In regards to the meaning of this song:
Before a live performance on the EP Five Stories Falling, Geoff states “It’s about the last time I went to visit my grandmother in Columbus, and I saw that she was dying and it was the last time I was going to see her. It is about realizing how young you are, but how quickly you can go.”
That’s the thing about Geoff and his sublime poetry, you think it’s about one thing, but really it’s about something entirely different. But the lyrics are still universal and omnipresent, ubiquitous, even. So relatable. That’s one thing I love about this band. I also love their live performances, raw energy and Geoff’s beautiful, imperfectly perfect vocals. His voice soothes my aching soul.
What? You wannna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
What? You want to battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
I used to guzzle 40's, and own a beat up Caddy
Since the hood still love me, I'll turn the heat up daddy
I went from mackin' fly honies on the train
To straight relaxin' on a beach, countin' money gettin' brain
Soon as you rappers get a chance you wanna floss a lot
You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot
Then you in the club, stylin' with dough
Profilin' with hoes that we boned, a while ago
You rookies haven't done enough laps around the track
You had one hot single, but then your album sounds whack
Son you bore me with your war stories
You ain't even do that shit, so that's just more stories
How you expect us to take you seriously?
The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me
I'm blastin' your sons, I'm snatchin' your funds
You catch a royal ass-whoopin', you've been askin' for one
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What, what? We thorough to the end
Yo man, you know the drill
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What? You wanna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
Bitch, you don't even know, the half about me
I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me
I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser
I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya
I can visit any city, get respect in the street
While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets
I'll take a second to speak, I keep my weapon in reach
I ain't talkin' romance but you'll get swept off your feet
I keeps a ghetto chick, that loves to blast and she peddle shit
Groupies fake moves, I get her to settle shit
You can't compare to the status right here
Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here
Listen junior, I'm a tear back your wig
This ain't TV but I'll show you what a Fear Factor is
Stop grillin' me, and all that frontin' is killin' me
You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings G
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What, what? You wanna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
What, what?
We thorough to the end
Yo man
You know the drill
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
We thorough to the end
I'm bout to slap rappers around
You know the drill
We thorough to the end
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
You know the drill
Yo man, how much money you got?
What? You want to battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
I used to guzzle 40's, and own a beat up Caddy
Since the hood still love me, I'll turn the heat up daddy
I went from mackin' fly honies on the train
To straight relaxin' on a beach, countin' money gettin' brain
Soon as you rappers get a chance you wanna floss a lot
You buy a iced out watch because it cost a lot
Then you in the club, stylin' with dough
Profilin' with hoes that we boned, a while ago
You rookies haven't done enough laps around the track
You had one hot single, but then your album sounds whack
Son you bore me with your war stories
You ain't even do that shit, so that's just more stories
How you expect us to take you seriously?
The look in my eye punk, has got you scared of me
I'm blastin' your sons, I'm snatchin' your funds
You catch a royal ass-whoopin', you've been askin' for one
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What, what? We thorough to the end
Yo man, you know the drill
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What? You wanna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
Bitch, you don't even know, the half about me
I bring it straight to your chest, ask your staff about me
I'm just a little bit older, plus a whole lot wiser
I might advise ya, or I might pulverize ya
I can visit any city, get respect in the street
While you alone in your room, shook to death of the streets
I'll take a second to speak, I keep my weapon in reach
I ain't talkin' romance but you'll get swept off your feet
I keeps a ghetto chick, that loves to blast and she peddle shit
Groupies fake moves, I get her to settle shit
You can't compare to the status right here
Legendary worldwide, we can battle right here
Listen junior, I'm a tear back your wig
This ain't TV but I'll show you what a Fear Factor is
Stop grillin' me, and all that frontin' is killin' me
You leave me no choice but to hurt your feelings G
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
What, what? You wanna battle me?
Yo man, how much money you got?
What, what?
We thorough to the end
Yo man
You know the drill
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
We thorough to the end
I'm bout to slap rappers around
You know the drill
We thorough to the end
I'm bout to slap rappers around and bruise the game
You know the drill
Lyrics submitted by Retch
Battle Lyrics as written by Jermaine Baxter Samuel Barnes
Lyrics © CAK MUSIC PUBLISHING, INC, BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Royalty Network, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, NIKKI POO MUSIC, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd., Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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