Little background, Ugo real name is Emeka, he claims Houston but he really from Missouri City, and his rap name is Mecca Shogun.
I show guns to Mecca Shogun, bend him over no homo,
he turn into a big bytch he Rebecca Lobo,
I leave em
stretched when I
air em like the
MJ logo,
then I bounce with the stick, and it aint never pogo,
I been a pro though, ak with bipedals open, he would never know though,
is it Emeka or mecca? guess don't know,
no gun on me thats a no no,
flash like I snapped a photo,
strapped everywhere I roll thats a Go Pro,
in real life I'm in the man, in real life he got way too much time on his hands,
someone post about you you quick to writing a jam,
Ugo have a song up in 5 minutes damn,
its the middle of the day whats its like to stand around all day waiting for someone to name drop you?
it's 12 noon but that aint stop you,
I
aint playin so we trading Ima
GameStop you,
now the game stops too,
who better than Kush? who knows,
I gotta spell it out I follow where ever
U GO,
two toned leathers in ya city, pretty bytch wit me you could never get me, you probably rocking fools gold,
even my son better than you though,
and he aint even two though,
he only knows a couple words but I say "Ugo a bytch" he say "true though",
you
getting caught I'm pulling ya last card just
say uno,
King of similes, literally,
I aint talking his city when I be saying I leave him in
misery/Missouri,
creepin up with
mad arms like a
centipede,
fold his bytch in half she finally a
centerpiece,
chop her into little pieces tittys out in Tennesee,
p*ssy out in Mississippi,
fingers out in Killingly,
legs in a sewer drain below JF Kennedy,
arms found in a field before ya local little league,
now you got bytches everywhere, Ugo I aint never scared,
I'm at ya door while you liven there,
it aint no
biggie I could
kick in ya door,
clicking the four,
its either kiss my feet or you lickin the floor,
lets not make this black in white,
because I'm blacken right?
and white is wrong and black is right, right?,
well whatever
black is writing I'm
exposing like like a blacklight,
when the
mag light it aint a
flash light,
I'm the reason ya daughter is half white,
you ain't
hangin off top but you
still act tight, (stalactite)
those memories ain't real it's like a past life
ya man a stop
(manners stop) frontin so
why you even act nice,
you gotta lotta stans that sorta discourage me,
I
could already see the bag like
airpot security,
got a lots multis b but that shyt don't worry me,
cause I got em too and these punches they comin in flurries n,
all these rappers be scurrying hurrying outta the building I'm comin in they never expected the degree that Im sonnin him,
I'm lovin it, and thats that, all them whack raps, you ain't
seein me not even for a second this ain't
Snap Chat,
Eat these rappers man I need a bib, did I kill? plead the fifth,
You Jarded Fogle you wish you see the kid,
Let him live Kush, don't think I respect em,
Ima check em, It ain't
Hajj when I
bring it to Mecca
------------------------------
Ugo Ugugwa, do you not understand what I would do to ya?,
Yes Ima a CAC, well when this c-a-c air a(
see a ciara) tech, that shyt'll
ruin ya
future breh,
and I go stupid dumb, soon as I loop the drum, I
leave you
puffy like
loon n them,
soon as this battle begun I have already won its a wrap like aluminum,
why you rep Houston breh? I heard you really from Missouri City,
I heard the tourists come visit the florists cause out there the forest looks pretty,
you talking so gritty,
y r u makin fun of ya own African heritage?
and with that character image that you have created for laughing n shyt it's embarrassin, isn't it?
speaking of I know ya real name Emeka ain't that shyt Nigerian?,
Is that accent really fake or you fighting it when ya recitin ya lyrics when,
you spittin them bars you be spittin, you as hard as a kitten,
that glock isnt kicking, my jaw won't be splitting,
You probably really got scholarships and a free college tuition,
like, you speaking it still, I kill rappers speaking of skill,
This a end just like the Drake battle,(why?) a meek a(Emeka) get killed,
I'm keeping it real, the cacs been actin crazy in the news,
racist views, take a dudes life he barely even made a move,
so I could understand if you hate every cracker that you ever saw,
but to be honest I hate most of em too,and I am not them, and I never been dog
you actin hard like you blastin glocks,
You talking bout Houston but from the burbs you Travis Scott
Time to move on just fast that shyt forward,
you never stepped foot in the 3rd ward, never stepped foot in the fifth ward,
Houston producer of the year, my personal homie shootout to TrakkSounds, (
my homie Trakksound for winnin Houston producer of the year)
and shout out to Tony Dark(another dope Houston producer that's fam to me), both em holding the cac down,
I know more industry folk in the city than you do,
and boo hoo,
a cracker from massachusetts got more clout in Houston then you when he move through,
and ya music is doo doo, ya lyrics are pretty good, fukk is you doin?,
I'm comin for you and,
the hammer a peel (appeal) like a judge when he rulin, this shyt is a cold case,
you thinking I wouldn't pop suttin but I would and really I'm thinking I should hell,
better
calm ish down before I give you a
good L, (commish Goodell)
Roger that, its over for what you saying you get bucked,
don't make me I
fix ya voice ,I
oughtta tune yo ass up, (fix ya voice, autotune)
blast what? (blast what?) you blast nothin,
act up, yo ass frontin,
this round was crazy . Will give it a few more listen tomorrow before i cast my vote . Dope shyt all around 
