Correction Lyrics Rum Nitty vs. Real Name Brandon by URLtv

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Lyrics

I ain't even wanna have to do this to you, gang
You gon' need extensive surgery if I gotta get yo' head tapped
Big-a** Glock
It fly by Nit then yo' head wrapped, on God!
I pull up right to where yo' set at in jet black
Backpackin' a baby; look like a stepdad
Warnin' shot, kick in the door like, "Where the checks at?"
My dawgs run in after the rounds; they gotta fetch that
You a lil n***a wit' pride
You my brother but I promise, if I gotta put my hands on Rum, I can't hold you
You know where I see you, Nit? I just told you
I'm from 'Dena, product of my environment
It's how we was raised that got us trippin'
You ever notice how when you move out the hood, go back to visit, n***as be different?
I got a homie that was strictly a hustler; now, he a killer—the hood changed him
Think Geoffrey on the Fresh Prince remake: n***a literally went from a regular n***a servin' to a gangsta
For, like, fifteen hunnid, n***a, I get you mangled
By some lil Simbas that laugh in the face-a danger
But I get it; you don't know how the gorillas move out here
If I go in my bag: llamas, bulldogs, Eagles; it's a—
(Zoo out here!)
They said I wasn't gettin' in wit' my gun
I don't know if they was dumb or crazy
You know what me and Monet from Power got in common?
We both know how to hide a baby
I run up on him, make him swing, hit him with that whoopsie—dazed him!
He know he was gettin' this type-a Brandon; they hazed him
This .45 blitz every time; ain't no safety
I cop my guns from the same place my mom used to shop: the old Navy
Chrome .380
All I need is one shot; I bet I spell him
Everybody wanna play tough till they find out animals is in the game like Robin Williams
If you can't catch that body sober, you not a killer
You shouldn't have to be off a bean to pop and peel 'em
It's not in ya
Pistol-toter
I'ma make sure it's understood that wit' me, it's magic birthday candles
Once it's lit, it's lit for good
I hit ya block
Pick a spot and get the drop
If this a opp, he gettin' shot
Bullets fly by and sound like Lu when he whip the pot
(This is not—)
Pick a plot then pick a box
He goin' in both—
Before this sh*t even start, it's over, n***a
Where I'm from, the first time you hear the homie real name if you ain't grow wit' him is bein' co-defendants
Off the rip, believe he dyin'
A clean sweep, three-peat
I got the cheat sheet rhymin'
They say the alien be sittin' on bars like—
(E.T. ridin'!)
F**k the deal
I had a dream I smoked the homie
Woke up hopin' that it wasn't real
You wan' get killed?
(Ayy!)
I do this sh*t
Lucrative
Tryna start my year off on a run
I might gotta drop Real Name like a fugitive
You get hit
I let it ring—
(Nah!)
I let it ring and clear out the whole buildin', though
I know exactly what to do when I see Real: fire!
I been on too many drills befo'
You ain't no motherf**kin' killer, bro
Look, Real, I done watched buster n***as like you get exposed
I'm finna scold
(Yeah!)
At least two pa** when I shoot; that's a give-and-go
But wit' a scope, I can shoot from back far
Have you losin' blood from a long-range shot
(How much?)
A half-quart
(Ayy!)
This some sh*t for me to be mad for
'Cause they put me out this b*t*h with, like, five days' notice
I can't wait to run into the Landlord
That part
(What? N***a!)
The K dumpin'
Ya face gushin'
Still have a bunch of Real blood around me
I don't play, cousin!
Ya days numbered
(Ayy! Ayy!)
This n***a through
Instant tool
It's finna be a wrap fast—Jigga who?
Stick and move
We got sticks for you
Or I switchblade Real Name like Duncan Pinderhughes
Lift and shoot
Try to take his head off when the 'matic fire
Rounds goin' by Real Name on the stage—that's Danny Myers
No lyin', I just battled cous'
You know what that feel like?
We locked it in twice
And I'm not goin' back to the parallel universe
I'd rather take Real life
I don't care if we real tight
'Cause after this n***a get stretched
They gon' be askin' if I'm still social wit' Real Name
That's ident**y theft
I'm a vet
I just won the last Ultimate Madness
It's no need to argue, then
This a cakewalk again
Beasley like, "At this point, Rum, you are U.M."
I gotta win
I'm that dangerous
(What? Argh! Ayy! Ayy! Ayy! Ayy!)
Face shot when the MAC ringin'
Now, RNB unidentified—The Masked Singer!
I'ma leave him—
I seen a post that said, "I'm tired-a n***as winnin'."
Well, let's work
This round a lil different
He gon' get murked
'Cause I was thinkin' about that comment when I pinned it
And it had me seein' red first
Lead burst—

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