Vs Pro (NS)
 

Vs Pro

I got all kinds of weapons. I’ll find his group and start spraying bursts./
The four’ll gore ya torso, then it’s Ora et labora—you better hope the prayin’ work./
Or Punches will toast P, if he’s coming and both swing/
Then his crew will be like the top dawgs—they running the whole thing!/
Have my men uppin the rockets—NCAA—a bunch of dudes gunnin’ for a Pro team./
But Pro would never throw down, he doesn’t have the PROtein./
If I swung he would ghost me—even if this was the ‘major leagues’ we ain’t gonna see ‘PRO’S SWING’/
Mar his face just sparrin. He’ll get brutalized in any fight he’s taking part in./
Just ‘brushing up’ with me me will his appearance altered—MAKE UP ARTIST./
And If you paid for getting bodied it’d be hard to count ya loses./ Every battle like Patrick Mahomes—money out the pocket./


Light him up. Rob his ass of his nicest stuff./
“DON’T MOVE!”, any pro motion with send you to higher ups!/
I got a rifle always on me for menacing works./
Take your top off, no cap, like you entered a church./
Have him bleeding gallons. Get some armed guards, you’ll need it faggot./
HEATERS CLAPPIN. I GOT SOME IN THE BARREL THAT’A HAVE YOU COVERED—TEESHIRT CANON./
Retire you from kik. After this he is out. I’m sheddin’ you./
One hit and your down. After this, you won’t be ‘stickin’ around’ like the letter Q!/
The rounds busting in record time. Every tick of a watch is a clip from glock. The Shells’ll pop./
Aim n shoot; Bangers boom whether he yells for help or not./
Several shots! Two sticks pointed at the top—ITS TWELVE O’CLOCK./
A dual at high noon. The shooters fry you./
There’ll be no cap on the kid—a Lutheran high school./

If y’all making a list and Dope isn’t high, I’ll aim the pole at this guy./
Have my bois ‘uppin rockets’, if they blast off, ‘pro’s in the sky.’/