URLtv, Hitman Holla, Tsu Surf - Tsu Surf vs. Hitman Holla lyrics

First thing I hear when I
Touch down is "Surf, the Midwest groovin'
Such and such nice
What’s his name doin' his numbers
And I don’t see the Midwest losin'"
Well, I could think of a few verbs
For the niggas that think they ill
I come through the Midwest cruisin'
X all factors, hit all men tryna holla
Ayy, Hitman, let me holla at you
I brought enough for you and ShowwOutt
And anybody that show out
Already got my other half
I’ll clear this fuckin' show out
'Bout to get this nigga dressed
No he ain’t about to go out
I need that old Hitman
Tank top with the rope out yett Yett
What? This 60's shit is somethin'
You don’t know 'bout
You said you wanted to ride… well
Gerald let’s roll out
Me and my strap got two different visions
But I see hands so clear
Mines goin' out blazin', clips droppin'
No fear
Look like a car crash, he get the bag, no air
That tre see morgue and he
Don’t wanna go there
They say Tsu Surf cold but all
He talk about is hoopin’
‘Cause, I feel like I’m shootin'
When I squirt pounds
And as long as them cans is close
His wig in by the first round
If it’s hard, but not real
I don’t care about ya bar
He get two to the chest I slid
Up on duke and drew with finesse
My big homie told me how them
Streets play out is wild
That mean if this mark is smart
He’ll stay out the crowd
How you average 266, moonwalk on skates
AND clap heat? You are not a shooter
Feet, hand, sticks: Amadou ya
That’s how I’ma do you
Raised in that croc pool
Send some piranhas to ya
Lift the Hitman up to God
Can I get a "Hallelujah"?
I’m always reachin' ‘cause a paranoia
Trip's way better than nervous
Chilled against Charlie but still here
I think I handled that
Clip better than Curtis
So Hitman will front, and ShowwOutt is back?
Boy, I make Hitman front show out his back
Fuck Cable, this could happen on demand
It’s go time
Was on the net flickin' through your music
Got bored in no time
How much you weighin', brother?
It don’t really matter when it’s yo' time
I send him MAC's, he pay per round – Verb
It’s showtime
And every single nigga you see me with
I clap for him
Gotta give him six, man, can he?
Better pray Antoine come back for ‘em
They say Surf reach a lot
Maybe 'cause Surf reach a lot
This new Cal I’m buyin' stupid, period
I’ll teach a block
Columbine, period, teacher, block
This gun talk 101, I can teach a block
I don’t know about you
But I ain’t tryna get shot for shit
It became so normal
I reach when I ain’t got the shit
I ain’t a Proving Ground nigga
This ain't proven ground, nigga
Been gettin' a million views
What you provin' now, nigga?
Jersey!

Besides the fact you got killed
In your last war
You said you want that Hitman
With that rope chain and
That tank top? Be careful what you ask for
Fuck you and any nigga that co-sign him!
Man, I’ll hold your daughter over the boat
Like, "Surf your daddy?"
("yeah?") "Well, go find him!"
It’s a wrap now, two big 40's and a MAC round
The Shotgun I brought do way
More than a pat down
You crippin'? I roll with B's
You talkin' all that basketball shit
'Til I Eurostep with the switchblade
And X him over C's
Me lose tonight? No fuckin' way
Smack, do not call time
‘cause I got a lot of
Shit I gotta fuckin' say
Example: I made my own name, my nigga
I was in top form i came to the stage
The people they got they popcorn
They call you Tsu Surf ‘cause
You waited on a Loaded
Lux co-sign wave and hopped on
– that’s bitch shit
Ridin' a nigga dick – that's some sissy shit
Well, I’m strapped in your
Neighborhood with two 30's
Let’s see if y’all really
About that 60’s shit
Honestly, fuck who came with you tonight
Y’all all lunch i got a brand new black
MAK-90 with no rubber grip
That’s for the raw bunch
You seen what I did to Ars and
Red? This your way to learn
Man, I done hung up more
Jersey niggas than David Stern
I’m pissed and I’m not in the mood
Don’t talk slick to me i’m gifted
I win off presence: no Christmas tree
I’m way too much
To win you need a glitch from me
I’m Stevie Wonder: subtitles don’t
Mean shit to me y’all praise him for gettin'
Booked for possession? I’m finna say, what
Y’all happy he floss with it?
‘Cause where I’m from we praise the shooters
Not the niggas that get caught with it
Man, I’m undefeated with a weapon
Shit, I’m a boss, nigga
And it’s loaded, fuck Lux!
This Calico ain’t lost, nigga
My boys in the hood
I brought plenty convicts
And death is the answer to any conflict
You brought Suge, I’m like
"Why? That nigga’s a bitch!"
We ain’t seen Shotgun put in
Work since Ricky got hit
Fuck peace, I like the streets
Shots and sirens whole hood got jobs ‘cause
The block is hirin'
Potato on the deadbeat: that mean
The pop is silent me and my niggas’ll walk
Through your neighborhood
Like we tryna stop the violence
Chill ‘fore I flash one, remix that blast
Son "Holla, let me get him!" – nah
You fucked up my last one
I’m thinkin' about shootin' a nigga
Pull that beam out
Shots go right through his chest
Rip his spleen out
The doctors pull his dreams out, his mama
"Fuck that, Holla, I’ll knock him clean out!"
Say it again? Fuck it, I’ma remix it
Chill ‘fore I flash one, remix that blast
Son "Holla let me get him!" – nah
You fucked up my last one
"Holla let me get him!" – nah
You fucked up my last one
I’m thinkin' about shootin' a nigga
Pull that beam out
Shots go right through his chest
Rip his spleen out
Shots shots shots go right through his chest
Rip his spleen out
The doctors pull his dreams out
His mama "Fuck that, Holla fuck that, Holla
Fuck that, Holla, I’ll knock him clean out!"
They ask why always use ShowwOutt as a prop
Be-motherfucking-cause
That nigga ain’t a prop
That’s my motherfuckin' blood
Big Gerald raised us on
That motherfuckin' belt
And said, "Fuck a fair fight
That other brother better help!"
Speakin' of fight
Y’all thought that scuffle was fake
And I hate that
It wasn’t a big deal for real
Y’all made it that
Well, I’m callin' niggas’ bluff, Surf
Let’s have a cage match
Can’t nobody leave 'til a
Nigga dead: stage that
Whole bunch of mics on his
Head: I parade that
Uppercut and swing like an Atlanta Brave cat
Tay Roc
Keep my motherfuckin' name out your mouth
Lil nigga, I’ll expose you
If you need help just say you need help
I’ll mold you
It’s either that or get a casket bed
They’ll close you
His bitch will have to open the box
To see Roc like a proposal
Anybody takin' bets, shit, where the bets
Clowns? I’ma let you in on a hint
This ain’t even my best round
What’s big money to small change?!
Two words after this: BALL GAME!

See, that’s where I can agree with you
That nigga from B-more
Sometimes I wanna clothesline him
Dump him somewhere and let somebody
Nobody knows find him cops and the dog
Y’all wake me up when those find him
Tay get a tombstone
You see 'Roc' on the rock like Hov signed him
Okay, I got caught with a strap, fuck it
I did a bid with it
Thank God they caught him for possession
And they ain’t catch him for
What he did with it
I’m wherever Yett Yett at, strap out
It ain’t in the tuck
You might have a Calico loaded with hollows
So a good six rounds could
Just be beginner’s luck
I came to murder somethin'
I mean you got a few wins, yeah
That could be true
But, I also know ShowwOutt got just
As many wins as you
I can’t be mad at ShowwOutt
But if you take Show out
Nobody that catch the gun will catch you
Somebody tell me what this show 'bout
What you gon' do? Slide up
On me like baggage claim?
Re-remix then clap me up kill?
Wait a minute
Your lil brother took the tab on that Bill
If I could reload with the same
Bullets that I shot with
I’m about to stuff these Mossberg
Shells in this Glock clip
Queen Latifah "Set It Off" mask
Jump in the 380
Cops catch him, fuck it, it was ugly
He could plead crazy
Lock pick the door, "Errrrhhh!" they sleep
Baby see his son, "BAH!" I'll G Baby G baby
What, I need to remix it or somethin'? Nah
I won’t slide Smack a stack to get
It in the building, you ain’t gettin' far
Fuck I gotta put it in subtitles?
You ain’t get the bar?
Nigga, you can’t read, it ain’t in the car
"This brand new Nina
Who gon' take one for the team?"
That was mean, hella body
But this pump like a jump: that
Bitch down to hit everybody
With a ladder long clip
That’s for when we ride though
That’s your lil man? When we
Catch him he dyin', bro
Hit him with a 60 second
Clip to the slide Show
I got double 9's, my mans got double 9's
We’ll shake shit
I’ll let a round off from this semi tuck
That’s a great flip
He let a round off from that semi tuck
Another great flip
Boy, we’ll put two and two
Together like it make sense
When was your last body?
Phara and Shooney? That shit bored me
Only time I’m comin' at two
Bitches is in an orgy
I just cop some new bullets
I call 'em edibles is he a G? No
A Smith in his back will be terrible
My logic is
If I send 100 shots he can’t duck 'em all
Clip of hot peppers: Holla
I’ll pin yo' head to the fuckin' wall
And if I gotta ride or somethin'
All black disguise or somethin'
Timbos, cargos, mask with a 9 or somethin'
You gon' need God
Hidin' tips from Saddam or somethin'
Mike Brown: that boy gon' die for nothin'

You asked when’s the last time I bodied
Phara and Shooney? When the last
Time you bodied a nigga?
That nigga from the SONS? Stop
Y’all need to quit
D boys the only niggas that brag
About gettin' rid of bricks
You had a classic vers’ Shine
But he ain’t really shit
You shined vers’ X, but that was really it
My right hand man will shoot you
Then plead the fifth
But why? When I can give my own
Shot like I ain’t need the pick
My homie said "Who?" I said "All
" I ain’t need to pick
The scope, I went right through the screen
Like I ain’t need the switch
Fresh out of retirement, yeah
They don’t like that
45, bald head, they yelling "Mike back!"
King of performance, yeah
They yelling "Mike back!"
Worldstar TKO’s, they yelling "Mike back!"
Kill one of mine, that’s cool
I’m comin' right back
And kill two of yours and make
You come get a life back
That Internet beef you be on
Will get your wife snatched
That money Smack gave you tonight
Will get your wife back
So what if I’m whoopin' yo' ass, Surf
(Fight back) you be sleepin' on Budden couch
Like that’s your father
Well, what’s all that rappin' for?
What’s all that kidnappin' niggas for bricks
And all that trappin' for?
Man, stop, I’ll clap the 4 kill Surf
He gon' have to bury his
Son: I’ll Jackson Joe
Man, what time your girl get off?
We in that van waitin'
We all in the front yard like we landscapin'
We all in your living room
With the cans blazin'
Boo bop, bop bop bop bop!
Ain’t Red your man? Just tell
Him give you that translation!
I watched Goodz big boy you
What kind of star lets another nigga
Tell him go run a pack?
What, you ain’t have them gadgets blitty?
Well, it’s gon' be perfection how this KOD
If Tsu’s ever in me or Magic's city
Oh, y’all ain’t catch that? This
Jersey girl gettin' zipped up
In other words
I got that metal on stage like a strip club
Random: but Suge so fuckin' terrible
I coulda beat both of y’all, same night
If they was on stage measurin' hearts
Me and Suge would be the same height
Or Tsu Surf’s gon be a
Watery death, broad day, plain sight
His momma gon have to wear a bathing suit
And scuba gear to visit the grave site
If I use this heavy metal
Y’all gon have the crowd Surf
And ‘em in the ambulance
Fuck, y’all waitin' on that
Subtitle or somethin'?
I said if I use this heavy metal
Y’all gon have to crowd surf
Him to the ambulance
Fuck, y’all waitin' to remix
That subtitle or somethin'?
I said if I use this heavy metal
Y’all gon' have to crowd surf him to the
Crowd surf him to the… crowd
Surf him to the ambulance
I’m just tryna get on the same page as you
How Arsonal and Red left you
Booked? Shotgun made you ride
Solo? And these the niggas that’s
On stage with you?!
That wasn’t played well, ‘cause I guarantee
If that was me… Magic
Ill and Verb woulda spent every goddamn night
In Detroit until I made bail
It was four of them
One pistol – you was gon' raise hell?
If it’s four of us it’s four pistols
We woulda all had to sit in that same cell
But now it’s "hee hee haa haa, " man
That’s weak shit
And how ironic that this college nigga
Whippin' this hood nigga on some street shit
I mean, I could talk about how you be reach
I’ma save that for round three
Bitch! BALL GAME!

I hear everything you sayin', but let’s
Discuss somethin' that’s apparent
Hitman Holla, cold killa!
But Gerald Fulton grew up with both parents
Now, I’m not knockin' havin' both parents
But, your situation wasn’t the worst
Like, everything Mommy ain’t have on the 15th
Daddy could cover on the 1st
He probably taught you that 5 step drop back
And that spiral almost amazingly
I taught myself you gotta ease
Off that trigger slow
Let that hammer up simultaneously
He probably taught you about the
Birds and the bees
Chlamydia, clap and all about crabs
Man, them niggas was out the
Window with the bird
Throwin' out B’s, clappin'
Callin' out "Crabs!"
You was at practice shootin'
If you missed you'd do suicides
Them niggas came through shootin'
That was our practice if we missed
That was suicide every time I feel some type
Of way about my hood
These family niggas be remindin' me
See, we both real niggas
But you a different kind to me
Math, English
Lunch – you was on a different time than me
I pull up: gym, I pull out: trigonometry
You had X squared over Y
Tryna find the remainder, then add up
I’m askin' my ex, "Why
You askin' me about numbers?
I’m tryna bag up"
Your father probably bought your mother coat
All your sports gear and your brother boots
No football, these gloves wasn’t for baseball
This face mask was for other use
Your mother was at the
Game, cardboard colors, fresh signs
My mother was in pain
"You wanna speak to the inmate, press 9"
You get off the court, woo! Daddy right there
"Congratulations you did it" – I
Won’t say I’m jealous
But me and Mommy had to wait
To Wednesday to kick it
I know you won’t get it
Shit, I have flashbacks when I spit it
But Wednesday and Thursday
That was assigned visit's
I just feel like Big Gerald
John Witherspoon and you Craig
What you doin' with that Glock?
I mean, back on the West Side
They ain’t have guns, we had these to rock
I admit if I was in his
Position I probably woulda stopped
We got so much in common:
Both protected by them pops
Moral of the story
All that fuckin' school and
You ain’t learn shit
Put him in my hood one time, boy
And you’ll turn bitch
If Verb woulda holla’d for my father
He wouldn’t have heard shit!
If you say you was wrestlin' in the streets
You a Stone Cold Stunner
You was home with your mother
Watchin' wrestling: Rock, Raw, Chyna
Smackdown
We was in the trap house: raw, rock
China gettin' smacked down jersey!

New Jersey was like the Celtics
At one point in time
Y’all had the Big 4: KG, Paul Pierce
Ray Allen and Rondo but y’all all split up
And started fallin' off
It was only a matter of time though
I see y’all lookin' like, "Well, who’s who?"
Ars, he was once MVP, so that’s KG
That’s just right off the hunch
O-Red = Ray Allen
‘Cause he probably the deadliest shooter
Out of the bunch
Won’t y’all help me think of
Somebody for Suge? ‘Cause, i’m tryin'
I mean I could call Shotgun "The Truth
" but I’d be lyin' and Surf, you Rondo
Not ‘cause you be runnin' shit
It’s ‘cause your first name Rajon
Let’s bring that back us, them
It ain’t hard to figure out who the ops
Hitman vs Arsonal
I got rid of that big ticket
Like I knew the cop
After that battle they looked at
St louis and believed us
Hitman vs O-Red: I called him Ray Allen
‘Cause, I sent that nigga to Jesus
Hitman vs Shotgun Suge
I’ma need a serious check
So that just leave Surf
Yet and still he ain’t a serious threat
‘Cause, I’m appalled how
Rajon ain’t been on point
Since his parents left
Everything from AR’s to Glocks in his face
Chinese choppers, they sound different
You could tell they not from the States
"Brackow! Brackow
" shit that’ll make Barack leave the States
My city got me paranoid
So I’m shootin' at any cop on the chase
And if Qua jump in, he get it the same way
I killed his dog
Now me and Calicoe fightin' the same case
We two different Rugrats
‘Cause you a rat and you tell
What you seen for a hobby i’m Angelica
That’s ‘cause I get mean with the Tommy
Y’all remember that Michael
Jackson Motown glove?
Well, I use that to clean up the shotty
And left it on the scene
Cops thought a nigga Billie
Jean’d at the homi "You are in the middle of
That CH-CH: that’s CHURCH"
I mean, before y’all say I’m hatin'
Just explain to me
What 'church' had to do with that situation?
Then you had the nerve to say
"I’m too advance for these niggas
And it hurts"
No, you just reach too fuckin' much
And they let it work
Well, since they let you get away with it
Let me try it, and I’ma do it worse
Check, code name San Fran, that’s forty 9's
And when it burst
You are in the middle of that SF: that’s SURF
I see you over there lookin' like
"That last shit ain’t hit like that?"
But, you woulda screamed and went crazy
When he say shit like that
I got them things like Tambourines
We clap at whoever
I treat your block like a URL
Card and smack it together
They found his body so distorted
He was backwards together
Me and ShowwOutt the male version
Of Serena and Venus
Same parents but we swing ratchets together
I got some shit that’ll flip a nigga
He’ll tumble on the spot
I don’t even drink, but I took some shots
Then I stumbled to his pops
I’m like, "I brought them Nick Cannons
You know? Braataa Braataa, brrrrrr-POP!"
Man, I be feelin' like a Piston in Detroit
When I’m drummin' on the block
You either gon' respect me or respect me
Ain’t no in and out stay in your lane
Don’t cross over like an in-an-out
It’s real where I’m from, you playin'
You took the scrimmage route
It’s all fun 'til you layin'
With your ligaments out
Surf, I’m a beast, peep
I bring extenders out
A star that’ll play with them birds:
I took the Emmitt route
You Crippin' on the net in person
What that image 'bout? Mush him in his face
I’m just tryna see what his niggas 'bout