Lyrics World War 3 - Vi Seconds , Gawne

Oh, God, Father, what have we done?
Try and hide, you could pray to the sky, or you could run
But, nobody is escapin' the eye of the all-seeing ones, above
Yeah, me and Six, 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, pass it to Six, and he draws
He puts that gun to your jaw, uhn-uhn!
Like the hair of Rapunzel, you fall
Rappin' underdogs, collab on a song

Wu-wu-wu-wu-once upon a time in like '96, when I was a tiny shit
Born into the world, where the doctors said I was a whiny kid
Cried a bit, then I tried to spit
Yeah, I admit, my first words were something like, "Flibbity-hibbity"
Ch-ch-ch-choppa flow, when I lock and load, my shit is unstoppable

All I ever wanted was my momma 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 motherfucking house
Since the motherfuckin' doors shutted, I been cold-blooded
Growin' up, with like no money
Without a full stomach, made me so hungry

So, fuck a candy bar, I only eat the rappers
I decapitate em', no chanting, and turnin' emcee backwards
'Til their spleen fractures, I leave gashes, and mean scratches
As I'm relapsin' on caffeine capsules, I wreak havoc on

Clock is tickin', I yawn, yuh
Tick-tick, I rap long, yuh
All I ever did, was get up on the mic
And murder every single song, yuh
Motherfucker, we is reckless
No diss record
Just Luke Gawne and Six Seconds
Gotta respect
Rappers in my scope, I got a lot
Yeah, I lost to Six, he's the Gawd
But, y'all must'a forgot, agh, y'all must've forgot
I don't sneak diss, little pussies, you'll get popped

Don't confuse this shit, when it comes to battle rap
There's not a dude, besides Six, on this YouTube shit
That can go against me, and not lose real quick
That includes Munfu, and that Scru Face bitch
Ya'll are fuck buddies, damn, it's no wonder you're butthurt
Scru, this ain't Upchurch, I'll expose pussies, like up skirts
If country singer's makin' you lose
Then, come at Shaq one more time, and I'll make you No Life Scru

Half you motherfuckers 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 raw cappin'
Better call the cap'n, go fall, back like trick or treatin'
It was all sweet, 'til I light you up, like a jack o' lantern

I feed 'em that Eden apple, believe in that
I'm not leavin' emcee, with an L-O-S-E
In the heat of battle, elementary level of rappers
All I needed to get beef, from you cattle
I wreak the havoc, never cease, 'til I see the maggots
Eat you bastards, fuckin' 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 merked 'em, oh shit
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 three is certain
'Cause, these emcees are blind of my skill, they can Nazi, like Germans

Everybody thinkin' they really 'bout it
When on Twitter, tweetin' all this shit, about me
Keep on talkin 'bout me, 'til you catch a bounty
Then, they find your body, with the chalk around it
Yeh, boo-hoo, little wack fools
Ya'll rap dudes, wearin' poo-poo pampers
All of y'all been movin' weird
I hate motherfuckin' 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 escapin' the eye of the all-seein' ones, above
Yeah, me and Six, we meet again
Round three ain't the same

I developed a habit, of sorts
I'm the type to kill you, then do a collab, wit' your corpse
Send words at me, then I'ma let the ratchet retort
Sidebar, Scru, and Munfu, my mandem, of course

I will poof you, niggas, if I choose to
I'm coo-coo, nigga, deuce-deuce spitter
I hate most of you, YouTube niggas
Get stupid, if we fall out, like a loose tooth, nigga
The handy-dandy draw, like Blue's Clues, nigga

Ya'll fuckin' embarrassin, y'all don't got etiquette
Y'all don't know how to act
Do anything for applause, 'til you end up gettin' clapped
Cornballs, that wanna box
But, none these niggas know how to scrap
Fuck niggas that wanna diss
But, none these niggas 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 niggas y'all gossip 'bout, try breakin' the bread

What part of the game is this? Why y'all niggas so pussy?
Keep clackin', 'til I clack it, 'cause you've chosen to push me
Cut those versus verses, you be rehearsin', wit' all them curses
'Cause, most of y'all the nicest mothafuckers, 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 bitch 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 shit out yo' pockets
I'm the whoopin' that you don't want, you'll never be ready
Y'all niggas' grown ass men, still lookin' like you give wedgies
I'm different

Watch your mouth, when speakin' my name
You're in arm's reach, the arm's reached, so stay out of my range
I wont neglect you
I'm makin' sure to forget you, when the tech pkew
If you ain't never rap with me, I pro'ly don't respect you

YouTube done bred pussies, this a venue, for a front
Hold my four front, blinkin' at everyone on the forefront
These fast-rap niggas, that don't say shit
These niggas that love to Tweet about you
But see you, and don't say shit
Then can't kick, you'll get filleted, but I don't say shit
On the side, I got lines for all of y'all, like a K-swiss

The nicest nigga in this bitch, I'm death to you rappers
Insecurities got you buggin', who's protectin' you actors?
Every play from y'all is scripted, all you fuckin' doin's bitchin'
Then shit get real, you backpedal and act upliftin'
Ya'll cornballs, and now you hear me speakin' to you
You hearin' me pop smoke, rest in peace, to the Wu, it's Brooklyn

And, I don't care if you a nigga that does reactions
A Paul's brother, K-S-I, 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, now there's a reason to discuss me
I know some of y'all wanna punch me, but won't touch me
Unless it's it's a beauty guel, that's tryin' to fuck me
The rest of you muh'fuckers, ain't lucky, I'm coming

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