Urltv Cortez Vs Hitman Holla Lyrics

[Round 1: Hitman Holla]
It's kinda hard to spit water, but my verses fluid
I'm a beat Cortez but I'm mad, causeI ain't the first to do it
Had my own lane goin, why the fuck would you merge into it?
You got some wins, but we only remember them loses, Hitman Vs Ewing Patrick that is, what's a 50 cal to a slingshot? My whole team pop
You fly as bird 'til we shoot you down like the restaurant
Ain't no telling where his Wings Stop
New York cats like "That country nigga mean, Ock!"
Between blocks, catch me where the thieves is at I needs a stack, I'll leave him flat, squeeze the Mac
Fight you your team, and whoever in the crowd that want it I
'm like Stephen Jack He searching for a lifeline, too bad I ain't that Regis cat
New York wanna shut me down, y'all need more than that Revis cat
So don't start, cause for the dead prez, I'll spark and leave this man dead
You just a Mexican that rep New York
But lose when it matter the most, you Mark...Sanchez
That bitch you never wit, you stressing on that female
Login on to her twitter page, checking all her emails
Calling Math Hoffa like "Let me give you the details. She fuck wit Holla now, you know from the S-T-L
He rap and I rap but the difference is, he sell
She chose him over me and told me to Be Well"
Fuckin Female! Caught him outside, I told him "Bitch nigga Man up!"
He was like "Man..." I said, "Man what?!"
He was like "Nah Holla I'm just saying" "You saying what?"
Remind you of moms coming from the grocery store
The way we put them cans up I'm all for the static game, it's a mathematic game
Grab the flame, I slide up on him like baggage claim
Fuck if you let us (lettuce) I'm staring at them carrot, aiming at his onion
Won't stop til his cabbage hang Tricks/Trix are for kids and this nigga playing rabbit games
But it's not fun, on my son Bugs Bunny couldn't dodge the shit that's comingout this shotgun
I'm a packed house room rocker, you a McDonalds broom mopper GET THE DOOR!
You a room watcher I know you Brooklyn niggas hurt right now but you gone stand right hurr and watch me chew him
Hoffa I fuck wit niggas on they last strike, you fuck wit mad dikes
Get outta line once, get blast twice
Go head swing, it'll be a fast fight
Cause I'm a duck and 1-2-3 him, I'm Trinidad nice
Ain't ma fault, I'm a fuckin savage and I'm cut from another fabric
Once again this is not a classic, he 2 steps under good 26.6 is the only time you here a nigga say Hitman average
Ball Game!


[Round 1: Cortez]
Shout out to E. Rilla, that's my nigga!
He just came off from a minor bid
He was sitting in that cell listening to BIG
And can't believe that he ain't write his shit I sent a kite, I'll battle Hitman Holla
He said cuzzo that name sound like he quite the bitch
Fuck it, you'll be left for dead for even thinking you have a right to live
That's that real shit, you a gateway drug, I need that real piff
You a stepping stone caiie if I smoke him I'll get higher
But you just a middle man, Smack introduce me to big buyers
Like Rex or Mook cause if I battled them I swear I'd be coming off
But Smack gave me him, FUCK! DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG?!?!
I mean Smack you my nigga, I get the nine I'll clap ya
But let's revert back to my roots cause I'm a Grind Time rapper
I be rhyming all silly bro, mhmm, I be rhyming all my syllables
Uhuh, but I'm versatile with verses, I'm not X-Factor
I learned the ropes I will never choke to a rapping lizard with Urkel's nose
Smack, pop shots, work the 4, everybody claps
The show's done, curtain closed! Grind Time!
You wear lipstick with a perfect pose
Fist on his hip where he likes to switch when he works the poles
Move forward, huge shows and the worst is close
Watching YouTube, two dudes and you jerk 'em both
Smack! Nigga you ain't ever squirt the chrome pussy
You wouldn't press pounds on a working phone
This nigga's washed up, throw him in a nursing home
Stroller or a wheelchair, drooling on a nurses clothes
I just turned URL into a Grind Time circus show
Shout out to Grind Time! In a minute that did enough for me
Y'all gave me 3 minutes, how the fuck you gon fuck with me?
Your broad give brain but every day she look dumb to me
You thinking that we even, I'm show you I'm one up, see
His broad's a jump, legs swinging off the chandelier
He got in Ohio, and she was fucking every Cavalier
Yeah... who is this nigga? I was searching for days and met the nigga that did Aye Verb's waves
And he gave me the scoop on this nigga
Introduced me to niggas, used to hoop with this nigga Jarod Fulton, I know who went to school with this nigga
And Tony Yayo won't want nothing to do with this nigga
Once I Fat Joe, Cam'Ron, and start Ja Ruling this nigga
Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, I ain't through with this nigga
Bitch, you did a track with Murphy Lee, you ain't cool with the nigga
He charged you for that verse bitch, who would've figured
Every time I YouTube and I Googled this nigga
All see is footage of Yung III doing this nigga


[Round 2: Hitman Holla]
They call Hitman when they want a nigga dead, just some shit Holla do
You got a lot of fuckin loses, I guess losing don't bother you
I know he mad, the whole east coast know I'm bad, y'all saw the footage
I'm like a stripper, I came here to show my ass
Pause I ain't worried bout that flow he has I ain't worried 'bout that dough he has Cortez a candy rapper (wrapper) we all know he trash
I ain't even wanna battle, I had plans to show his ass
That I'll smoke his ass
Shake hands with Con, Shake hands with Da Don, get to him, choke his ass
Dandelion style, dig him, plant him, grow his ass
That X must be a Factor better run Miles, I'll Calicoe his ass
Catch him at a show, pull up on some Honda shit
Bombs and shit, 9s and flips, with two Llama clips
Hop on stage while he performing on some Lil Mama shit
You ain't know I was this sick?
You Mexican dip shit
Get your pelvis broke trying to come at me on some hip shit
This matchup was silly, I'm spazzing on his nerdy ass
You never saw a murda, never did a murder, why he repping Murda Ave?
Leave him at a fountain, at a park, take a birdie bath
And I heard he ass, Question: Who believe in all this crime shit?
Food for thought, we don't feed into that non sense
They call me Hitman, read between the fine prints
This weapon not on safety, it ain't John Lynch
Night vision came with a scope, see behind tents Michael Jackson
Motown Glove, you can't find prints (Prince)
When they say the best they say Holla, Sign Stitched
I won't lose, you wouldn't beat me with a time glitch
My rhymes sick, you ain't achieving that
You don't see Gorilla and Bamboo where the Cheetahs at
You don't see the Tigers and Lions out where the Zebras at
You just see Gazelles by the Deers, leave it that
Or leave it rap, for he fuck around and won't leave attached
Head there, neck there, shoulders there, knees back
After this battle, who's checking for where he's at?
Soon as I landed New York City was yelling "He's back!"
I'm at the veteran's home, you know your great granny Mable
I caught her in the kitchen, give a fuck if she disabled
You da thought she was a tip the way I left her on the table
Nurse came in, I'm like "Why you tryna save her?
She 96 and a half, I'm doing the favor"
Keeping her alive, y'all spending too much paper
Let me finish her and y'all can thank me later
Holla you want, Holla you got, your wish was granted, I'm the best damnit
Fuck planet to planet, you wouldn't win this battle in Spanish
Portalito De Ball, translation:
BALL GAME!


[Round 2: Cortez]
It's gon be a long day, you played the wrong game, today
You screaming out "Ball Game!" well bitch, I'm the rain delay
And since you ball I gotta bar that'll make your day
Watch this Mysonne, when I SHOOT! You'll fade away
Matter fact it's not Hoops when you breakaway
Let's go behind your back, tell your coach change your play
I knew he would inquire about my losses, but Holla you don't know me
To be great you must grow, see I'm similar to Kobe
He only averaged 7 his first season, we all saw the potential
He wasn't quite there yet, but we saw something special
So like Kobe I studied the game tapes, now I'm the man to beat
You disagree? I treat you like Shaq and put this man in Heat
But come to think of it, you're nothing like Shaq to me
More like Pat to me, yeah you're in the game
But you're standing on Patrick's knees BANG! BANG!
Let's see if you can stand defeat/the feet
Curse out the god, these niggas will blast for me (Blasphemy)
And hit everything from your stomach and your back behind it
I'll leave you crooked with a bullet in your back alignment
You lose your mind? I bet you this Mac will find it
Clear out thoughts and leave Hitman absent minded
So once I align with them lasers, this bitch will get the singing
Usher ain't the only nigga signing them papers
Yeah, I'ma have to (?) with the cook up
Master P with the hook up
Catholic Priest was screaming out "blasphemy!" when he look up
They'll be laughing but this ass whooping is actually for the lookers
You ain't, half of me, you after me, you the wackest we even hooked up
And you bitchin to who? I mean Dolarz left you broke, I bet you couldn't get Rich in the Lou'
So once I get to bitch smacking (?)
Y'all will get a whole clip early, matinee Dagger to his scalp, peel back half his brain
Iverson with this bomb, ain't no chance I'll pass away
I got this anger in the pit of my chest
And since the Midwest sleeping I'ma put it to rest Lux beat Miles, Hollow destroyed Big T
I'll man handle Holla, Verb's about to be mince meat
So what the fuck is a Midwest movement When New York's done trampled through the Midwest union?
Motherfuck a Calicoe, we keep big Mac's shooting
Click clack, the kick back give my wrist bad bruises
BANG! BANG! BANG! All up in your spinal cord
Run up on him hooded, throw a bullet in that smile of yours
If you pass these two semi's I'll embrace it with this final four
Caught him like the net, now you're dead, it's your final loss
HK get to tumbling, HK aim straight, tops get to hovering CSI, black bags, box get the covering
Nah, that's not enough for him
Sneak in the morgue, drag him out the freezer
Ice pick his belly til I'm stabbing every feature
Stick a time bomb by his bladder where his spleen his
Then I (wig?) the back up (?) scooper
Detonate the bomb on site at your funeral!

[Round 3: Hitman Holla]
Cortez rep Myrtle Ave, but they call it Murda Ave
First thing you think of when you hear Murda Ave
Is dirty grass, 30 mags, shotty pumps, body slumps, shade and crumbs
Niggas walking round with hanging guns but my up north connect told me Murda Ave
Ain't seen a actual murder since 81' and you ain't even from there
You from a hood called Utica
Wherever the hell that is, but it sounds real beautiful
Fucking moron, chill for they find you where the shore rise
Cause where I'm from
You couldn't walk they streets of my city during a tour guide
I got an infection flow, I'm the next to blow
You never stood a chance my nigga, your whole section know It's time for a change and Holla got an election flow
You ain't a New York Giant but acting stupid like Plaxico
Talking birdies (Burress) til I wave the eagle and leave a Hole-in-One
And forensics will really find Cortez in the Golf/Gulf of Mexico
I'm in his hood carting em down, I ride on Texas slow
Like, "What up Pa! Nice necklace yo!" You rap like you tryna get info outta me, you got a detective flow
Me, I keep the metal and chrome
Better warn your fam cause I'll pop up at your relative home I'm at his granny house like Knock-Knock
She look out like "Oh no nigga, I know who you is Cortez don't live her and I don't watch none of his kids"
Fa sho, I go down the block to his auntie house like Knock-Knock!
She say, "Who is it?" I say "Hitman!" She look out, start waving, crack the door, I BLOAW!
Made my way in, she said "Ah Holla don't cut me!"
Ain't nobody finna slice you, bitch we brought them K's in
Where's Cortez? I stared her in the face then
Picked up the K then, grabbed her by her braids then
Made the hoe tell (Hotel) like she work at the Days Inn
Then I heard a "WAHN!" Her son was in the playpen, I was like "for real?"
Shit was so amazing, having flashbacks it put me in a rage when
Picked him up upside down by his J's then
Took him out back, I thought about his age when I tossed him in the kennel with a pit, left him caged in
Let the dog rip thru his tissue, paper mache then
Then I put the....you know what, enough with all this cold shit
Cause on the real, you ain't worth none of your old shit
They took me to Brooklyn and you don't control shit
You freezing cold, I'm hotter than what your stove get
When he rap, you see clear skies, great courage, great marriage
When I rap, you hear 40 cals, 45's, shotty blasts
I would say ball game, but I'ma end this another way
Just so the niggas that's watching ain't gotta ask
What was the outcome of this battle? Body Bag!
Ball Game!

[Round 3: Cortez]
He came with Spanish jokes, but if y'all don't know That old gangsta shit's inspired by Tony and Monolo You see I promised Murda Mook I would murder you First 2 rounds I switched it up, you know, showed that I'm versatile Spit a little bars, showed y'all that I'm lyrical and worth it too But this time, round 3, let's get personal I saw you at Fight Klub, we all seen him took an L You got fed a remedy (RemyD) for thinking you was sick as hell But your bars, they weren't sick as hell, you was looking sick as hell He had his shirt off with his big beads Ribs touching you're a pimp squeak Don't that make sense?
Cause he never looked good with a Big T
But fuck that nigga cause after this cock back and get the ratchet
When I'm done with him, Smack, get his contact, I'll get him after
Drop back, get him smacked Then drive pass sit in (?) spit it backwards
Then I get a long bat to get him batted When I'm done y'all gon think a car crash hit him after
Or a bomb shriveled his ass up or that Tarzan picked him back up
Swung him off a long bridge to the wrong path
Where a strong Ram ripped his back up UGLY!
What labels wanna market your face? Making a million moves but getting no whurr
Your carrur is Target in place I mean what is he?
A mixed breed of Chris Reeves if he turned black
With a twist weave and a turnt cap
Yelling Big B's, Big B's, oh it's them Bloods you repping
You Manny Pacquio, nigga your blood's in question
Since you the Hitman, bitch I got one suggestion BANG!
When I shoot ya soul going in one direction
I roll with real su woops nigga, we be goons
He ain't homie, but tonight it's like we see (C) food
So if I get the banger, cock the 9 back, pop his spine
How you gon stop this 5, chill, chill, stop it 5 I'll kill him!
Dead him with a toe tag
And I'm real disrespectful, I'll smack you with your own flag
I bet he cease up once I buck two rounds
Let's switch sets on him, bitch what you wanna do now?
Cause the nigga's that I know that throw up them sets died for they colors
You pussy! My nigga you wouldn't die for your mother!
You wouldn't rob for your brother, if you do, get the fifth right now
Them niggas kilt your cousin, you sit right down, we just look at him
YOU ACTING LIKE A BITCH RIGHT NOW!