URLtv, Mike P, Rum Nitty - Rum Nitty vs. Mike P lyrics

I said we got Mike P
Versus Rum Nittybut not really
The plot be thick so fuck you and all your
Dick ridin' fans that will
Vote for you and not even watch the shit
I ain't worried 'bout this battle
Pussy, in a real one I would rock ya shit
You is original, punch pivotal
'Til you Nu Jerzey Twork, Tay Roc
(k) ed ya shit fuck that bitch
You busta move, steal his style
You went from a one-dimensional square
To a Rubix Cube
Tit for tat wit' me? That's a foolish move
You got one round, shoot wisely
Don't turn this battle to
Russian Roulette rules
First Tay, now you, I'm killin' one Roc
(k) with two stones
You ranked high with brass material
But on the inside you're fool's gold
A 45, a 45, I doubled up, then blew those
I blacked out, spilled Nitty blood
I made Rum two (too) toned and you? Bro

What happened to ya Cassidy battle?
I heard the stage was set and
Y'all suppose to actually battle
But, you ain't true to this league
Cats talk like URL blocked what?
You got zero loyalty to the brand
You flew to Canada chasin' a hot buck
This pussy opened his legs for King
Of The Dot and got FUCKED 9 tucked
Bullets nitpickin'
(Nit' picking) , they found him worthy
He drove away, I fired shots, entire shots
And tires shot leg? Found in jerseys
At the funeral
Spottin' every woman in ya family I'm
Tryin' to pound some birdies
At the eulogy, ya mother tellin' everyone
"Nitty gritty" well now he's six feet
Down and dirty evil
I would stay on Earth after
A rapture blew a 40
Top red (read) like Parappa The Rapper
You want action? Get baked
There'll be a massacre after
The beast barrin' him in a
Box, I'm an animal, cracker
Fuckin' bull pit targetin' a
Little bitch barkin'
Full clip cartridge on a bullshit artist
This time is mine
You gon' name flip cause you
Can't last rhyme for rhyme
All these death stories, in the bio, not
Only will they read I killed you, i survived
Think P playin'
Sick as me, I let the heat sprayin'
Knuckle up, one punch you buckle up
Ya knees cave in whole team pussy
I could give a shit what he's sayin'
You gon' live with cartoons in
The background like RZA DJ'ing
But, I, differ the skills shit between us
Nah, on some ill shit with beans, a mil' lit
Peel shit, bang for real trip to Jesus
I got head from ya mom's sister her MO? P
(MOP) , that bitch can lick the penis
She allergic to not suckin' my dick
Your auntie hit's the meanest
(antihistamine)
I fake a drug deal with Nitty
16 ounces I lay it down for you
Three for one special, a pound for
You, a pound for you, a pound 4 you
I spark blickers, off get ya, parkin' ya
Rum got me fucked upthere's somethin'
'bout me and dark liquor crazy art
Either the 4-5 split 'em or a 380 spark
You a Hustle? Big bullet right
In the lady parts
They yell, "Stop shootin' Mike!"
But blame Nitty he made me dark
The kid can't stop clickin'
On it 'Baby Shark' nitty!
Keep comin' with that lost mentality
Ya ignorance is leadin' to ya loss in salary
You here
To act like you still a boss and battle me
I'm here
To say none of this shit matters cause I'll
Fuck you up on a real stage time

Is you ready Smack?
We got muthafuckin' Nitty versus Mike Pulice
AKA the Skip Bayless of battle rap
These is facts i mean cause the nigga will
Break down ya whole style, he a fool
Tell you what you don't need and need to do
How you supposed to move as
An artist in order
For you to succeed and really get some views
Like, "Show more personality do
Some vlogs interviews
Give the fans a chance to get at dude"
All this advice you be givin' ain't
Never did shit for you, hater
You like an injured player turned commentator
Cause you got all the answers on
How to get to the chip
But he himself has never made
It so stop the shit
Cause a one-round Skype battle wit'
Me to this date
Is one of ya biggest accomplishments
I get to rockin' wit' the piece
Watch ya mouth or catch a round from
Out the Calicoe what you speak
Keep it down don't make a peep
You'll be sleep this K'll rest one
(KRS-One) if I heard the 'Sound
Of Da Police' (Pulice)
You bitches weak, I am not y'all
They ain't let me in
I snuck in the side door and put
The city on like a cop car you not hard
You got any type security they knocked off
Hold up, let me make this clearer for Mike
(mic) , I pop guards
Top dawg and I'm vet respected
Do not try me, you a nobody
(no body) , The Head Detective
You be dead in seconds
A DOA, public service announcement
I ain't worried 'bout nothin', P'll say (PSA)
He get brave? Let off a can'
Put P under a DE, I made a monogram
My numbers? Would probably go through the
Roof if I pop you fam'
Shoot him and get views off Pulice
(police) , like I took his body cam'
You all get bagged, I dog walk you
You gon' need protective custody
If I'm on you but even if you in PC, P (PCP)
I grab the Sig'
(cig') and bomb (embalm') on you
I warned you, I really live this life
I'll put ya shit on ice
A big stage battle, this in the
(inner) pocket is why you're goin' under
I put a clip on Mike (mic)
Don't get all hype cause this ain't the match
If this was a battle
In real life? I prolly wouldn't say all that
Compact 380 strap
Serial numbers on the baby scratched
Like cradle cap, you won't make it back
Your whole side get did wrong
I don't even use the fitting room when
I be inside the little malls
Cause, I'm not the one to try that shit on
They hit my phone, asked for three minutes
I said, "That's too easy i'm down
This won't be a fair one i feel like
I'm cheatin' you'll be sleep in a round"
(sleepin' around)
To keep it a thou', I'm cold hearted
Don't start him i point blank, smoke targets
Leave the curb red, line up P with one round
That's no parking
Pole's sparkin', a muhfucka gon' die
I'm the truth with this 357
And you know numbers don't lie
Don't try, we 'bout everything
You let it ring? And we
Kick shit off in return
I got a special team this is my era king
I got hard spittin'
Put fear in y'all bitches
Bill Collector choke twice
Then I logged off with him
By the time the battle came out
It was a clean round with new bars
In it and you still lost nigga
Authentic, I'll really clap you
It ain't a joke stretch you
Cause, I ain't finna wrestle
You'll get smoked
You white boys like to grab ahold and choke
But see P, our
(CPR) style, is to grab the nose and blow
My shooter he on go
Tweakin' off the coke grams
One arm grippin' and the 'cane got
Him lifted cause the choke slam
You ain't got no chance they take a loss
Every time they put you on
You the Al Kapone brand
Hold up, this a pole tuck if I get the drop
I stick somethin' on-cameradon't rush