The first Summer Madness battle that wasn’t recorded live due to the battlers not being able to travel overseas because of legal issues.

There is a mutual respect seen in this battle, some might even say a… Read More [Round 1: Geechi Gotti]

Nigga you'se a bitch

You ain't really 'bout that life Crip

You just a wannabe, man on some dyke shit

Chest open, soon as the knife fit, it's turning into a slaughter

Cause now I got his heart on the blade like I'm pimpin' his daughter

Get him some water, he lookin' mad mad

Potato on the barrel, he gettin' hash tagged

Yo' ass trash, and my .38 Special like the first kiss

Spine shot, back out from the Iron on some Surf shit

Speakin' of Tsu, that nigga let you live

I told cuz on the turf you trippin'

Keepin' you breathin' was his worst decision

Matter of fact, baow, now there go that third round Surf was missin'

Boy you trippin', you know I'ma shit starter

Headshot he leakin', then my bitch spark him

Cause lil' baby gunner make him drip harder

I Crip harder, with two Glocks, get ya boo shot

You the leader of the crew? BAOW, it was a casket, 'til I put a quarter in it, now it's a jukebox

Nigga who hot? You only put me on the clique cause you know I'm a shit starter

The Loc make the clique harder

Headshot, now you see his face on both sides, he a trick Quarter

Bro I'm Vince Carter, I came in the league bangin'

Baow, and I'ma shoot 'til the body drop

And like the phone when the call is blocked, I let it keep ringin'

The heat bangin'

On Crip I was gonna star dawg, I ain't even let 'em all off

But the reporter said bro took 15 shots, guess he a ball hog

Fuck all y'all, nigga who got next?

This round went over the head like it was too complex

But he's so muhfuckin' short it's easy to miss

I ain't even think of that, since that bitch went over the top, I had to bring it back

This nigga wack

You stole Tay Roc's style, took gun bars called it a "gun line", it's plain to see

No gray area, black and white like the one time

So bein' called his son, that shit not gon' stop

I used to sell fake dope to fiends

This ain't my first time havin' to serve a knock off Roc

The chopper knock off blocks

It's gon' feel like a missile was sent

Code word: Ya daddy don't love you

[Coffee Brown]

Fuck does that mean?

[Geechi]

This pops ain't gonna miss you for shit

Man you a bitch, you better watch ya words

Shit can get tragic tonight

You can literally die over a gun line like the faggot in Life

I'm packin' tonight, extendo

Man it's hard to keep the gun tucked

Dick swingin' like nunchuck

Tell ya lady "Don't run up", she get a gun butt

And I ain't gotta explain why I hit a nigga bitch, I ain't Young Buck

You a dumb fuck

Get shot in ya face for frontin'

Try to run you hear that {gun cocking} uh uh, Jason comin'

You great wit' punchin' I ain't a Nitty fan

Two straps, baow, baow, them kill shots ain't from the Henny man

The semi blam, was supposed to kill you in London

They would've had the funeral out in AZ, after I get rid of Rum

Cause homies'll pour it (homie's a Poet); KG

Aye G, I don't even think he a Crip it's just something about you

Headshot, he wanna hood hop, I can see the Blood comin' up out you

Nigga I asked yo' bitch what that mouth do

Then I stuck a revolver in her pussy

She'll blew her walls off the hinges

Found out a lot about her, had my nose all in her business

Nigga, speakin' of business, when you talkin' 'bout money

I know that you fakin' Rum

Man, battle rap really know you gettin' paid in crumbs

Come to think, you can't even afford a drink

I know what ya makin' (Jamaican) Rum

Talkin' all this doe, but you wanna rock knock off kicks though

All this cash but fake J's what this fag cop; Carl Winslow

What it hit fo'? I'm from Compton, fuck yo' city

Nigga my state harder, we barely even claim you, you only half West like 'Ye daughter

Every time somebody bring up Crip you go like this

Who you think you scarin' with that? I'm airin' the strap

Yeah Gotti got bundles, that's how I could split this bitch wig with the hair still attached

And when it's real, y'all can tell

Y'all can see it in they eyes

Go 'head Rum see if they believe them lies

[Round 1: Rum Nitty]

Now this shit wasn't up to me, I kinda feel like you tricked me

To battle someone from the team

We supposed to be in London, fuck you mean?

I knew I wouldn't make it though, I never put nothin' overseas (over C's)

We got Rum Nitty vs Bay Bay Loc

AKA Geechi Gotti, this is grade A smoke

I'm finna wig on you, all the way ready for static

If I catch you in traffic, I'ma lift (Lyft) on you, wait outside ya crib for you

For them comments I'ma post up with a short clip, I gotta gift (gif) for you

No game we clap op', couple throwaways

Ain't shit on my name the strap hot

Grab the K with the blade attached, watch

Put the blade in yo' top, now it's a knife stickin' outta Bay in that (bayonet) spot

That's how we pushin' though

Applyin' pressure, 'til they applyin' pressure...on a bullet hole

Your blood will pour from that, God

You gonna need tourniquets, bandages, gauze

This shit is more than rap, it's dirty in the game

I Am Legend, I Will put my own dawg to sleep, don't worry 'bout a thing

Sturdy when I aim

100 buck, you get 77, I made a currency exchange

Don't fuck wit' us, plus I got some cheap overseas killers that run wit' us

For like 30 yens, euros, pounds, they'll rush niggas

Take his gun, stick a 30 in your old pound now it buck different

Fuck nigga, we can scrap fam'

Fast hands, crash land, catchin' wreck like a dash cam'

Masked man, squeeze and BANG

See his brain wave in the machine, it's a CAT SCAN

Come and try, but I'm the one, they send niggas to when they wanna die

I told Ill, it's like a car in London how that shotgun left Will (wheel) right

What a line

Same shotgun and you starin' (steering) from the other side

BAOW

If the contract states we not allowed to hurt him

I disobey y'all (Ja) Rule, Gotti (God he) know I only sign for Murder

Blue flag, wrapped around a G lot

Cause no prints can keep you outta a cell, it's like a screen lock

Whole team, they soft, pull the biggest shift

Nah scratch that, the little grip for the Mafia, I'm DJ Paul

I unload, fast as a Marine, I'm so focused

Then empty out, then add in a magazine in a pro motion

30 popper, I'm finna murder patna

These .50 FN shots ain't Curtis vodka

I do it how the dope smugglers do it, cause every trip I'ma stay in my bag

Just get accustomed to it

Bitch, you can't keep it real yourself

Nigga suicide or I'll do the job

You decide, kill yourself

[Round 2: Geechi Gotti]

They say my rounds be too real, you can really feel what I'm talkin' about

Back of the head with the shot, least now he got some real rounds comin' out ya mouth

Cuz know what I'm about, revolver, nose look like a foot long

Beatin' yo' ass all battle, shit finna feel like a put on

Speakin' of foot on, lookin' at ya background it's time for a check

All them punches, but you prolly never even had a fight in a set

I got my respect, cause niggas know I'm not a rapper, I'm a Crip

All I roll wit' is gangstas

I'll catch him slippin' in traffic and leave Rum spilled all over the whip, shit I could've got arrested for a open container

Bro you a hater, get ya crew wet

Two straps, singin' together, it's a duet

Hit you and ya niggas at the same time, shit these is group texts

Nigga you blessed

I put my MAC down and let bullets from the .9 get sent

You survive this shit, then it's Return Of The Mack, it's a 90's hit

Grimy shit, in the hood where all my time gets spent

I'm on the block airin' niggas shit out like it's my time to vent

Nigga .9's get lift, put a lot on his mind, he a heavy thinker

All they gon' say is, "Rum gone and Gotti killed him." Shit I'ma heavy drinker

Ya girl a tweeker, for that crystal ball she'll do whatever fool

Yo Smack them deposits is straight, but servin' this bitch meth was the better move

So when you ain't around, I slip her (slipper) glass; Cinderella shoes

Nigga I'ma fool

You don't wanna get silly wit' me

Buck 50, going straight to the point, I'm just gettin' down to the Nitty gritty

I'm in Arizona, yeah I'm ridin' through Nitty's city

Bang bang, chitty chitty, headshots, see somethin' come off the top, oh this nigga witty

Nigga really? KG the only one think he a rider

We can shoot it out or we can go wit' the hands

Y'all will see Rum get mixed up somethin' sweet, now he a pina colada

Me? I'ma slaughter, you don't wanna live like this

My shit reckless, I skipped breakfast

That just mean scratch the serial (cereal) guns what I'm talkin'

This .9 ain't got an owner

This bitch an orphan nigga

Get ya coffin, please believe this punk dyin'

Baow, get gun butted, even though I'm loaded I'm still whippin'; drunk drivin'

Nigga fuck lyin', I don't even wanna hear gun bars from a nigga who ain't shot shit

.40 on me, the clip longer than Bigg K block list

I'm from Nitty Blocc Crip

You from Insane? Stop it dawg, baow, oh yeah from he from Insane, cause he ain't got it all

Nigga knock it off

They told me, Don't Be A Menace, but I still showed up to his spot like, "Do we got a problem fool?"

.50 still bangin' on the porch like Bartholomew

Nigga I'ma fool and this nigga Nitty know what it is

I'll bring this house and straight go at his kids

Side shot, just had to go at his ribs

And when it's real, niggas can tell

Y'all can see it his eyes

And when it's yo' turn see if you can make niggas believe them lies

Nigga time

[Round 2: Rum Nitty]

So this who y'all brought to take out Nitty?

How nigga?

He can't out punch or out spit me

Fuck he gonna out Crip me?

I doubt really

This ain't an even playing field, I'm serious

I give niggas that, he ain't even playin' feel

He the Champion though, I can't even hate on skills

You had a good year (Goodyear), now you need to make a will (wheel)

Free smoke season, that's headshots for no reason

This fo' I don't Let Go, the En Vogue treatment

Ya soul leavin', we ain't make London but you'll still be an RIP tat' in Old English

I catch ya bitch in traffic, she'll get popped nigga

I'll pull a white 'Lac, next to ya baby lane like 'Pac killer

Glocks wit' us, I feel like I'm not alone with the arm like Gothika

Block bender, bang on an op' nigga

Trap full of German chops in case SWAT stick us (swastikas)

Whole squad tryin' to do you, really bangin'

There be signs everywhere, you thinkin' God talkin' to you

Everyone on the scene get it, piece grippin'

The .30 clip lickin' longer than Gene Simmons

Who you beat nigga?

You showed Suge a (sugar) high level but you let Glue' coast (glucose) through you, you'se a sweet nigga

You gon' clip who? Bitch move

The Sig' shoot from three feet when the kid pull [pool]

Big tool, get ya bitch blew (blue)

Make her say "Ahh", and then she ate it (initiated), now she Crip too

You think this nigga nice?

We don't even be blackin' equal and you expect me to act civil, right

Steal his life, out in London with the biggest pint, y'all picked this fight

And so y'all got me flashin' on a British night (Knight)

Get replaced by Gotti? Please, stop it

You nice, but I'm Poseidon, this some shit they gotta see (god of sea)

Two Glocks out, one hold 17 and it's 23 in one (23n1)

Gon' get me locked down, I'm talkin' hostile

But I can back it up with a MAC like iCloud

It's just love taps when I'm punchin' on y'all

But for anything over 3Gs, the gloves can come off

Something concealed in the pants tucked, couldn't tell I had one

Til I pull a shotgun outta nowhere, random

That nigga Suge so fuckin' trash, y'all promote him though

Tweetin' like he wanna get in the ring, I know he don't

He must be high, y'all gon' have to give Shotgun mouth to mouth for blowin' smoke

Bitch, you can't keep it real yourself

Nigga suicide or I'll do the job

You decide, kill yourself

[Round 3: Geechi Gotti]

I'm a trap star

I can get you anything from half to a whole P deal

Got fiends comin' back for the white, you would think the Coke have free refills

Nigga when we chill, all the Crips with me, we in the C section

If he flexin', somebody bound to get murked, 'matics will squirt

You will see a body comin' out the box like a natural birth

You look like a Smurf, and everything soft's what you remind me of

They say however you come is how you go and they ain't lyin' cuz

You came out a pussy and now you die in (dyin') one

Try me son, the last nigga to test my gangsta, pass

You do the math, yo' life ain't scary as mine

The only thing I learned in school was how to carry a .9

Nigga we both gang bang, so we know it's some stupid shit

I started 'round 12, I was just a foolish kid

Seen plenty niggas die young, whether it's the Glock or the Ruger spittin'

It's fucked up how niggas families gotta miss 'em, cause them bullets didn't

Nigga who you kiddin'? Y'all know it's cold outside

Somebody get him a sweater for the chopper

Separate his head from his neck, docs gon' have to knit him (Nitty) together

Nigga get it together, I'm tired of hearin' gun bars

I wanna see these niggas really pull triggers

I swear to God, these niggas backgrounds be faker than school pictures

You niggas, know I can teach you all about straps

Llamas and TECs, where I'm from, only thing I can guarantee is murder

Cause I was taught the only thing promised is death

Nigga on my mama you blessed

Cause bro you still breathin'

My partna got a headshot, he vegetable status

They didn't even pull the plug, he literally still, breathin'

It's kill season

If you ain't live like this, then them bars not relateable

I'm talkin' 'bout yellow tape, flesh but the soul not available

Seein' a mama in the corner argue over the body, that's not debatable

Nigga real life, you rap niggas the type to cry cause y'all heard Beanie Sigel got shot, witcha fake ass

Where I'm from, a beanie with some holes in it was just a face mask

I'm masked up, with a point to prove

Walkin' around with so much metal on my hip, you would think I got my joints removed

I had to remove myself from the fake

As a kid I ain't have a lot of hobbies

I remember they said, "Boy go get a life." 'til I went and caught a body

Nigga you can't talk to Gotti, bitch I do the talkin' to

And I don't think he official

If my lady catch me laid up with a ratchet she ain't trippin', she know I sleep wit' a pistol

Nigga, beef what I'm into

Thankin' God I ain't died yet

You ever had to talk to a mother like, "Yo, your son just died."

And she look at you like, "Well nigga why you ain't ride yet?"

The streets will make a mother's love cold and it's sad to say

She don't even give a fuck who killed her son she tryin' to figure out who gon' retaliate

These true stories, type of shit you can't exaggerate

This the school of hard knocks, jail and death is how you graduate

I'm glad you hate, I'm just teachin' niggas stories about a dangerous life

These niggas out here trippin' like, "Y'all seen Kanye's sellin' out to Trump?" That's crazy, right?

Well not to me, since a kid I always knew 'Ye (yay') was white

Nigga, aye it's light

My partna grandma told him, "Chill. Boy you better slow down and get ya head right."

That advice hunt her old ass to this day, her baby got killed at a red light

Where I'm from, homicide, man that shit is mandatory

The shit I seen as a kid will have you traumatized

They hate you when you up, so that moment when you kinda rise

The niggas watchin' become saltier than McDonald's fries

I ain't gotta lie

I really had to pull pistols on niggas that I love

You ever had them problems? Shot a nigga, seen his mama, still asked her 'bout him?

Then when she asked you, "What happened?" You gotta make up stories when she say who got him

It's fucked up but most niggas would be dyin' inside

But I learned to live with it like Magic Johnson

Nigga Magnum's poppin', whoever you came wit', I got a gat for

And that mean everybody get a round of fire (around the fire), we're tellin' camp stories

Relax shorty, I've been shot, I can still feel the pain from it

The shoot outs, we got our name from it

I should've took the good route, instead I took the hood route

Got a bullet in me now, I'm just too lazy to get it took out

Nigga look out, don't be mentioning me

This chopper will flip a Quarter, bitch you wanna kick or receive?

You dealin' wit' a nigga that'll really fuck you up

Stomach shot, they like, "He can't be Crip. This Blood he was chuckin' up."

And when it's real, y'all can tell, y'all can see it in they eyes

Yo' turn, see if you can make niggas believe them lies

Nigga time

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]

We got serial killer Geechi Gotti

This nigga got bodies on bodies on BODIES

Mo' bodies than Mozzi, mo'- nigga you'se a bitch

If I send her through, it's too catch you off guard, that's how you use a bitch

Crucial shit, fuck what crew I'm wit'

Why (Y) jump him? I catch him by myself I could use a pick (user pick)

Raise the straps, so you can set it up, and on tape I'm gonna give Bay the MAC's (Betamax)

Leave a nigga stuck, stretched wit' it

And anyone else on that BS get it (esketit), with the little pump

Send my cut and I tell you now, I'm only gon' fly down and zip shit up

Please push me, pussy I won't go peacefully

100 shots, the piece fully

I reach, pull it, clap some, give you half up front like a league booked it

I up the tool, long barrel

Got you starin' down the whole round, it's nothin' new

The fuck is you? He gets to soul sendin', pull up pole grippin'

Hop out, point on his block like he goal tendin'

This gon' be a hard pill to swallow like gold member

Then I go lift it, I clap a stray, even turn Hollow into a John Doe

Bullet ain't got no name

You be sellin' wigs? Ain't shit that you can tell me nigga

2 Chainz, he done ran into the hair weave killer

No talk we makin' visits, he said, "Niggas talkin' but we lived it."

Since a youngin', I looked up to the robbers and the killers

On God I really lived it

Remember in Space Jam when there was stealin' talents?

Shit I was with the Monsters in the trenches

No fuck nigga scarin' me, ain't you do that can move me, I'm like London security

Cassidy tryin' to make a comeback, but gettin' exposed by drag niggas

Funny you tryin' to switch lanes and got caught up in the trans-ition

We split melons, have ya shit swellin'

Gun butt, now the bottom of the TEC's (texts) red like I misspelled it

You talkin' hostile, I gotta drop you, mollywhop you

The Lefty why you're (wire) a Mafia member, it's Donnie Brosco

We get to clappin' shots, clear out half the spot

Leavin' shit lookin' alienated when we Attack The Block

Bitch...kill yaself