22-12-2014, 15:05
Раздел: Баттл KOTD

Arsonal vs Shotty Horroh (русские субтитры)

Рады представить вам чувака из Нью-Джерси по правую руку от ведущего - лина UW battle, Arsonal. C левой стороны - северо-западный рэпер Shotty Horroh. Говорят, что сейчас будет идеальный баттл или один из самых идеальных, которые мы когда либо видели. Эти двое уже решили за кадром и Арсонал согласился, что Шотти начнёт первым. Смотрим и комментируем.

Смотреть "Arsonal vs Shotty Horroh":

The rematch of one of the most-viewed battles of all time goes down at KOTD's "World Domination 5."

Текст баттла "Arsonal vs Shotty Horroh":
[Round 1: Shotty Horroh]
Some said I wasn't gonna show up
Well, that's what the talking's about
But I show up for the showdown
To show off when the show's on for all of the crowd
I am here; applyin' fear, like a .44 or a hawk in your mouth
When someone forces you to withdraw an amount
More than a mortgage and house out of your storage account
I am fear, like walking towards that last zombie corpse on the ground after you've used all of your rounds
And you're not sure if he's down
You are scared, it's unfair, that's why he needs to bring his mates to portray he's some John Gotti
But our names says it all
He needs an Arsonal and I just need that one Shotty
"We don't talk about guns here, sunshine!"
Because you don't know the customs in our bits
London man will roll up to the club with two old muskets rolled up in a carpet folded under their armpits
Unroll the rug to expose the type of guns that look like trumpets or something you used to use for hunt in safaris
Point it right in your face
Without so much than a yard between the gun and the target
Buck will put the finishing touches
To the Predator look this motherfucker has started
Tell that crab with the dreads he isn't fucking with Arnie
But wait, I'm a white guy, from England
And I have no business talking about that "Crip" shit
But I do want to talk about that bitch shit
When you nearly got your wig split by Trick Trick
You told him you didn't know Shotgun Suge
Then got on stage and admitted that you did, prick
Soon as you let that shit slip
We saw your face change and your pitch shift
You noticed you wasn't in your district
You was probably on his hitlist, so you gave Calicoe the puppy dog eyes and tried hopping onto his dick
You denied knowing Suge like Peter denied Jesus
We can take this shit to the Biblics!
Whereas I will die for my brothers
And those I have chose to live with
I will refer to those from all religions
I don't promote the Holy Scriptures
All I'm saying, the minute you deny the folks you sit with
It exposed the bitch in that soldier image
What did you think, bro? You was gonna roll to England
And face some over British Chauffer-driven
Bloke that flows about tea, toast and biscuits
Crickets and bowling wickets?
What did you think, I wouldn't expose you like the photo pictures
Loaded up by Loaded Lux of Calicoe when he was goin' swimmin'?
Pussy, know your limits!
What did you think, bro?
I wasn't as cold as most of them old folks in your own division
And I would have leaved you voted with them?
I don't give a fuck if it's no votes and no decisions
The people at home have a right to their own opinions
And the polls and posts are gonna show the business
This is for the folks at home to witness – focus, listen
How can this man hear me?
I'm leaving Arsonal in a predicament like Van Persie
When they transferred him
You wanna talk about gat burstin' and crack servin'
Pussy, I know you don't put that work in
Only time Arsonal lets shooters go is to Mancini or that twat Fergie
Says he's a gangsta though
But if he's catching bodies then why's he touring?
If they've got warrants out for the Glocks he's fired
And he opt to fly then the cops'll find him, surely?
But when they did that background check-out
And his background checked out
They didn't stop him tryin' to board it
It was like they finished top 4 the way Arsonal qualified for Europe

[Round 1: Arsonal]
Once again I'm here, in another cracker's country
In another cracker's face, takin' another cracker's money
Now if this cracker crack a smile
I'ma say ain't nothin' fuckin' funny
You are ugly; in the UK, Arsenal's a household name
A known fact that'll get you far
Wait, I used that against Conceited
I gotta give this Shotty bitch a different bar
My last two opponents both sniffed coke
But through a different straw
Since you like football, I'll chop your head off your shoulders, mate
And kick that shit before it hit the floor
You'd sure fly across this room
Break every lamp and dent the door
All before it fall into the GOAL! I did all that just to score
You the type to put a date rape drug in a drink, don't hit the whore
You got too much pride to ask for my "ortograrf"
So you still ask me for my signature
Now, last night I was this close to dig his lover
I walked out the bedroom to get the rubber
Come back, lift the covers
His bitch in my bed… fuckin' Stifler's mother
Little freak bitch, every day of the week bitch
She wanna snap into a Slim Jim
Ooh yeah, and slobber on that beef stick
Real talk, no jokin', I'll fuck you up on some G shit
Then do it again a lil' different and call it the "Beat Yo' Ass Remix"
Wait, wait, wait, I said that too
Ness was the Beat Yo' Ass Remix
So Shotty, I might have to beat yo' ass truly
They gon' film me beatin' yo' ass and make a Beat Yo' Ass movie
I'ma get ass off beatin' yo' ass
From one of these Beat Yo' Ass groupies
Then have my homeboys come carjack you
For your beat-up ass hoopdie
Now, I feel as though the best place to write rhymes is on the toilet or on an aircraft
I mean, I see straight through the garbage you got in store for me
Your raps clear trash
Now, I'll strap you on a new year Jag doing 95 on a deathpath
So when you crash, syringe needles and razors pop out the airbag
You got a vest on? Headshot
You got a helmet? Neckshot
Ruger in my right hand, two straps, in the left Glock
It's funny how your body went from flesh to a wetspot
I'm squeezin' down on my left and right trigger to shoot
Like I'm still playin' my Xbox
What would you do for a Klondike?
Let me guess, you'd fuck that Big Ang bitch from the Mob Wives
That Blicker ring, I'm hittin' things
Your whole career was just side swiped
Unanymous intervened
DNA throw him in the chicken wing without the fried rice
To beat me, you gon' need street fighters: Ken and Ryu
You gon' need Megan Good's mom's voodoo doll from Eve's Bayou
Two midgets on mopeds with broke legs to breeze by you
And a book on how to deceive, that means Adam need Eve's bible
You big fag, I'll run up on you, pop, slap his dad
Give him whiplash, then put a hand grenade in his shitbag
You a bitch-ass cracker who wouldn't ride if this was Six Flags
I swear to God, I'll put every word on the stitchin' on my Crip flag
I'm out in London on some ape shit
Grape shit, bandana on my face shit
Have him muted, this nigga wouldn't say shit
He unable to talk: he the nigga to catch a case with!
I'll call him "Amnesia": your memory get erased quick
Let me put my hands up and step back for this
'Cause if you a G in any way, shape or form you should react to this
If you got any respect for the relatives that passed
I should get slapped for this
What I'm sayin' is, I shouldn't be able to say another motherfuckin' word after this
But I'm glad your uncle dead, fathead
He wasn't nothin' but a knucklehead crackhead
With a head full of ringworms and a face full of blackheads
He deserved to get caught in the crossfire when that MAC spread
And if God gave him a second chance at life
I'd wish him back dead!
On some wild guy shit, I'd go to his grave, dig him up
Chop his body and smoke his ashes on some How High shit
And as soon as his ghost appear
I'ma turn into Dan Aykroyd and hit him with that Ghostbuster
Just to make sure the coast is clear
And when I meet him in the upper room
After the angels bring supper to him
I swear to God, we gon' stomp him in front of Jesus
Me and a hundred goons
Now, if I'm lyin', I'm dyin' and I ain't dead, so here's the topic
Last night, I was on a stage at a rave
And a crowd was formin' a moshpit
I seen a nigga gettin' shot, brutally beat, dropkicked
And a Vietnamese gangsta done stabbed a nigga with a chopstick
I'm thinkin' in my head, "Damn, that's some nasty-ass shit!"
Out the corner of my eye I see this nasty-ass bitch
It was Shotty Horroh's mom flashin' them saggy-ass tits
I told my dawg put his paws on her, he Lil' Scrappy'd that bitch
Three minutes!
Listen, I get love in the room from the men, women and children
And tell that fuckin' security guard I'm the only thug in the building

[Round 2: Shotty Horroh]
This is Saw, I am Jigsaw – you wanna play a game, don?
Don't Flop got some kinda hype
And you've tried to walk through this door with that sensor beam
So I constructed a trap attached to the frame's lock
A 12-gauge prop with its aim locked and a brain shot
Soon as you get your foot in the chain pops
Breaks off, forcing a mechanism to press the trigger
And give him ghostface features like a tape of Raekwon's
What I'm saying is, it's a trap; he walked into that Sensa
And walked into a Shotty takin' his face off!
You wanna box like Rocky, we can do that ASAP
I'm Diddy behind them hooks like, "Take that! Take that!"
Your boys might jump in, you look like Wale so they may back
But you in England right now
And I know this one motherfucker called "Payback"
You gonna dread-locking up with me
This won't be no close shave, fam
You won't let the chrome spark
You have no arms, I should've battled Ahab
I'm about to go from the culture you oppose of
And vulture-look at the money grab and make cash
See, I'm about the science, he's about the math
That means we are not the same class
I roll up on him while he's listenin' to his Drake tracks
With a blade that'll take off that Lil Wayne mask

[Ghetts: He's fucking gassing me up!]

You'll pull out Squidward's clarinet, but you don't play that
You'll have blades travel down you faster than skate ramps
Or Wesley Snipes on a train track
You're fake, I'm in a position to say that
'Cause when I'm gonna off man like Dustin
I'll see all the matches like Rain Man
He sounds like he about to say
"Hey! Smokey back here takin' a shit!"
That makes me think that you blaze crack
You this hyper 'cause you burn stones in white Ace cans
And you're ashamed so you cover up the burning like Kane's mask
So you moved down south?
They're just gonna start finding your needles in haystacks
Addiction is a sickness, you are ill – that's why you hate Smack
Everytime you hear his name you want to do 8 grams
And make a vein clapse
And stop talkin' about midgets, 'cause I motherfuckin' hate that!
No, no, that's not it
I'm sayin' midgets are really cool people
But they are though, they're just misunderstood
And just for that
I hope an Oompolumpa gives a footrub to your mum
She ends up with an Ewok in her mouth and a munchkin in her cunt
Wankin' seven dwarves while Mini-Me and Willow cover her in cum
You could never talk about people's physical appearances when you look like both Kenan and Kel
You look up to small people
You wanna be like Illmac and Conceited as well
You believe midgets are little magical demons with spells
That don't receive any L's
And that's why he dropped to his knees against Dizaster
Just to see if it would help
Look at his face though, he's scared to death
What kind of fucking Crip shows up to the bits wearing red?!

[Round 2: Arsonal]
I knew you would say somethin' about my battle with Dizaster
That's your downfall, Shotty, you one predictable-ass rapper
Your girlfriend got the same physical features as Fat Bastard
Her stomach stick out further than her booty do
That bitch literally ass-backwards
Let a nigga come to my city talkin' them real nigga lines
I'ma show him, in my city we like to kill niggas' moms
See, all the real niggas either dead or in jail
Only a few real niggas rhyme
I never seen a clock or a casket in a cell
So in my book, Smack, ain't no such thing as real nigga time
Y'all wanna know why I didn't battle on the last Smack?
You can have that, that ain't even what I'm mad at
I'll change numbers, if they can't dial Jones
They stock drop like the Nasdaq
I'll pistol whip your skull 'til Calicoe get his dad back
I said no fingerprints on the gun, my gloves made out of glad wrap
So if I hit you with a straight right, then you entitled to jab back
I'm tryin' new shit in this battle: experimentin' with a lab rat
I ain't even takin' you serious
This just some comical shit to laugh at
I can never get tired of fans, I mean as long as it's not a Stan
I went from Math to a Klu Klux Klan member hologram
You look like a white supremist chemist that's part of a Taliban
Who talk tough in his rap, with the heart of Juwanna Mann
I'll snatch your soul like Shang Tsung
Slit your throat with Kitana fan
Then grab the Robert Downey Jr. off my waist
That's that iron, man
I own UW battle league, but I started in the Lionz Den
I'll have you in a coffin tellin' stories
That mean in a casket you lyin' in
That'll teach this homie not to ever falsify again
My mission's to defeat you 'til they greet you in a higher land
I'm in a riot van, strapped like a cop, dressed like a fireman
When my cannon start wildin' out I ain't talkin' Mariah man
Now let me ask you: have you ever been in a jail cell?
Have you ever heard a Ruger go off besides Hell Rell?
Do you have the mindpower to turn a dyke bitch into a girl girl?
And get the same beats free that Kanye and Pharell sell?
No, 'cause you ain't like me, now you don't like me
You threatenin' to swing, just do it! Oh, you ain't Nike
Eurgh said you the best and I shouldn't take you lightly
But I only came to fuck three British bitches and sightsee
This is no comparison, switchblade your abdomen
Squeeze down your vocal chords, Shotty'll never rap again
In a few days the whole world'll see what these cameras capturin'
A million views guaranteed and I bet you they want me back again
I'm streetsmart and book smart
White boy, you just look smart
If life was an automobile, it's a Suburban
And you only gon' find me in the hood parts
Let me break that down, I said: I'm streetsmart and book smart
White boy, you just look smart
If life was an automobile, it's in the suburbs
And you only gon' find me in the hoodparts
Obviously I was brought up 'round poverty
Psychologically, I got the mindpower to separate you from the thug that you disguised to be
Since views don't lie and I got the whole world watchin' me
A science lesson is what this gotta be
On how to break down an Adam properly
Now, I wanted to physically get at him
So I went on Twitter to add him
I found out his name was Adam
So I gotta break down an Adam
See, the definition of "atom" is the basic unit of matter
So when your mother named you Adam
She was inferring, basically, you didn't matter
Same name, spelt different, but with the same definition
I mean if Adam and atom is Adam, that ain't repetition
But if Adam's without Eve then men are strong and he's livin' proof
But you a faggot, 'cause you let a pussy trick you
Into bitin' the forbidden fruit
That's when God sent me down here
To snatch every bit of confidence from your conscience
Since you tried and convince the world of your accomplishments I'm your consequence
I'ma derail the niggas you ridin' with
Televise the shit, revise the script
Then keep on shootin' rounds out a chopper clip
Now, I could break down your life in eight bars
You really ain't hard, you a fake fraud who used to play ball
In battle rap you the Ray Charles, meaning you ain't seein' nobody
But actin' like beatin' me really ain't hard
Your chances slimmer than Big T in China
Runnin' a marathon on the great wall
Wake up, if he front linin', I'll shoot him in his 8-ball
All y'all clothes gon' be red like y'all was hit with all red paintballs
My goons travel with me so I barely gotta make calls
You wanna be a leader?
Stand in front of LeBron on a fast break, nigga, take charge
I hate y'all… and "hate" is a strong word
But I just cooked, killed, buried this nigga – them all verbs
An action word describin' the pain that I caused
And it all serves the same purpose
Your life's a circus, you clown niggas is all herbs
You a herb, I'm a smoker though
I'm walkin' round with a Pinocchio
That's a long range with a long nose so I'm hittin' targets in Tokyo
When that bullet hits you, it make you say "Aah"
You my Jun Jun, you Lil' Romeo
You a bitch and a snitch so I'm lettin' all your little homies know
Now, like I said before…
Everybody in the building love me: men, women and children
Tell the security guard one more time
I'm the only thug in this building!

[Round 3: Shotty Horroh]
Eurgh, this is my main event? I'm not even part stressed
That's some cheap Wayne lookin' T-Pain fell asleep on a park bench with a large head lookin' like a Klingon from Star Trek
He loves Crippin' up, but since he fucks with them Bloods
He's an unfinished book 'cause he's part red
But who you reppin', dude?
You're both red and blue, like the second suit of Clark Kent
Well, I'm the Kryptonite to this Crip tonight
Lex Luther, forget Mook, I'm your arch-nemesis, heartless
What happens when those Bloods and Crips have a disagreement?
What does your heart rep?
Do you rep that flag, and dead that man
'Cause his garms red, even though you half-bred?
Or do you rep the friendship you have
From standin' next to that man through war talk and calm threats
And kill your own like Saddam's men and Bin Laden?
What did you think, there was no space in my graveyeard left?
This is wrong, I mean ron, you could never give AR tests
You say your hands blue like hypothermia?
That's not what my gangsta radar said
All you Reds and Blues flaggin' together look like the Union Jack
And you can get your union jacked for tryna claim our set!
This is a blue gettin' caught red-handed
Same time I'll have his palms read
I can read your future, it says if you ever had Horroh scope
You was tryna find out what the alignment of the stars said
I don't know a shadow about the Tarot
But let me tell you what the cards read: murder
Plus I shuffle with a half deck, and every singe card's "death"
This is how it's meant to be done
Here's how you decompile an arsenal into fractions and bits
This is someone that claims to have beat Dizaster
This is someone that actually did!
With all due respect it's not about the flag that you grip
It's about the fact that your mans a slag with a dick
That will shag her actual kids
For a drag off your spliff or a packet of crisps
Let's talk about his mum though, 'cause she's a slut
Her pussy's got fallopian tubes
That are growing and ooze
That's left the pussy swollen and bruised
And smelling like smouldering fumes
Everytime your dad tries to poke with his tool
He disturbs a million crabs tryin' to go for a snooze
As they hold on her pubes
She got fucked off every rapper in here
On camera, it looked like an actual cypher
I mean I fucked her, she got passed to Delypher
She had Unan and Pamflit beside her, passing a cider
Shit, we need some more camera angles on her nasty vagina
So we opened up the fucking nasty vagina
Put bodybag on his camera and flyer
Shit, even Sam the graphic designer smashed her
And passed on the flyer!
Now you're in another cracker's stage
On another cracker's stage, wishin' that he didn't battle
Oh my god, Shotty done fucked another kid up
Hip hop's Jimmy Saville!
And your dreads look stupid as fuck!
You're always causing fights in your battles
I find that shit more than pathetic
I find it ironic that the source of the beef is always the relish

[Round 3: Arsonal]
I blame you, white boy, for 100 years of slavery
Don't play with me, you seen me murder a nigga from A to Z
But that was a tutorial, I was just teachin' niggas to see the way
I knew my alphabet since 3
I'm 25, don't you know I can kill a nigga from Z to A?
For example: I'll hit him why he nappin' catchin' Z's
Your brother ask, "Why (Y) you do that?"
I say his ex (X) pay for it
And if she double, you (W) gettin' blew back
I got a red op like the V A in the mornin'
With a folder full of missions with pictures and you (U) on it
9 under my T-shirt, passenger of that S-Class
Comin' to where you are (U, R), any questions: just ask
Any Q-uestions, just ask
I got a half a P on my trunk, two O's on the dashboard
Listenin' to "Renegade" and Em (N, M) verse on fast forward
L lit, so I'm smokin', O-K, I'm a pot head
Murdered this white bitch like O-J to get away from the cop feds
See, I know that this gold H on my belt cost lots of dough
And as a G it's up to me to make the choice that I gotta flow
If I see your bitch I'ma F her, on sight, no effort
Give her two E pills and give her hard D for breakfast
Now you see (C) how intelligent I can be (B)
When I'm on my A game
That was the alphabetical "orda" "slorta"
In reverse, Shotty Horroh
Now, they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder
Quick draw, you wouldn't see it as it rises from the holster
'Cause my shooter is my driver, he disguises as a chauffer
To keep the element of suprise but bring the violence a lil' closer
If you don't understand that, then your streetsmarts is on retard
And you was brought into this world
With a default called a weak heart
Your little brother trick-or-treat, I'll spray anthrax on his sweet Tarts
Then write a rhyme, describin' the crime
Spittin' a line as soon as the beat start
You a fag! – wait, I'm not gonna call you a fag
'Cause like DNA said, out here "fag" means cigarette
But you a bitch-ass nigga!
Wait, you white, you ain't even a nigga yet!
You a punk-ass white boy who gets tough over the Internet
Facin' an ignant-ass black nigga full of hatred and disrespect
So I close my eyes and drift off into a journey
My mind takes me there… BOOM!
I awake in front of a grown-ass white boy with no facial hair
I'll visit your mom at the doc while she gettin' that pre-natal care
Slice her Achilles' tendon
Open and snatch the newborn baby out of the ankle-chair
Now, all that tough guy "rawr-rawr" shit need to get left alone
You was pronounced dead at the signin' when this was set in stone
Desert Eagle tucked in my linin', you know that weapon chrome
Pistole whip his jaw, I broke his English
Now his broken English even relyin' on Rosetta Stone
What happened to Lab battles? It's funny how shit change
UW had two events, nine battles total, thirteen big names
I hire top tier niggas to fuck each other over, then I flip change
So I'm not only a pimp, my nigga
I'm a mastermind in the pimp game
How dare you try to compete
When I do this shit in my sleep?
I'm the farmer, you the sheep
You couldn't shit out what I eat
You'll be constipated for weeks
I done dominated the streets
Shotty, I'll face fuck your mom while she ovulate in the sheets
See, 'cause I'm the nigga that be tryna get ya
And cause problems with ya
Chopper hit ya, doc will stitch ya
Headshot, your mama miss ya
No blunt, no rolled up papers, when I finally get ya
I'ma cremate you and smoke your ashes out a Bible scripture
I'm disrespectful, I'll scratch my balls then tap your face
I'll smoke a blunt in a confession booth
Whilst confessin' to Pastor Mase
Look at you for 9 minutes with the "this nigga is average"-face
Then breakdown how your girl love to suck dick
Then tongue kiss you with the aftertaste
She try some new shit with me
The car is on the wrong side of the road
The steering wheel on the wrong side of the car
I'm in the passenger sheet, she suckin' my dick while she drivin'
That must be some English shit!
Red light means "Blow, bitch!", green light when she stoppin'
We reached our destination, it's niggas waitin' to put their cock in
If I knew she was into gangbang
Fuck bein' in England, I woulda blew that bitch to Compton
Ruger on my waistline, Buddha got me space blind
How you gon' take charge when my shooter's on the base line?
See, it was all a joke 'til this intruder tried to take mine
I put the seven in your chest
And capture the shootin' all on FaceTime
'Cause I'm a bad mother-shutcho
Wesley screwdriver through your ribs, let your guts show
Throw him off the roof: call him nutso
I got goons you ain't never see before: no MC Gusto
40 niggas, 80 straps, big body, Mercedes black
I'm here to bring the 80s back
When niggas in the streets had beef they had to pay for that
Hand-held .22 that could probably fit in a baby lap
Bodybag, homicide… on the dirt, on the grass
I don't give a fuck, I'm just rappin', yup, I'm tryna spaz
Shotty, guess what? I just kicked fuckin' Shotty ass
Shotty in a bodybag, your bodybag in a—

[Random person in crowd: Bodybag!]

No! In a bodycast!
Now, tell the truth
Why you ain't come to America and battle me in a man league?
You look like the type of nigga
To sniff the car seat right after your man leave
Now, that's some nasty-ass homo shit
Now, I know you seen Dizaster get Dojo kicked
You better be lucky that this battle on some promo shit
'Cause I'm famous for the same sport that got Miguel Cotto rich
And look, I'm done with this white boy; I like you, my man
I'm gon'— oh, alright, he don't wanna swipe with my hand
But guess what? It's cool, it's cool!
'Cause the last white boy who tried me
Eurgh, tell him what I did… I dropped that nigga body!


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