Songtext Catch a body Cassidy

Catch a body

[Verse 1: Cassidy]
My tongue like a gun, it’s time to let a slugs spray
I been made RAID, but I ain’t running out of bug spray
He been a fagot, that nigga always was gay
See he a man bitch, twerking on a man dick
Y’all, he grab balls, no damn nit
But y’all ain’t catch it, I’m infected, I’m too damn sick
They gon’ have this verse bumping like a damn zit
Cause this like tryna make a poodle fight a damn pit
This a dog fight, but every pussy make a dog bite
I’m like high beams, you a fog light
You can’t shine, cause your rhymes just alright
I’m off nigga, soft niggas live a hard life
And I don’t never have an off night
I’m always on my J-O, this a second round K-O
I heard your diss but that shit weak
And you switch beats, that’s the same shit I did on RAID yo
This nigga soft like Play-Doh
I spit fuego, my dudes is moving if I say so
They stay with toasters like an Eggo
Them dudes sick, they a stick a pool stick in your A-hole
Ayo, a been had killers on the pay role
When you was still playing with a Lego
I never wore fake Air Force 1's
I’m in the studio in Gucci’s and Air Force guns
You ain’t nothing like us, I’m the nicest
I was jumping in ciphers while you was in diapers
So don’t disrespect a grown man
Cause I’ll cut your arm off, then smack you with your own hand
Man you said I shoulda died in that car crash
Well I’mma soak you in car gas and light a match
You should stop writing raps cause your bars trash
I’ll have your fraud ass, look like cigar ash
Dag, all burnt the fuck up
You shoulda been learnt that I was turned to fuck up
You said I wear purple Dickies, with du-rag and a 5 X-T
But you dress like a true fag
Tight ass shirts, squeezing your man breasts
Tight ass pants, looking like Spandex
You better stop it, or you get popped like a Xanax
I’m still feeling myself, no hand sex
Yeah, I wasn’t there when the cops came
But how you know, you wasn’t there when the shots bang
Them cats ratted on me when the cops came
I’m a fucking G, I’ll show you my discovery
For real, I ain’t take a deal on my man
I took it to trial, and they squealed on my man
Your career going downhill, I feel for you man
I been having skills man, chill, you a fan
I’m still ill man, and you still a fuck corny
I think this nigga Meek Millz got a crush on me
I’m doing me, I ain’t worrying ’bout your monkey ass
It look like this nigga wearing a monkey mask
You trash, don’t get gassed with your funky ass
You last like a year or two, but your career through
You terrible, why the fuck would I be scared of you
What the hell you telling Cass what your yelling ass
My record five thousand and zero
I ain’t ever lost, I’mma boss, you’s a weirdo
You try to act like you a street nigga
But you weak nigga, you ain’t Mike Knox or Black Dinero
There a lot of Philly niggas that be extra ill
But you just a silly niggas with a record deal
And you a ugly nigga tryna’ have sex appeal
You a Ryder yeaaaa? Get the fuck outta here
I’m put you on the entrée
It’s fucked up what you did to that nigga Lil and Conway
They was the same cats that came up with you
But you ain’t break bread, so they ain’t fuck with you
You be rhymin’ all the time like you bust pistols
But nigga you ain’t got the heart to do it
Stop talking stupid, I ride out, you need starter fluid
I’m tryna keep the game alive, but it’s hard to do it
Cause all these artists make garbage music
That’s why I only listen to myself and my artist music
We got the hardest music, you so soft in your pillow bag
I go hard like a Brillo pad
You Mom said I was your Dad, I should be feeling bad
Cause I missed your whole childhood, and that’s really sad
She really mad that I don’t deal with your silly ass
I did pop ya Mom, but you was not mine
Naw, I’m ’bout to call Maury on the hot line
And get a DNA, cause you know what he’a say
(You are not) the father, damn right
These chicks you be screwing could ruin ya damn life
I got a whole lot of Sons,
But the only biological ones is with my damn wife
Wife is a gamble, so you better role the damn dice
The right type of way or you gotta price to pay
Aye, I stay wire, you already know
Higher then a helium balloon when you let it go
I drink a whole cup liquor, twist a whole dutch
Of that great haze, I call it a Fruit Roll Up
You know what, I’m too damn good
So I’mma blow up like tryna microwave a canned good
Ya man good, I spray mine
Since a kid, I was like Trayvon, walking in the damn hood
Now I spit new bars over old beats
My flow heat, I got a hot head not cold feet
I roll leaf, get higher then the bloody nose seats
You so sweet, from Monday to Sunday you so weak
I’m so street, I know you don’t want no beef
Cause when I put the caps in your grill, it ain’t gold teeth
I throw bullets like a QB, go deep
Cause when I blast rounds, it’ll be your last down
(Pratt, prattt, pratt), be the last sound
That you ever hear, blood will be squirting everywhere
You dead, your head’ll look like it was never there
Yeah, I’ll that tough talking’ll get you a shut coffin
Yup, me and your main slut fuck off and
I pick her up, and get my dick sucked, fuck talking
And I stopped wearing jewels, I don’t wanna shine
Cause even in the Summer time it be the fuck hawking
I’m still balling, 40 points and assists
I’ve been the shit, you ain’t about that life, you ain’t into this
Sit the bench, you can’t ball on the injured list
I’ll end you career for free to be generous
I’m not a feminist, I get more chicks then Ellen Degeneres
But this dick from with benefits
You been a bitch, nobody think you a thug
Cause you a made plenty scenes in ‘em skinny jeans
I’ll make you skinny dip in a pool of blood
When this Ruger slug, blow your ass to smithereens
And you said you fucked my girl, that’s bullshit
But me and my wife had a ménage with your bitch
Bul hit, then I came on the hard lips
Then sent her home, and you was kissing the whole lip
Let’s get shit straight, I had my dick in that bitch face
So you should let him know how my dick taste
Those corny bars you done set already
You already know I heard it on the radio in February
You had to wait 8 months to respond back
Nigga you ain’t ready for combat, your rhymes wack
Yea, I’m prolly on the molly and some Cognac
But I’mma make Rick Ross, rip up your contract
I’m too real, you ain’t never had true skills
I ain’t broke man, I’m still worth a few mill
You remind me of Sisqó from Dru Hill
Fuck how you feel, you got Lil Snupe killed
And you only ride out on two wheels
You a motorcycle nigga, I don’t like you nigga
I spit cooked crack, I put that on the Bible nigga
I pack guns, to Jackson like Michael nigga
And all your bars is recycled nigga,
I got a bunch rhymes, you say the same shit a bunch of times
And I know Rick Ross, the real Rick Ross
Shit your boss stole his name, got him pissed off
Cause he was really in the street knocking bricks off
Kilo after kilo, and yours was a C.O.
The last time we ran into each other
You was like, “Cass let’s do a song, you know you tha Hustla”
Yeah, I run my city like Broad street
Do you really wanna take it there, is you sure Meek
The next time, I’mma slaughter one of your beats
The streets gon’ be like, “Cass spazzed on the bul Meek”
Yeah, I keep rapping ’til the track stop
I spit crack rock, Meek don’t act shocked
I’mma a legend, you know what I did already
Everybody know I bodied you, and your crib already
I bodied you on every song that we ever made
Then I bodied you again when I put together RAID
This fight right here, is an easy win
Everybody ’bout to Tweet, “Cass bodied Meek again”
I know I’m getting underneath your skin
He prolly in his Phantom, having a temper tantrum
I’mma always have the fucking belt
I’mma body you, so you can ghost write for your fucking self
I don’t wanna hear nothing else
Yo, just go cut your dick off and go fuck your self