Correction Paroles World War 3 par GAWNE

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Paroles

Oh God, Father, what have we done?
Try and hide, you could pray to the sky, or you could run
But nobody is escaping the eye of the all-seeing ones above
Yeah, me and VI, we meet again, round three ain't the same

As a brawl, this time, we comin' for y'all
I put the clip in the MAC, pa** it to VI and he draws
He puts that gun to your jaw— "Doo-doo!" Like the hair of Rapunzel, you fall
Rappin' underdogs collab on a song
On-on-on-on-once upon a time in like '96, when I was a tiny sh*t
Born into the world, but the doctors said, I was a whiny kid, cried a bit
Then I tried to spit, yeah, I admit, my first words were somethin' like "Flibbity Hibbity"
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Choppa flow, when I lock and load, my sh*t is unstoppable
All I ever wanted was my mama to be proud
All my life, I had anxiety that I would let her down
Watched her break her back to make a check, it hurt so bad, I bounced
From the couch, out the motherf**king house
Since the motherf**kin' doors shutted, I've been cold-blooded
Growin' up with like no money without a full stomach made me so hungry
So f**k a candy bar, I only eat the rappers
I decapitate 'em, no Channing, and turn an emcee backwards
'Til his spleen fractures, I leave gashes and mean scratches
As I'm relapsin', I caffeine capsules
I wreak havoc on, clock is tickin', I yawn, yeah
Tick-tick, I rap long, yeah, all I ever do is get up on the mic
And murder every single song, yeah, motherf**ker, we is reckless
No diss record, just Luke GAWNE and VI Seconds, gotta respect it
Rappers in my scope, I got a lot
Yeah, I lost to VI, he's the GAWD, but y'all must've forgot
Ah, y'all must've forgot
I don't sneak-diss, little pussies, you'll get popped
Don't confuse this sh*t, when it comes to battle rap
There's not a dude besides VI on this YouTube sh*t
That can go against me and not lose real quick
That includes Munfo, and that screw-faced- (B*t*h)
Y'all are f**k-buddies, damn, it's no wonder you're b***-hurt
Scru, this ain't Upchurch, I'll expose pussies like upskirts
If country singers makin' you lose
Then come at Shaq one more time and I'll make you No Life Scru
Half you motherf**kers ain't rappers
You're reactors, like Joe Budden when he's podcastin'
That rap-hat of yours is on backwards
I'm sick of talkin', let's get to rappin'
I'm sick of tweetin', you all cappin'
Better call the cabin, go fall back
Like trick-or-treatin', it was all sweet
'Til I light you up, like a jack o' lantern
Feed 'em that eatin' apple
Eve and Adam, I leave an emcee
With an L-O-S-E in the heat of battle
Elementary level of rappers
All I needed to get beat from you cattle
I wreak the havoc, never cease 'til I see the maggots
Eat you b*st*rds, f**kin' with the most "He's dramatic"
Emcee ever, but I seek to damage
How many rappers murdered?
Put the bodies in the bag, they deceased; I murked 'em
Oh sh*t, I think I see one squirmin'—
It's Dax!
So should we leave 'em breathin', or unleash the demon lurkin'?
Peace on Earth is slowly fleeting
World War III is certain, 'cause these emcees
Are blind to my skill, they cannot see, like Germans
Everybody thinkin' they really 'bout it
When they Twitter-tweetin' all this sh*t about me
Keep on talking 'bout me 'til you catch a bounty
Then they find your body with the chalk around it
Yeah, boo-hoo, little wack fools
Y'all rap dudes wearin' poo-poo pampers
All of y'all been movin' weird
I hate motherf**kin' YouTube rappers
Oh God, Father, what have we done?
Try and hide, you could pray to the sky, or you could run
But nobody is escaping the eye of the all-seeing ones above
Yeah, me and VI, we meet again, round three ain't the same

I've developed a habit of sorts
I'm the type to kill you, then do a collab with your corpse
Send words at me, then I'ma let the ratchet retort
Side bar, Scru and Munfu, my mandem of course
I will poof you n***as, if I choose to, I'm coo-coo, n***a
Deuce-Deuce spitter, I hate most of you YouTube n***as
Get stupid, if we fall out like a loose tooth, n***a
The handy-dandy drawn like Blue's Clues, n***a
Y'all f**kin' embarra**in', y'all don't get etiquette; y'all don't know how to act
Do anything for applause 'til you end up getting clapped
Cornballs don't wanna box, but none of these n***as know how to scrap
F**k n***as that wanna diss, but none of these n***as know how to rap
See the ratchet; the blood sucker, if you speakin' on me, brother
It get poppin' for the views since you like leechin' off each other
I'll be in the cut, watchin', shakin' my head
Same n***as y'all gossip 'bout try breakin' the bread
What part of the game is this? Why y'all n***as so pu**y?
Keep clackin' 'til I clack it 'cause you've chosen to push me
Cut those versus verses you'll be rehearsin' with all them curses
'Cause most of y'all the nicest motherf**kers in person
These ain't bars, I'm just tellin' y'all what all of your lives like
If you sleepin', you get plugged, lit up, like a night light
I'll give it to anybody in this b*t*h for the profit
Tryna say I ain't the Gawd only shows the false prophets
I'll be where your IP is, I'll go door-to-door knockin'
To punch you in your mouth and take sh*t out your pockets
I'm the whoopin' that you don't want; you'll never be ready
Y'all n***as grown-a** men still lookin' like you get wedgies
I'm different! Watch your mouth when speakin' my name
You in arm's reach? The arms reach, so stay out of my range
I won't [?] you, I makin' sure to forget you when the TEC "Pew"
You ain't never rap with me? I pro'bly don't respect you
YouTube done bred pussies, this a venue for a front
Hold my four front, blickin' at everyone on the forefront
These fast rap n***as that don't say sh*t
These n***as that love to tweet about you, but see you and don't say sh*t
The K kick, you'll get filleted, but I don't say sh*t
On the side, I got lines for all y'all like a K-Swiss
The nicest n***a in this b*t*h, I'm death to you rappers
Insecurity got you buggin', who's protectin' you actors?
Every play from y'all is scripted, all you f**kin' do is b*t*hin'
Then sh*t get real, you backpedal and act upliftin'
Y'all cornballs and now you hear me speakin' to you
You're hearin' me pop smoke, rest in peace to the woo, it's Brooklyn!
And I don't care if you a n***a that does reactions
A Paul's brother, KSI; I want action
A fake positive YouTube rapper; I want action
I'll back-smack you and put it on Twitter; I want action
Y'all disgust me, and now there's a reason to discuss me
I know some of y'all wanna punch me, but won't touch me
a beauty guru that's tryin' to f**k me
Rest of you motherf**kers ain't lucky, I'm comin'
Oh God, Father, what have we done?
Try and hide, you could pray to the sky, or you could run
But nobody is escaping the eye of the all-seeing ones above
Yeah, me and VI, we meet again, round three ain't the same

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