No Competition II by Crock Taylor Lyrics
[Intro: Harvie Lite]
I don't know if this shit gon’ be first or last, but we back at it again
What's poppin'
’Sup yo, Crock
My son Char
Yea
It's Harvie Lite nigga
[Verse 1: Harvie Lite]
Like if you take a crock pot, that's full with ingredients, and you
Put it over charcoal, that's full with the minerals that could burn
Then you spark a little light, and then watch it blow and it blur
Then you gon' get the 3 of us, and what's cooking next I suppose
On a calm day, if we go hard, then it be storms, hails
Bombs, just all over this shit, then a strong smell
Crawling from something we killed, nigga
This is just a warning, this what you up against, nigga that's facts
I been on my shit, been in my feelings, been in my bag
Been on a mission, studied the greats, stayed in the back
Seen some wack niggas shining and most of it made me laugh
I know some underrated niggas, on all this shit, they will black
"And my stomach turning nigga, just feed me, I need somе souls
If you ain't gon’ do nothing, just watch it and let me go"
Man, I cannot let you out, ’causе them niggas cool, they my bros
"You're only competition is Crock, Char, and M.O?
Some of the best niggas rapping is most them niggas you know?"
Some of the best niggas rapping is most them niggas I know
But any other nigga, I swear we gon’ turn 'em ghost
"And we gon' turn 'em ghost"
[Verse 2: Crock Taylor]
I tried to tell ’em on P.O.P, when it come to
Competition, nigga we O.D, slowly
Killing all your lyrics lowkey, I be mad high while I'm doing it
Angel on my right shoulder, yelling "don't ruin 'em!"
Devil on my left, he trying to tell me "go through with it!"
A bunch of cold foolishness, this shit is so stupid, it's
No reason for me to even go there, it's no fair
But honestly, I been lowkey the whole year, fuck it
Ahhhhh yeaaaaa, it's like you know what's 'bout to happen
'Bout to smack your eye out, you like "ay ay captain!
This guy's not capping", that's right, I'll slap him
Out his mind, and have my guys wild loud, laughing
Yea, niggas dying, crying and shit 'cause your hat flew
Smack him in the streets, I could smack him up on the track too
My lyrics stick to the instrumental like tattoos, or track glue
Flip your wig when the rhythm attack you, it's natural
This the shit that'll fit 'em in shackles
Bars for you niggas, ain't trying to put the paws on you niggas
But if he play, Char press pause on you niggas
Soft niggas, mad 'cause we sauce niggas
Trash niggas, y'all niggas, wack niggas, all niggas
Obviously excluding us, 'cause you losers can't fool with us
On April 1st, or any day I put the pen to paper, work the
Track out, stretch the beat, so how you trying to flex with me?
How you trying to pull up and press a nigga that rep the streets?
Never a starter, have Harvie end it disrespectfully
I represent every borough, especially Queens
Nigga
[Verse 3: Char]
It's the man gone bad, throw the dough in the bag
Bitch I'm back spitting acid, on Save Allen ballads
Competition trash, so I race niggas backwards
Rhymes dumb potent like I laced 'em with crack, I
Ride for my guys and my gal, don't you ask me
Lay with a dime, like a pass straight from Magic
Double entendre, flows pragmatic
My foes get ravaged, from warlord tactics
Black Noran Radd, power cosmic with the strap, the
Style half lavish, I'm shopping at Saks Fifth
Killing in New York, ball out on a new court
Border abuse, I broke bones when I use force
Ain't never slipping, never tripping off a bitch
Catch me in the corner, being boring, sipping on some shit
Then my head get to spinning, 'til I'm back up in the mix
With the motherfucking juice, I'm like a fuckin narcissist
It's Jason Kidd with the features, I need 36 assists
It get cold in the winter, I need furs for the clique
Catch me sliding through the city, sipping syrup like the pimp
Bumping underground kings, now I'm walking with a limp
Hoe I'm rising out the ashes like a phoenix, What the fuck you niggas
Fiendin', Got that dopamine, needle for your feet flow
Rolling locomotive, keep it going, bitch the seats low
Supervillain, got the beat bouncing like a '64
Icicle flows, pack raps like Peter packed pickled peppers
Placed in a pink basket, in peachy weather
Purest form of a perfection, constantly in progression
Came to apply the pressure to niggas that need addressing
It's LoFi, be the gang squad, I'ma bang hard
Make the rhymes ring from Baghdad to Bangkok
To the bank top ranked, get blanked and shanked tryna play
Put the thang to your membrane, and bang it
I don't know if this shit gon’ be first or last, but we back at it again
What's poppin'
’Sup yo, Crock
My son Char
Yea
It's Harvie Lite nigga
[Verse 1: Harvie Lite]
Like if you take a crock pot, that's full with ingredients, and you
Put it over charcoal, that's full with the minerals that could burn
Then you spark a little light, and then watch it blow and it blur
Then you gon' get the 3 of us, and what's cooking next I suppose
On a calm day, if we go hard, then it be storms, hails
Bombs, just all over this shit, then a strong smell
Crawling from something we killed, nigga
This is just a warning, this what you up against, nigga that's facts
I been on my shit, been in my feelings, been in my bag
Been on a mission, studied the greats, stayed in the back
Seen some wack niggas shining and most of it made me laugh
I know some underrated niggas, on all this shit, they will black
"And my stomach turning nigga, just feed me, I need somе souls
If you ain't gon’ do nothing, just watch it and let me go"
Man, I cannot let you out, ’causе them niggas cool, they my bros
"You're only competition is Crock, Char, and M.O?
Some of the best niggas rapping is most them niggas you know?"
Some of the best niggas rapping is most them niggas I know
But any other nigga, I swear we gon’ turn 'em ghost
"And we gon' turn 'em ghost"
[Verse 2: Crock Taylor]
I tried to tell ’em on P.O.P, when it come to
Competition, nigga we O.D, slowly
Killing all your lyrics lowkey, I be mad high while I'm doing it
Angel on my right shoulder, yelling "don't ruin 'em!"
Devil on my left, he trying to tell me "go through with it!"
A bunch of cold foolishness, this shit is so stupid, it's
No reason for me to even go there, it's no fair
But honestly, I been lowkey the whole year, fuck it
Ahhhhh yeaaaaa, it's like you know what's 'bout to happen
'Bout to smack your eye out, you like "ay ay captain!
This guy's not capping", that's right, I'll slap him
Out his mind, and have my guys wild loud, laughing
Yea, niggas dying, crying and shit 'cause your hat flew
Smack him in the streets, I could smack him up on the track too
My lyrics stick to the instrumental like tattoos, or track glue
Flip your wig when the rhythm attack you, it's natural
This the shit that'll fit 'em in shackles
Bars for you niggas, ain't trying to put the paws on you niggas
But if he play, Char press pause on you niggas
Soft niggas, mad 'cause we sauce niggas
Trash niggas, y'all niggas, wack niggas, all niggas
Obviously excluding us, 'cause you losers can't fool with us
On April 1st, or any day I put the pen to paper, work the
Track out, stretch the beat, so how you trying to flex with me?
How you trying to pull up and press a nigga that rep the streets?
Never a starter, have Harvie end it disrespectfully
I represent every borough, especially Queens
Nigga
[Verse 3: Char]
It's the man gone bad, throw the dough in the bag
Bitch I'm back spitting acid, on Save Allen ballads
Competition trash, so I race niggas backwards
Rhymes dumb potent like I laced 'em with crack, I
Ride for my guys and my gal, don't you ask me
Lay with a dime, like a pass straight from Magic
Double entendre, flows pragmatic
My foes get ravaged, from warlord tactics
Black Noran Radd, power cosmic with the strap, the
Style half lavish, I'm shopping at Saks Fifth
Killing in New York, ball out on a new court
Border abuse, I broke bones when I use force
Ain't never slipping, never tripping off a bitch
Catch me in the corner, being boring, sipping on some shit
Then my head get to spinning, 'til I'm back up in the mix
With the motherfucking juice, I'm like a fuckin narcissist
It's Jason Kidd with the features, I need 36 assists
It get cold in the winter, I need furs for the clique
Catch me sliding through the city, sipping syrup like the pimp
Bumping underground kings, now I'm walking with a limp
Hoe I'm rising out the ashes like a phoenix, What the fuck you niggas
Fiendin', Got that dopamine, needle for your feet flow
Rolling locomotive, keep it going, bitch the seats low
Supervillain, got the beat bouncing like a '64
Icicle flows, pack raps like Peter packed pickled peppers
Placed in a pink basket, in peachy weather
Purest form of a perfection, constantly in progression
Came to apply the pressure to niggas that need addressing
It's LoFi, be the gang squad, I'ma bang hard
Make the rhymes ring from Baghdad to Bangkok
To the bank top ranked, get blanked and shanked tryna play
Put the thang to your membrane, and bang it