
Or I can pay for the hit
And have the first nigga ride by send 10 to yo man
You been gettin’ by way too long with that loud sound
And that’s how every round sound
But them heaters on me and them round sounds
Gone be comin' from everywhere: surround sound
You been gettin’ outbarred and outlined
Your squad got an image I would call for a witness
But you been in my soon-to-go shit list
So next time I get close to this nigga
My fist might be an emotional nigga: get all in his fillings (feelings)
Now niggas hit me with the shit that they feel is real
Well try facts brother
I’m not a Vice Lord, my brothers are
So I eat with 12 like the Last Supper
But you should be a bus driver
'Cause you not a shooter, but my shooters aim, bust drivers
Get out of line, I'ma fuck you up
One fast upper…and cut: that’s that bus driver
You tapped out? Well I’m with that, see I got big straps
That will get his six-pack packed in six packs and gift wrapped
Merry Christmas, this a scary business, but we mismatch
So that nigga y’all think is off the leash
I'ma break him off a piece: Kit Kat
Y’all think he nice? You wrong
You coulda did more if ya life was wrong, but tonight you gone
He don’t mean that shit
But ya’ll believe that shit so his pride is strong
But I go through his shit right to bone
When Cavemen get caved in, they feel right at home
We got robbed, then got Roc, it’s a fast life
They tried to save him, ask Christ, it’s gone be a fast night
Now listen, it’s gates up there, and the only way to get a spot when they open is to follow yo slogan, “That’s light!”
Get the fuck off my stage, nigga this my shit!