Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones song by King of the Dot from Primary Album Massacre-4-blackout-edition. The music is composed and produced by Joel. Genre is Rap, Battle Rap music. The Record company is unknown. Released on May 19, 2018.
The video shared via: Youtube
Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones Meaning
[[Round 1: Chilla Jones] Aye this remind me of them summer nights on Blue Hill Avenue Cause y’all see me handle Krome now I’m up here snatchin’ jewels (Jews) It’s a wrap for you But before you can call me “wack”, bitch I’m the King Pen And for all three rounds I’ma show you why they call me that What up Iron Aaron? Now that I see that Iron here in I’m eyein’ Aaron Gunshots is what Iron hearin’, hit Iron earrin’ when iron airin’ I’ll point a gun down at his young child Do Iron heir in with Iron errands Soon as Iron nearin’ his head explode They need a bowl to put his eye and ear in Now I ain’t erring on the side of caution I ain’t a regular rapper boy, every bar cold (code) But maybe it’ll register after But amp him up, I’ll up the cater, serve his head on a platter like hors d’oeuvres since y’all wanna egg on a cracker Boy I’m a relevant factor I know they say what you planned on They pulled strings to get you took out, pussy, like a tampon I’m hands on You came for God then (Gordon) hey, word (Hayward) I told him, “Break a leg” from the jump Just hope his punches don’t land wrong My fans strong Of course I’ma sell tics (Celtics), nigga save the hate You think it’s rosier (Rozier) on this side? Well be Smart before they make a statement Cause Brown knows it’ll only cause more issues Then them K’s is wavin’, that Larkin sparkin’ You’ll be takin’ more shots in Boston than Jason Tatum But what he say is amazin’ He lyrically should shine, cause he’s a top tier writer with plenty of good lines But do your research, and any good enemy would find Iron ain’t touched an arm since Penny from Good Times Fuck them hood rhymes Actin’ like you sprayin’ a burner Summer Madness the only time you was facin’ a murder (Murda) When Mook was done witchu All they found was your glasses and a Skittles bag He owned holmes (homes) like the middle class, kicked his ass Nine or the deuce deuce, which to blast? Finally I said, “Fuck it”, let eight off (Adolf) and killed you (Jew) with the little stash And (Anne) Frank-ly, you’re obsessed with battlin’ Crips I think you need help Cuz I mean Daylyt, Magic, Nitty, Ars’, you even called out Surf to make yourself buzz I know why you target the Crips, even if nobody else does It’s biology, see Iron’s biggest job is to help Blood But you ain’t never been a thug, not a day in your life son Heard you had a couple side chicks, an Asian and white one And you ain’t never got tested? Well that wasn’t very bright son Or maybe you’re so obsessed with Crabs you figured you’d give your wife some But go ‘head, diss Shotgun for being a Crip You gon’ die being a brilliant writer The wrong line, then Suge’ll (sugar) rush you like candy that got your children hyper You only good with punches homie, you a resilient fighter But I catch you before your flight outta Boston with no steel beside ya So when y’all hear there was a shootin’ at the airport, and now Chilla gotta chill with lifers, don’t ask questions Just know that I’m the reason there’s metal in Logan like William Stryker Bitch I’m a striker! I swing fast, treat him like a speed bag It’s a wrap for him in the Middle East cause he jab (Hijab) with his weak ass Homie I’m back to my rap pinnacle, I’ll shoot his ass right on the couch; Vlad interview Bullets blast into you, quick and fast intervals So you choose, Brigham & Women’s or Mass General? A bad visual, get your right eye stuffed If you don’t want your fuckin’ shirt turned to tie dye run Cause this Eagle can give you wings, you gon’ fly high son Since your people live by the Desert you gon’ die by one You might’ve battled dudes who sound like me But you ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these Boss Town! , [Round 1: Iron Solomon] Y’all was fuckin’ with all of his Boston angles in his rounds? Black and white, no wonder he had to pander (panda) to the crowd But facts, this battle would’ve Never happened if Aye Verb hadn’t pulled out last minute like his daddy should’ve So you gettin’ my least potent punches I’m slap boxin’ him, took my watered down Rum leftovers and I’m back washin’ him You was my last option son I told Bishop, “Make sure my dough is straight. Put it on a plate Show me half the bread, you get an open face.” He said, “I respected champ. You got it and check the stamped.” I be getting bands (bans) in battle rap quick as a JeFFrey rant Fuck all the rumors Why I ain’t rematch Peter Morris sooner? Oh he’s mad he ain’t win the first time, you the sorest (The Saurus) loser That Greek? Food, I’ll feast at a different venue Somehow the Middle East pita (Peter) wasn’t on the menu Bro, when you feed the king, Organik, you have to serve it with more seasoning Not a baby who’s bitin’ my rounds like a teething ring Y’all matched the toddler, holdin’ a magic marker against a classic author With the Penny, a helpless little girl; Inspector Gadget’s daughter In Mass I’m a masked marauder, teaching the class in karma I’m sick and my fangs in farther than Amazon anacondas The lines that I land are sharper than cuts from a Spanish barber The last performer, from the days of the DAT recorders When Kane used to smash Madonna The sand, the water, the farmer who plants the seeds that expand the genre A man of honor, a monster A gangster, the banker and a robber Frank Sinatra could throw a fit together better than cranky toddlers So don’t step to me if what you kicks fugazi You seen I made Nitty look like a bird in them Blue Jays So if you ain’t in the mind frame to like pain, you don’t need the headache to go against my grain (migraine) And every battle you book, the same story retold Y’all might feel like he’s cold to me, C old, a one trick pony His schemes are at best, forced Ridin’ the style he on (stallion), until he beatin’ a dead horse You won a couple of races now a honkey’s in your way You can pen (pin) a tale (tail) and portray him as the donkey of the day But this jackass’s ego is swollen, it gets ahead of him This medicine gon’ help him reduce that swellin’ and I got the Epipen To prod your vein From now on, my name is John McCain A veteran with somethin’ lethal I need to get off my brain I paused the game but never lost my aim See C so low ratchet in the street it ain’t a walk of shame I honed those skills, I’m in the dojo still Where real recognize real so we don’t know no Chill So you gon’ fall from this status you ain’t seasoned to have Get raked across the yard, tonight he leaves in a bag Chilla your career was Sub Zero before you challenged me Moving down back, down forward now you facin’ your fatality , [Round 2: Chilla Jones] I said mic check one two, one two Iron’s these ain’t even ours You said somethin’ ’bout “Donkey Of The Day” Lighten up, you really think you can see C The God? See I spoke to you at Mass 1, before you came outta retirement You said you was a big fan and seein’ me was inspirin’ Said you wanna rap with ‘Lyt, scheme with Chilla Punch with the Bar God and and all types of shit But then you told me Myers was scared Now imagine hearin’ Danny ran (Rand) from Iron Fist but I’m legit The best writer, and the evidence is quite conclusive So when I take this round, you gon’ blame the crowd, don’t even try it stupid I make it clear, with a little back and forth like wiper fluid So when they score it they don’t gotta O.D. or lend (Len) Bias to it But you the one ballin’? Get it, one ballin’? Is y’all followin’? One ball, then y’all followin’ Then gun hit Iron lung, he’ll need an iron lung for oxygen Stomp his chin, kick my feet up on him like an ottoman Then funeral time put Solomon around solo men I gotta win, yeah this body gonna be shockin’ Electrocutioner, if it’s a problem this these four K’s gonna be the resolution Let’s get it clear, you haven’t grown It’s like you can’t stand evolution But every step you losin’, tryin’ to keep up with the direction like Dance Dance Revolution When your music failed, the culture kept you movin’ Let’s be honest here, you ain’t top tier or bottom tier, you’re a volunteer I’m glad y’all liked that, cause y’all also went crazy when you heard it versus Nitty in the boy round I just figured I’d take it from you, since you took it from Troy Brown Oh you didn’t think we would find it out? It’s too late to be quiet now But when I think about it, it kinda reminds me of the Holyfield/Tyson bout Cause he was overwhelmed with back to back punches and couldn’t grind it out So now for bitin’, baow, a piece of ear off in Iron mouth He tried to out and eat Clips for the same thing Like he never stole or bit nothin’ Who gave you this Fruit Stripes? I should leave a Big Red hand print on your shit cousin But try gettin’ me, and you’ll get hit with a Bazooka I’m talkin’ mid stride if I catch the kid runnin’ You gettin’ chewed cause I’m twice the rapper I just wish being double meant (mint) somethin’ I’m Extra amped, say the wrong thing, best recant Head shot, exposin’ a racist mind like a JeFFrey rant Nigga my style got flare on the low, Elvis Presley pants Spine shot, his legs wobble, got him doin’ the Elvis Presley dance But test me champ, shit I’m outside the corner store like, “Aye, what you doin’ on my block shorty?” See I’m old school so in case he case ’em (Casey Kasem) I give his Top 40 Imagine me catchin’ a bullet from Aaron, bitch I am not Jordy Nail son to the wall like, “Nigga what you got fore me?” Trey in the clutch with seven rings so either he get robbed or he (Horry) Tryin’ cause we jacked his foreign whip, but quit with the sob stories Nigga get lost, the arm make you flipped boss Hip toss, this Bad Boy from Brooklyn went to Cali and took a BIG loss Give you 30 out this Ill-matic, knock your limbs off Do you dirty, he’ll get shot in the kitchen like a Jimz blog I’m pissed off cause you came at E. Ness for bein’ 33 I mean ain’t you 33 now? Don’t you know where real rappers careers should be when they’re 33? Wow! When 50 Cent was 33, he made a hundred mil’ off of Vitamin Water Now Iron is 33 and he still can’t find a supporter When Ice Cube was 33, he was in three movies just to get shine When Kanye was 33 he went platinum, for the fifth time And Drake’s status as a legend, well that’s already fuckin’ clear And he won’t even be 33 for another couple years But in 33 AD, Jesus and Judas died So in his 33rd year, Iron gets crucified But between you and I, I know your birthday was April 10th And that’s an actual fact But ask Paul Pierce, being 34 in a Boston club can get you stabbed in the back! So, you might’ve battled dudes who sound like me But you ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these Boss Town! , [Round 2: Iron Solomon] Uhh, I’m 36 I’m 36, I shoulda pre-warned you After tonight, I’m gonna be up another three on you Yo, y’all believe that he rides strapped through Dot and supplies crack? You got to be keepin’ your pipe packed if you buy that This dandy lyin’ (dandelion) through his two lips (tulips), he don’t provide fact Everybody knows (nose) the truth gotta smell a lie lacks (lilacs) I don’t believe you peddle flower, if you snitch a soldier Get a whiff, something isn’t kosher, this pig got a different odor I get one scent (cent) of the coppers the shit is over Press the metal into your tongue like a penny loafer Now nobody’s buyin’ what Jerome Jones sells I got the trap buggin’ out like a roach motel I got the trap, Bug In/Out like a roach motel? See how I tricked you to bring this poison into your own home Chill? Last night at his crib I had his spouse on the couch But tonight I came to take Chill out in his house You wear the crown of this town, oh you the king on the throne? But your albums come out, not a single gets sold Nobody bought the Mass King’s (masking) tape, stick to your roll (role) But I’m off of this clown, let me talk to the crowd Say, “Boston!” (Boston!) No really holler it loud Say “Boston!” (Boston!) When they say, “Boston” they’re proud So why you gotta call it Boss Town and water it down? However hard that it sounds or everybody bein’ a boss in your town Just picture a bunch of Rick Ross’s walkin’ around Yo, what’s the meaning of being king if we all have the crown? What’s a boss with no workers to be bossin’ around? But in his mind he believe the shit That might be the reason that Writer’s Bloque is divided It’s called a “Crisis of Leadership” In your team full of Urkels, where they chief is a nerd Who needs help in his writing so they the geeks that he turns to It’s the tricks of the trademarks, like Conceited and her crew You’re cool to copy writtens (copy-written) if you got C in your circle Your clique’s weird Half a dozen odd balls around his sphere From this angle my G, our metrics say the Bloque is just six squares Well I’m Cube, I’ll write through everyone in this guy’s crew Anybody can fuckin’ get it I’m AIDS in ’92 So strap up, or I’m takin’ your lives and your wive’s too Two rings and it’s death do us part and that’s how I do And I got shots for everybody it’s a special occasion Even Rum went down easy without me havin’ to chase it First Day’ quit then Magic, y’all see the pattern after I face him Y’all catch what I’m sayin’, y’all see this game of Jenga I’m playin’? Turnin’ Writer’s Bloque into Whitey’s Block ain’t no rent that I’m raisin’ Til everybody a victim, this is gentrification! There goes the neighborhood Chilla It won’t stop, it’s like I resemble my own pops how I’ma chip off the old block (Bloque) Mr. Top Tier From The Proving Ground is the wrong moniker I’ll send you back to that class you belong in, I’m a hall monitor And all of my peers fire drills if you don’t get in line Everybody here raise an arm, it’s attendance time A test you shouldn’t cheat, I’m the professor take a seat Y’all mix a vegetable to eat, I’ve been a recipe for beef You a skeptic, what you think? You ain’t endin’ up deceased? BANG! Your brain’s hangin’ from the ceilin’ should help suspend your disbeliefs [Round 3: Chilla Jones] It’s like a movie, right? The Death Of King Solomon Now playin’, you diggin’ the plot? Good, cause your spot in the ground fakin’ As far as your crew? Well a DeVille pullin’ up with rounds blazin’ Long Sig (cig’) smokin’, soon as I spot a dog like a Dalmation I heard the foul statements “Verse Iron, the King Pen gon’ get his crown taken.” Clowns hatin’ Actin’ like they was forced to (foster) care like child placements And after Nitty, my slim chance got even triller, but don’t you hear the crowd shakin’ the foundation? Well if not, then keep sleepin’ Just know after shockin’ them you could wake up to somethin’ ground breakin’ But you know who was groundbreaking? Bender He was Canada’s King Pen And even though he’s gone from rap I wanna take a second and remind all of y’all why they called him that Y’all ready? I said I’ll make every single king retreat from war and seek his fortress Then storm the beach in Normandy with forces we deported I’ll sheath the sword and leave them corpses He ignored repeated warning, the Ouija board and demon sources See ’em formin’ like bees are swarmin’ If I hear he turned vegan I’ll feed him pork and leave a fork in Make him leave a portion of fetal organs with Puerto Rican orphans Thought he was formerly important Fuck his boring, weak performance Now you in enemy territory like a North Korean tourist You made an album and acted like we were the poor receivin’ fortune Take every chorus, re-record it cause it’s horribly distorted And all these horrid, cheap endorsements Sportin’ orthopedic Jordans, on the court with Peter Morris Gee of course you leave the sorest (The Saurus) Rest In Peace legend You probably wrote the most clean rounds ever But what you gon’ do? Diss me for my tweets? How clever See I’m a legend cause I’m the King Pen, who can put three rounds together better But you’re a legend because you’re the King Pen…of the freestyle era And we’ll never forget Spring Fever Were you high or stone cold? You think your album was a classic? You a liar with no soul But inquire what bro sold Mettleing with the music, even Alchemist couldn’t get Iron to go gold I’m so cold Bumpin’ Drake when [?] spittin’ Still got Avocado dippin’, flippin’ tables wit’ it If I hit Laugh-N-Stalk in his mustache, his face go wit’ it And if he try to Avenge your death, half of Marv’ll (Marvel) be gone, nigga they gon’ think Thanos did it Homie I’m wit’ it, turnin’ niggas to dust, you can’t picture that? Well with every line Jones got the time stones so I can bring your Vision back He tried to put Thor ax through my thorax, thinkin’ the shit’s a wrap But when it becomes time to disappear I’m quit to snap This is that that, Bruce Banner type of nigga, you know When it’s war he’s scared to bring that Hawk out Now ain’t it Strange cakin’ for Iron? See that’s the shit that make me walk out I could’ve did you like Hollow did Clips cause I got a lot of marketing and business shit to talk ’bout But that wouldn’t be fair Cause as soon as I mention brand expansion he gettin’ Chalked Out See I went all out with that Super Mario scheme And I showed the Toronto rap crowd, but for you? It’s more like Super Smash Brothers All I need is four bars to break the fax down First thing, is with a backpack, you look like Ness if you turned hat ’round Second, I heard about your early battles in Michigan You was fightin’ with The Glove gettin’ smacked ’round Speakin’ of Smack, you got taken off that platform and how did he respond? Well, by just gettin’ back now But since your character is damaged, I gotta knock you off at 100% and make you fade into the background And there’s a reason I ain’t on Smack now But it doesn’t matter who I blame, on any platform I do my thang I work hard and grew my name So the truth remains Solomon, I’m through with games You got 3 O’s in your name, I got 3 O’s to my name You just act brolic, nigga that’s all you do Ars’ punked you, Illmac pushed yo’ ass ‘cross the room We could’ve did this on Smack Volume 2 I would’ve open hand slapped you from the back and hear the smack volume too But there’s little room for just bars Yeah it’s clear that I’m on ghost I’m sorry like Air Jordan and Aaron will fly low It’s time me and ICE sharin’ a convo’, let’s discuss some thangs You my man, but in this ring I want the title, and ain’t nothin’ changed I’m tuckin’ A then I let it tag him, I ain’t runnin’ game Then it bang outta nowhere like “gimme my fuckin’ chain!” The King Pen of The Dot and that’s why you losin’ now Against Mr. Jump The Top Tier From The Proving Ground Boss Town [Round 3: Iron Solomon] I wanna be serious with y’all for a second… Chilla’s wife…got a wedding band, but she interpret that ring wrong And buzz my bell when she searchin’ for ding dong Open up, she either in a bikini top or naked With her butt out, it’s time for you to leave the conversation So your missus can whisper fantasies in my ear About her lack of a gag reflex, about how she makes spatulas disappear So I told love, “Let’s rope up. You can handle it, don’t be scared.” Then made her choke up so much she should get Champion Of The Year So I gave her the belt Translation the champs changin’, fuck the hand shakin’, ass kissin’ and campaignin’ Sometimes you gotta talk to these bitches I’m Man ‘Splanin’ And when y’all make a list of who the greatest is, make sure he makes the list Y’all heard his style, y’all know who the greatest is at makin’ lists If Chilla made the list of which kids were naughty and which were nice Santa wouldn’t check it twice, he’d just KNOW that shit was right Yo, God’s gift to scheming Are you serious (Serius) Jones? That style I killed Math with 10 years ago Remember back in high school when I smashed his chickadee? To cut, we used to cut class and visit me Had the chemistry, attractive physically Taught her sex ed and wood shop now Math is history Now if we tie in this tug of war, clash or not (knot) You learn the ropes from the lessons this slacker taught My rhyme book is the genesis of every page your pen writes This snake Eve-n got his knowledge from the Big Apple by takin’ a bite You know Genesis, Loso, the Lord took Adam’s rib and created his wife Stealin’ a piece of that body of mines is what gave this bitch life You disobeyed my advice, stole from the God and (garden) you payin’ the price For duplicating the A1, that was your plan, B? You had to copy Tecs for the respect you command C You know, copy texts is Command C Wait, wait, wait, does that not compute or (computer) you just can’t read? I’m sayin’ he ain’t an original type writer and that’s key If you ask me how he crafts his poorly thought out themes He’ll take my blueprints and use them to draft his drawn out schemes But with this clown, the shit sounds like a Slinky Cause even his best rounds get stretched out ’til it take the whole story a step down Hang on, hang on, hang on, y’all see the stair bars I’m railin’ on him wit’? I’m on a rise, your flight landed, there’s different levels to this shit You studied under my understudy, I’m your sensei’s sensei Shady, Hova, Jackson, Jordan, that’s Em/Jay, MJ and MJ God tier (tear) like when Christ wept, you’re seein’ Jesus’s pain I’m God tier (tear) like what you tell your daughter the reason it rains I’m God tier (tear) like me, sacrificing my only son You can’t redo what the Yoda done It’s Padawan versus Obi Wan The student versus the teacher The hopeful heir versus the ruler Chilla you truly are Martin Luther King Pen..Junior] |
FAQ
- Who is the person responsible for producing the lyrics of Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones?
This lirics prodiucer by Organik & Avi Rex.
- What is the name of the person who wrote this song? Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones
Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones song is written by Chilla Jones & Iron Solomon
- Who is the person responsible for featuring the lyrics of Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones?
Iron Solomon Vs Chilla Jones is credited as the featured artist on Chilla Jones & Iron Solomon