[Round 1: Geechi Gotti]
We got Geechi Gotti versus…
Man, you choked your way outta being the GOAT - sad but true
Can’t nobody be mad but you
I mean, dawg, you was Top 3
Imagine how we feel seein’ one of the best punchers struggle wit’ his speech like Ali
Golly, back then, you was the man, though
Now those punches barely hit Orlando
Magic, every battle you’ve been on bunk shit
Stumblin’ over bars like a drunk bitch
Drum clip, shit spray about 80 rounds
Or the .30, ‘cause I’m better wit’ the sticks than Devon Miles
I can hear ‘em now, fuckin’ wannabes
.40, extension longer than the quarantines
Jordan memes: leave a legend wit’ the sad face
Glock so new, the shit squeak like bad brakes
Keep thinkin’ you safer at home
I ain’t tryna hear that shit
That just mean it’s cool to shoot the crib up - I know everybody in that bitch
I’m a real-ass Crip, I’m just here to bring the streets back
Fuck the fame, they can keep that
The option, though, without rap, I would be back slidin’ like a junkie that relapsed
I keep straps, I’m known for violence
Pistol-whippin’ without a driver’s license
I’m defiant
Boy, I be done slapped you
I been solid, you can see I’m ten toes like Jesus sandal
You gon’ get the team dismantled, you too fake
Annoying like toothaches
Nitty, I don’t think I can fit in or gel (Orajel) wit’ this n***a
Shoot a shell at this n***a, you ain’t shit to me
The URL booked this to verify how yo’ Crippin’ be
Can’t you tell the URL staff just like Moses, the way the staff is here to split the C (sea)?
Man, you can’t get wit’ me
And yo’ last battle proved that you can’t fuck wit’ me or none of the new kids
Every time you battle a n***a, you let your state down when you be losin’
Think about it - which one of us took that Saynt L? Oh, you is
And when it’s real, you can tell
You can see it in they eyes
Go ahead, see if you can make n***as believe them lies
N***a, time
[Round 1: B Magic]
Aight, Geechi Gotti
I come out to Killa Cali to see a homi
Better hope he Saved by the Bell
‘Cause when you hear these tires Screech, I come to see at least a (Lisa) body
N***a, I ride
Stick a fork in your grill, I don’t need a Masi’
MMA knockout shit: somebody (k)need to stop me
Say, Day-Day, my chopper hate n***as: it’s a KK ‘K
When you hear it, it make you wanna smoke somethin’ like a reggae tape
And if I had one wish like Ray J say
Then you gon’ get the handclap like “A Bay Bay”
I’m mean wit’ it
One gun, take a whole team wit’ it
N***a, 100-round Charlie Clips: I could do a whole ‘nother scheme wit’ it
N***as say they sleepin’ on Magic
Well, they gon’ dream wit’ it
CakeLyfe: it’s a wrap for your chest (Chess) when the Steam hit it
Big black fo’
It got some kickback, tho’
I’m 100 below zero - you can’t get that cold
I’m from a city where, by your homies, you can get back dough
You better keep your Camp Lo(w) before you get that Glow
The shit’ll never get that old
Boy, this clip’ll make a six-pack fold
Stomach shot, waist shot, his hip, back broke
Yo, I know you don’t get high, but, n***a, this that smoke
Check me out…
Geechi, I murder (Murda) Ink: I think I’m Irv, Gotti
Think he Supreme and get a .50, how I serve Gotti
That’s the rule
Silencer on it, that’s the tool
Pull over and lay his ‘hood out like back to school
N***a, you gotta rap
Champagne bottle until your noggin cracked
He say you knew he was from Cali how everybody havin’ to dodge a (Dodger) cap
Doctor could do little for his daughter like Kyla Pratt
Shoot these guns, no refunds - ain’t no givin’ his dollar back
Copy that?
Yo’ homie can get it too like a copycat
And a shell on side of his hat like a hockey cap
Stomach shots fold him
Find a way to come bend his body back
And I run in place with somethin’ that burn more than body fat
Body cats
Haters, stop muggin’ - I can see they eyes
They think I’m Tupac, a Outlaw wit’ this steel (Still) I Rise
‘Bout to go to work - fuck it, I got a bigga .9
All cop-killers, it’s Hollows in the Dinininon
Say, Final 4th Quarter, Every Fuckin’ Bar
In the ‘Lou, it’s 100 rounds sittin’ in every fuckin’ car
Retarded, 5300, we big Locs
I’m from a city where you can ask for a fade and get smoked
Time
[Round 2: Geechi Gotti]
Chokes, no-shows, short rounds
So many tricks from this silly rabbit
He shoulda been died, but somehow he still livin’ after that fuck shit
I guess he really Magic...Johnson
A .32 was my first gun
You said your mama couldn’t stand bitches - how come she birthed one?
Ho n***a, my flow iller
Blow triggers
Nina, and I stay wit’ the bitch like broke n***as
Fo’-fif’ers
Headshot, explode a n***a flesh
Hole so big, the first bandage got stretched
Docs have to re-wrap (re-rap) his shit like Rex
N***a, who got next? Don’t matter - you dead
Back shot, bullet right (write) on his disc like a bootleg
It ain’t a movie, though
Copy, clown?
Said he didn’t get it
I’mma shoot ‘til it click in his head: I’ll bet he got it now
Knock him down, when the mag’ spray
Magic cap on his head like Penny on Draft Day
Crippin’ ‘til my last day, grippin’ toolies
Pole, extended fully
Stick up for you like you gettin’ bullied!
You owe me money? You better give it to me
Or it’s 100 shots to the head when I blast the ‘K
I’m just sayin’, gimme the cash, or I’mma make your Apple Pay
Ratchet spray, when I’m clappin’ shit
30-clip - when you on it, it’s a Magic stick
Pass the fif’, let the fo’ blaze
The ratchet hittin’ errybody: it’s goin’ through a ho phase
Chrome thang
Dump it and leave it, ‘til nothin’ is breathin’
Shit, I just found out ski masks was for fuckin’ skiing
I’m a fuckin’ demon, I do shit tragic
I’ll kill you, then battle your mama right in front of the casket
On some “fuck it” shit
Already battled at a gender reveal, funerals was on my bucket list
I be tuckin’ shit
That’s why they say all my battles be debatable
Leave me alone, fam’
The .30s I got in the building? You’ll never see ‘em on cam’
Heaters gon’ blam at yo’ goofy ass
My childhood was like a offense-only practice: all we did was shoot and pass
N***a, my youth was sad, and somehow, I still was on that shit
I had to bang, and rep to the fullest
They wonder how I gave up on sports and still end up catchin’ a bullet
Man, this shit for real
Real talk - I damn near coulda died
I ain’t tryin’ to use it for a angle
Just sayin’, I never was good at baseball, but still damn near was playin’ for the Angels
‘Cause when it’s real, you could tell
You can see it in they eyes
Yo’ turn - see if you can make n***as believe them lies
Time
[Round 2: B Magic]
I say, um...Round 2
Now this the part where I clown dude
Drum hangin’ outta the chopper look like a clown shoe
(*Mm, mm, mm-mm-mm*) - that bitch is soundproof
One-way ticket to a hospital gown suit
Clown dude
Listen up, Geechi, I get a Glock and shit
Heatseeker, Street Sweeper, I get to moppin’ shit
Say he got cash money, but he keep a rod, he rich (Roddy Ricch)
Huh, Compton Crip? I’ll put you down below in The Box he get
Boxing shit, four ring: Idelif
Bigg K: I get to the paperwork on some Ah Di shit
They ain’t even know that was Geechi layin’ there - they had to I.D. Crip
Somethin’ hangin’ outta the chopper look like a hockey stick
Gotti, quit
I got a few in the ‘K
Avocado got the news that I ruined your day
N***a, do you know what a handgun would do to your face?
Make your shit look like it’s pregnant and it’s due any day
It’s Final 4th Quarter, Every Fuckin’ Bar
When we ride around, we got 100 rounds in every fuckin’ car
Retarded, 5300, we big Locs
From a city where you can ask for a fade and get smoked

[Round 3: Geechi Gotti]
N***a, you’se a bitch
Really a whole punk
Man, I’ll be markin’ June out like i’m busy the whole month
Hol’ up, I don’t fuck with snitches, and that shit fo’sho’
If you’se a rat, what you livin’ fo’?
In my ‘hood, you can get killed for what you didn’t know
To kill a opp’, that was the mission goal
I seen n***as cry when, it was time to ride, and they ain’t get to go
You rap it - I live it, bro
I’m just glad to be makin’ it out
Grew up ‘round roaches and rats, Raid in the house
Since 16, I was active - them mu’fuckas been raided my house
N***as know what I’m ‘bout, really a soldier
Seen plenty n***as get killed on the corner
Man, we been avoidin’ coffins (coughin’) way before the Corona
Boy, you a goner
If you believe in God, you better say it wit’ ya chest then
I appreciate His blessings
Shit, I even prayed before those missions: now that was a blessed sin
Knock his chest out, cave his chest in
The steel’ll hit him
You’ll go from talkin’ to God to chillin’ wit’ Him
I ain’t dealin’ wit’ him
Yeah, we both Crips, but your life ain’t like mines
You can run from yo’ past
N***a, I can’t hide mines
I done ended mo’ lives than not followin’ Instagram guidelines
N***a, this my time
Crip street, big heat
All my opps is social distancing: 6 feet
N***a, miss me, with the “Battle rap ain’t just like the streets”
Man, what the fuck is the difference? It’s all opinions
It’s plenty n***as in jail that disagree with the Judge’s decision
Let it dump when I lift it
Turn this shit to a track meet
I fell in love wit’ guns, and the way it feel? Yeah, that power really attracts me
I’m just sayin’, I didn’t have to read a book to know how Great gats be (Gatsby)
N***a, it’s more than words
I murder nerds
The streets taught me a lot: them was learnin’ curbs (curves)
Man, this shit for the birds!
Make sure they know that if I die, that fake love, I didn’t want it
Half these n***as won’t give you five when you alive
But soon as you die, they spend 20 for that shirt with the picture on it
This your moment, don’t get 30’d
My trigger finger itchin’, ‘cause the gun was dirty
Cuh, don’t worry
Half these n***as never seen murders unless it was a movie, and that’s it
Death look different in real life: it’s catfish
Clap shit, put a end to this
Bullets goin’ all in his shit
Man, that n***a plugged up
So nah, he ain’t dead yet, but he on, like 10 percent
Real-ass shit, n***as know my life was hard
If they said it was easy, they lyin’ (Lion), King
We just got used to livin’ with Scars
And when it’s real, you could tell
You can see it in they eyes
It’s yo’ turn - see if you can make n***as believe them lies
N***a, time
Every Fuckin’ Bar, n***a - Mafia

[Round 3: B Magic]
He say, “When it’s real, you can see it in they eyes”
Well, what’s when you think it’s real, and what you seein’ is disguise?
I’ll put him in a casket, and send that shit
I ain’t Geechi - I had to make sure he was in that bitch
.35 in the back, I’m rollin’ me a Frank Thomas
I got bitches everywhere like I’m Frank Lymon
Fucked this n***a baby mama, I’m straight grindin’
Pull out, and fuck his mama wit’ the same condom
Gotta ask, Geechi: who the fuck is you?
Antetokounmpo: what these tres for? To Buck at you
I’m slick talkin’, Crip-walkin’, I throw a crutch at you
I’m off the chain, I’m the pitbull wit’ the muzzle loose
Truzzle-proof
Know that I’m comin’ at you wit’ a black deuce
I’m real in real life - none of my goonies was in the rap group
Smack, from here on (heroin) out, this how it crack, fool
I bet you this should kill (Shaquille) a game: I’m talkin’ Shaq-Fu
Somethin’ comin’ out of the barrel big as a Shaq boot
N***a, just hear me, I’mma be the one to clap you
Long-ass chopper in the car - that bitch slap, too
Silencer on it, sound like I’m walkin’ in a tracksuit
Final 4th Quarter, Every Fuckin’ Bar
Where I’m from, it’s 100 rounds in every fuckin’ car
Ignant, 5300, we big Locs
I’m from a city where you can ask for a fade and get smoked
It’s B Magic posted up wit’ these .45s
Just know it’s Magic when they tell you that the show arrived
Every Fuckin’ Bar - ball!