[Round 1: Chef Trez]
I say, you sense that, Loso? The Devil beside ya
It's a cold feelin’
And that lil' chill you just got is the sins in your soul spillin'
See I don’t care about imaginary gun bars, they give me a dope feelin'
Plus, if you familiar with religion, you know Christians did the most killin'
You can't help me or talk to me, you just gon' be shook how I reply
Stick ya hand out and you'll lose it, as well as ya life: I'm Denzel in The Book Of Eli
Scotty was your Training Day, He Got Game, but look, bitch, it's my fuckin’ turf
Get sent to Heaven on your Savior’s bus, and really see what Jesus' shuttle’s worth (Shuttlesworth)
I'm highly pissed, miss me with all that godly shit
For the fans with the pay-per-view, they chose to buy this shit
Y'all watchin' me put a 30 on cam’: this that Tekashi hit
We in Florida, I beat yo' ass in yo' state
The fist hurt his face, then I use the legs
But we in Orlando, so if this knee land (Disneyland), we in the perfect place
Nah, I got the urge to pray
I let off a round with a .38
Universal Studios globe, the'll revolve(r) 'round you
Let's talk, I battled DNA, Nitty, Chess, I face real tiers
Even Ryda, Mike P, Prep, some fire mid tiers
So I'm not worried about facin' you and your savior
I don't feel fear
Plus, I already stood in front of JC once...and I'm still here!
Aye, without me, you wouldn't be here tonight, bitch
I brung Shine to that league that birthed and gave you life, bitch
But when I dipped, you got hype quick and gave all praise to Christ, shit
Nigga I'ma ya god, I left you the Pen to write wit'
Who's child is this? Oh, John John's?
Well, I'mma do you foul, lil' bitch
Y'all wanna see me debate a Bull (debatable)?
Well, I'd rather draw on some wilder shit
[?] bitch, ain't no action in ya type
You was watchin' Passion Of The Christ
I was in fights, havin' to put passion in a right
You was suckin' John dick and let that nigga start actin' gettin' hype
'Cause these Hollows body shit: won't be no classic here tonight!
Aye look up, better hope that man controllin' your faith
They wanna know if I'm gonna break the Al Capone curse
I was cursed before the shirt went over my shoulders today
Evil as fuck, mid-rappin' we can go to the fade
You ain't peep the latest sponsor?
Nigga, Smack condone bringin' smoke to the stage
Nigga, I'll cock the shit, won't even pop the shit
He gets hit wit' the heat, rock his shit
Pistol-whippin' his teeth, won't stop the shit 'til the mission complete
Just a ratchet, goin' back and forth with Loso: Emily B
Aye, the trap like Christianity for real, think harder
You come across people gettin' stoned, and that PCP got fiends walkin' on water
We got good [?], hella white like your religion, see it's very true
Ain't too much difference, hell we even got Mary too
But this situation like baseball, oh that ain't register to no one?
Well I was locked up so off the bat I miss Strike but now that I'm home: run
This the major league and you can't take this Chef place
I'm not pitchin' you B.S., but all it take is 3 Of Them Thangs and you won't make it to your next plate
This nigga got a lot of faith, it's just somethin' I can tell 'bout him
Askin' if he knew where he was goin' when he died, Smack
He said, "Heaven"
Baow! yeah cause I shot the Hell out him
Ya niggas, I 12-round 'em
Then the lead is sparkin'
A switchblade, now y'all can go from Four to the Headless Horsemen
Now stick wit' me, he might use a 3 Of Them Thangs bar and talk about the Holy Trinity
But I don't got a father, son or a holy spirit so it don't mean shit to me
You ain't slick
Who said that Chef won't kill him?
See he fool y'all convincin' like he's righteous like that's gon' get it
But you fake preach, get what you want, then leave, that's why the Chef don't feel him
Once he get the check, this Christian jet, I see the Creflo winnin'
I say, you sense that, Loso? The Devil beside ya
It's a cold feelin’
And that lil' chill you just got is the sins in your soul spillin'
See I don’t care about imaginary gun bars, they give me a dope feelin'
Plus, if you familiar with religion, you know Christians did the most killin'
You can't help me or talk to me, you just gon' be shook how I reply
Stick ya hand out and you'll lose it, as well as ya life: I'm Denzel in The Book Of Eli
Scotty was your Training Day, He Got Game, but look, bitch, it's my fuckin’ turf
Get sent to Heaven on your Savior’s bus, and really see what Jesus' shuttle’s worth (Shuttlesworth)
I'm highly pissed, miss me with all that godly shit
For the fans with the pay-per-view, they chose to buy this shit
Y'all watchin' me put a 30 on cam’: this that Tekashi hit
We in Florida, I beat yo' ass in yo' state
The fist hurt his face, then I use the legs
But we in Orlando, so if this knee land (Disneyland), we in the perfect place
Nah, I got the urge to pray
I let off a round with a .38
Universal Studios globe, the'll revolve(r) 'round you
Let's talk, I battled DNA, Nitty, Chess, I face real tiers
Even Ryda, Mike P, Prep, some fire mid tiers
So I'm not worried about facin' you and your savior
I don't feel fear
Plus, I already stood in front of JC once...and I'm still here!
Aye, without me, you wouldn't be here tonight, bitch
I brung Shine to that league that birthed and gave you life, bitch
But when I dipped, you got hype quick and gave all praise to Christ, shit
Nigga I'ma ya god, I left you the Pen to write wit'
Who's child is this? Oh, John John's?
Well, I'mma do you foul, lil' bitch
Y'all wanna see me debate a Bull (debatable)?
Well, I'd rather draw on some wilder shit
[?] bitch, ain't no action in ya type
You was watchin' Passion Of The Christ
I was in fights, havin' to put passion in a right
You was suckin' John dick and let that nigga start actin' gettin' hype
'Cause these Hollows body shit: won't be no classic here tonight!
Aye look up, better hope that man controllin' your faith
They wanna know if I'm gonna break the Al Capone curse
I was cursed before the shirt went over my shoulders today
Evil as fuck, mid-rappin' we can go to the fade
You ain't peep the latest sponsor?
Nigga, Smack condone bringin' smoke to the stage
Nigga, I'll cock the shit, won't even pop the shit
He gets hit wit' the heat, rock his shit
Pistol-whippin' his teeth, won't stop the shit 'til the mission complete
Just a ratchet, goin' back and forth with Loso: Emily B
Aye, the trap like Christianity for real, think harder
You come across people gettin' stoned, and that PCP got fiends walkin' on water
We got good [?], hella white like your religion, see it's very true
Ain't too much difference, hell we even got Mary too
But this situation like baseball, oh that ain't register to no one?
Well I was locked up so off the bat I miss Strike but now that I'm home: run
This the major league and you can't take this Chef place
I'm not pitchin' you B.S., but all it take is 3 Of Them Thangs and you won't make it to your next plate
This nigga got a lot of faith, it's just somethin' I can tell 'bout him
Askin' if he knew where he was goin' when he died, Smack
He said, "Heaven"
Baow! yeah cause I shot the Hell out him
Ya niggas, I 12-round 'em
Then the lead is sparkin'
A switchblade, now y'all can go from Four to the Headless Horsemen
Now stick wit' me, he might use a 3 Of Them Thangs bar and talk about the Holy Trinity
But I don't got a father, son or a holy spirit so it don't mean shit to me
You ain't slick
Who said that Chef won't kill him?
See he fool y'all convincin' like he's righteous like that's gon' get it
But you fake preach, get what you want, then leave, that's why the Chef don't feel him
Once he get the check, this Christian jet, I see the Creflo winnin'
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