Tsu Surf vs. Geechi Gotti URLtv (Ft. Geechi Gotti & Tsu Surf)

[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]

{Geechi snatches the coin out of the air}

Nigga you'se a bitch!
Aye, y'all know who got the fire rounds
Y'all came to see me light the pound

{Geechi takes his Champion Of The Year belt off his shoulder and lays it on the floor}

And lay a Title down!
Every. Fucking. Bar
I don't give a fuck
They said, "Surf in his bag." I know, I'm the one who zipped it up
The pistol tucked, the strap got a bedtime
Caught him while he readin' the paper, blew his face, on the front page, now that's a headline (head line)
My nigga Threala, he facin' Fed time, I hope he come outta that
Last year, Rum killed you
Now they got another Quarter to wash you: oh, this a laundromat
A lot of straps, you poke your chest out, I'ma knock it back
Niggas witchu, I'ma do the same shit to them pussies; copy cat/pocket tap
Roc get slapped, then I lay the Wave down like a stocking cap
You Roger that? Keep talkin' the heat sparkin', I'll knock you down...then I step on the Wave: I'm C (sea) walkin'
Crip shit! Ain't no fuckin' wit' the gang
A headshot will get rid of the Wave like I cut against the grain
I'll dump it in his brain, he get a flat line, that's on the gang bitch
Ya mama keep askin' me, "What the casket size?"
I told her, "Wave length" (wavelength)
Yeah, that's something you can fit right in
Since you from 60's, it's only right that the box be 6 X 10
I catch you in that brand new Benz, leave shells in the ride
Nigga I'll let it ring on a foreign like a mail order bride
You see the Hell in my eyes?
I'm ahead of my time
I'll give a nigga top five, let the doctor's figure out if it's dead or alive
Stop tellin' them lies
You think cause you hang wit' Joe that you famous, nigga?
The five shots damn near killed you like some dangerous liquor
Them niggas got tired of seein' you wit' Buddens (buttons) so they gave you a zipper
Befo' the shot: Surf a G
After the shot: Surgery
He a straight pretender
Befo' the shot: Madison Square
After the shot: Staple Center
I really hate this nigga, actin' like you the reason I'm on this N.O.M.E. stage
Boy a bullet, will make sure you die befo' old age
Chrome thang
It look Silver, Surf'll (Surfer) swim in his own blood, that's how you ride ya own wave
Fo's blaze, stomach shot, I bet he hurl
Face shot, Surf trippin', I turned the Wave to a jheri curl
Machete twirl, I carve an L in ya shit
Switch blades open Titles; bitch I'm sellin' the whip
I'm real wit' this shit
In my city, I'm one of the ones the police hate
You went to jail, so what? The box I put a nigga in don't come wit' release dates
But see I can't be fake though
Because against Hitman, you had some of the best lines
Nigga you said ya mama was in pain, "You want to speak to the inmate?
(Press 9!)
We all know the feelin', ya mom's had to press 9 for her son
But that just prepared her for when you got shot, then she had to press 9-1-1
I ain't gotta find my gun
It's a Smith & Glock
Shoot 'til the clip has dropped
Hit ya brother, got Tay bouncin' off the Wave like I'm skippin' Roc(k)s
Pistol cocked, cause I know Hell waitin'
Surf, I spark in a lot, I'm tailgating
Tell Satan, "Fuck him"
Since you his grandson, without this damn drum
I swear this chopper be lighter than my handgun
But if ya man run, I'ma hit him in the ribs, knock a SLAB off
Look how it's hangin' him
Bullets came out, Slow Loud And Bangin'
Aye, tell that nigga Aye Verb I said "Fuck him"
This a motherfuckin' Crip world
If I holler "Kill Cuz", them two words will get son bodied; Big Gerald
Yo Surf, I liked ya album nigga, when the next one comin' out?
But what if I showed up wit' .725's, choppers and them thumpers out
Boy it's gonna be a lot of ambulances 'At ya Mother House'
Dump him out, yo' gang bangin' ain't like mine
Nigga please, you my Junior MAFIA wit' them little C's (Lil' Cease)
And when it's real, y'all can tell
(You can see it in they eyes)
Yeah, you can make nigga believe them lies