[Round 1: Saynt]
Saynt vs. Ron Compton, well let’s get straight to it
Slayin’ you, it ain’t no thing, I aim, shoot it
Bang, you get laid out then beat, your dame too
Shit, I’ll beat his main bitch with a bat, do his babe ruthless
Wait, dude, this way too easy
Fry his egg, blood running, death is way too easy
Aim two, squeeze
And you’ll catch a bullet, nigga, this ain’t Drew Brees
Can’t you see I’m blessed? I’ll fuck up the best
Sig smoke, your lungs vexed, this’ll fuck up your chest
They like, “where’d he get his name? He be coming correct”
My name’s Saynt ‘cause I’m the youngest one to come out thе west
So what’s poppin’?
Ron Compt’ get dropped and Ron stompеd then
Leave this nigga covered in blood, he Ron Bompton
Y’all gon’ think he like getting smacked by a man
I don’t need a map, I know Compton like the back of my hand
Your name’s Compton, right?
Well I’m a take that “C” and use it best
Heat to his chest, sixteen, I’m sending you to death
I’m talking sending him to that cold gate but like you’re using Crest
One cap will leave “C” red, I still blew the rest
Y'all know the Crest logo, ‘cause the “C” is red and the rest is blue
It’s clear from my appearance, though
I’m way too over heads for you
So now I’m coming down with it, ladder and the pound, shit
The clip stick out like your teeth, I’ll dent his mouth with it
You got issues, we pop nickels, a glock hit you
If I’m pissed and I get the drop, I will not miss you
I don’t need a beam when I tote my pistol
Hit his apple with no dots like I don’t got signal
The big homie told me, “Saynt, it’s time to play your best”
So now I’m shooting like I’m Kobe in the playoff stretch
With a long 16, *Pow*, place y’all bets
If Ron ‘Compton’, let’s see if he can AR test
No, nigga, I mean really pass the AR test
On everything, I’m on his block, extra mean, weapon clean
I seen his partner like, “you know that nigga Ron? Where is he?”
He point him out, I’ll hawk him down, I never settle beef
But Ron tried to change his name soon as he met a piece
[Round 1: Ron Compton]
First of all I want to acknowledge the beautiful Ms. Pritchard
Ayy, she brought out the West Coast Elites
I wish blessings on this venture
And I came here to showcase my art
But y’all gotta give me a minute to paint the picture
Boy, that Finesse something, ain’t she?
She put a little Saynt with a sinner
But they say a saint is just a sinner who fell down and got up
Well I say they’re gonna need collection plates to put money in when they’re getting him up
If it’s war, I might get to drumming when Saynt go marching in
That’s the turnt part
Or I can just set dog’s house on fire and watch the Saynt burn hard
Or it can be his wedding day, I’ll catch Saynt in the sanctuary
Wait ‘til they say “I do”, then pray on whoever Saynt married
The homie don’t want to blast for me, see he’s not violent in nature
But he gave half of your family straps and told them bow with your neighbor
Whatchu know about war, little nigga? See I’m all in it
I don’t pray for fame, I pray the system give my niggas back
This ain’t gon’ be debatable, all that politicking, I ain’t into that
So I’ma throw him off a hill or he gon’ feel the burn like a Democrat
Where’s your niggas at? They’re supposed to be around for you
‘Cause when shit get heavy
They’re supposed to help carry the load and put it down for you
And you make a lot of noise
But I’m wondering, really, how sound are you?
I should creep up on this little lost nigga like, “Nigga, how found are you?”
I brought rounds for you, but these are not written
They off the top, under your top spinning
But I just came here to say “fuck Saynt”, ain’t no need to be subtle
And when the round’s on point you don’t need a rebuttal
Mafia, bitch
[Round 2: Saynt]
West up, it’s time for us to get on, damn
Since we on the same team, you’re my kinfolk, fam
But if you want to act tough, then this shit gon’ blam
I’m D. Russell, I’m the one that sneak the nick’ on cam
It’s ninety seconds, so I don’t got no kind of patience
No conversation, these clips are my Ron compilation
Stop the faking, one-on-one, I’m wanting you to flex
Ron Comp’, you the reason they’ll have no trouble shooting tecs
Who’s the best? You? Stop the tripping
I add it up, the sum of mine is you ain’t got the difference
So who the fuck signed off on my opposition
I brought the sig for anyone on Ron’s competition
Competition? I got none, so now I’m finna mess around
You vs. Michael, you called Clutch to the front for the second round
*Blaow*, then called Clutch to the front, for the second round
I plan murder, catch him at the Tan Burger
Bullet in his mouth, he was trying to eat his hamburger
Caught him on Rosecrans then I bust his noggin
Said that just to say I killed Clutch in Compton, nigga
What can stop me? Drop whoever thought it was you
I chop ‘em in two, then point it at the top of your roof
Smith to his lips, that’s a Jada kiss, I’m not gonna shoot
I had a black thought to pull them fucking locks from the roots
You’re not the top dog in Compton; Bars? You lack any
I will absolutely school boy, take the Q, you can’t rap with me
See you’re flow’s crack, but it’s no Jay Rock
Don’t act silly or this K dot with the wood stocks, smell like a black hippy, nigga
[Round 2: Ron Compton]
Ayy, I want to play a game that all of us like to play
And y’all niggas know it’s true
It’s called “You Told a Nigga”
Where a nigga take what you said and try to say it doper than you
Well you told a nigga, “when pussies get scared they start ovary acting”
That was the ultimate cool
But I bet the strap’ll pass the homie field, open your tubes
Ron ain’t the one to tango with
You really want to rumble with him?
Well it ain’t a dance if I come swinging arms for that funky chicken
And if he rise, you know angels came down for him
‘Cause I even shot him in his ankles
It look like he was clown walking
I don’t do much talking, no, I let the tool talk and
Slide on back on some smooth shit
It look like he was moon walking
You wasn’t ready for this, a different time maybe
This little nigga finna be on the ground gyrating
But that’s the Crybaby
Okay, I’m done with the dance moves
I’m a get the rookie
But I just figured since he’s a little nigga
He’d appreciate somebody picking boogies
I’m a rapper now, killing niggas was my old hobby
But if I do take it there, kid, you’ll stand the rain like the old Bobby
You’re getting older now
Before you get in the field tripping, you gotta prove permissions
So get your mom on the telephone, man
Or I’m gon’ hit you with the new edition
His bitch gon’ need a bodyguard
When I pull up and start dumping
Or he can get the fade lined up where his gums be
I’ll leave a gap in his mug, I told him “Don’t try to grin”
He said, “Why you being cruel?”
I said, “Bitch, that’s my prerogative”
We got a problem, Houston
I ain’t know the nigga was that soft
And what’s in my arm strong
It’ll send him to the moon if it blast off
He say, “Money well spent”, you work hard for the money?
That’s cool
Well why you’re doing that your bitch is giving felacio
And it’s ironic, ‘cause she’s well-rounded but a basic ho
So I ain’t talking about a fat mexican when I say 3-0-4, the whole ratio
But I just came here to say “fuck Saynt”
It ain’t no need to be subtle
And when the round’s on point you don’t need a rebuttal
Mafia, bitch
[Round 3: Saynt]
Can y’all believe this midget keeps calling me “little bro”?
Nigga, you seem a little slow, so for that, I’m a beat your ass a little mo’
Nigga, you are not murking me, I murderize certainly
Run in his bachelor pad, then murder Ron, first degree
Have him on the news, mom hurting, pop thirty
These will hit his white tee, now that nigga Ron Burgundy
What the fuck you think you could do to me, fam?
Throwing bullets in Inglewood is the usual, damn
So in Round 2, that computer shit I used on the man
I’m St. Louis, hit his memory, he losing a ram, nigga
I got the chopper and the pistol, now I’m lurking behind him
Emperor’s New Groove, how he turned to the llama
.44, offed his first nigga, this is Obama
I cave his chest and shoot in it like I’m filming Osama
And shout out to everybody that’s in the crowd pulling for me
New Jack City, this little bitch will take a bullet for me, nigga
But you’re the leader of the Mafia, he live with the dreads
These bars hard and do way more cheffing than Trez
I’ll catch him while he’s with his bitch, force fed her some lead
He’s godfather, so I’ll chop this whore’s head in the bed
But this the Inception, so I figured we can speak on the plot
He’ll get washed up, sure, but he’ll dream of a box
So if he want a lot, nigga, we can meet in the lot
In the end I’ll spin his top, is he sleeping or not, nigga
[Round 3: Ron Compton]
You was born in ‘96, right? Same year as my baby brother
Man, you ‘90s niggas swear y’all know everything
But you’re just a baby, brother
He only nineteen, but don’t get me wrong
He got heart, he say he came to win
But if age was money you couldn’t even withdrawal from the ATM
Let’s say he make a friend
She’s twenty-eight, bad, and got her shit together
Said she’s trying to get her section ate
But she pay her own rent, her and her moms don’t live together
What I mean is, she’s trying to get together
Texted him like, “Come through, bring something to drink, I’m a cook”, then sent a fire picture
This simple nigga brought lemonade
He couldn’t even buy her liquor
Get her formation, lil’ nigga, see it’s way bigger than a beehive
But ooh it stings to lose your niggas over street signs
I remember being knee high, my momma pulling me aside
Telling me, “Keep your hands down when you take pictures
‘Cause gang bangers don’t understand peace signs”
And I’m a keep mine, I didn’t get it yet
I was still playing with G.I. Joe’s, and smoking candy cigarettes
See you’re from the digital age, I’m from the G era
But this old piece on my side will fuck around and separate you from your future,
Now you Ciara
What you know about rocks, lil’ nigga?
See the ‘80s was the stone age
What you know about life, lil’ nigga?
Some of my niggas got that before they was your age
You boys nowadays is sissified, so quick to pick a gun up
But I had to learn how to duck bullets when I was still playing Duck Hunt
So I don’t like niggas talking ‘bout it, unless they really been about it
And besides if you’re smart, the goal is to get up out it
And you can’t know where you’re going if you don’t know where you been, nigga
‘Cause everything repeats itself like, here we go again, nigga
For example, I’ll give him a round then hit him up again, nigga
Circle the block, like here we go again, nigga
But I just came here to say, “Fuck the streets”
Get your degree, at least try, nigga
‘Cause you ain’t nothing but a B. Jean
You should be trying to stay alive, nigga
See I could have really killed you today
But I want you to thrive, nigga
‘Cause you got your whole life ahead of you
But it’s the end of time, nigga
Time, nigga
