Watch the battle here.
Between battling at BlackOut or in Cali, this could only be in one place.
So I’ma beam you up; I hope your son can read the updates.
I knew you’d get your second chance to meet with Jesus some way,
but you hadn’t crossed me yet, so why would I go east to son Day(Easter Sunday)?
The floodgates are open; better flee that ship.
Everyone I’m with(-)draw, like a rehab stint.
No cheap antics, just rap from me; that’s it.
Three rounds in your face, on some ski mask shit.
You ain’t never been served like this,
and I put every single word I spit on Irvine Crip.
Sight locked on my target; they brought y’all a marksman.
I’m perched up at Lee Harvey Oswald’s apartment.
They said I can’t punch with him, but if I knock off his jaw, then
he gon’ hear me break it in like the watchdog is barking.
I’ll shut Day’s clock off so it’s not so alarming,
when I stop Spawn from starting like I shot Todd McFarlane.
Fuck it; I’m in monster mode. Card shark; the water’s cold.
Wash and fold Day like I got the day off: office closed.
I’ve got it locked. Player one, let the cartridge load,
game on, I’ll catch thirty to life like the Contra code.
Try me. I’ll show up to son’s front porch, and
put rounds on the house like I just uncorked it.
My right’s so well-known I got a plus one for it,
to drop Lyt(light) all night. I don’t think son(sun)’s up for it.
Of course there’d be a chance he came with antics; Day’s an anarchist.
But if he did, then shit, I got one too. Get Day an ambulance.
He been dead since the day that Day was handed this.
Now, give Day a hand, and pay the data analyst
it’s gonna take for Day to handle this.
Half your battles, you’re the dopest rapper that I’ve seen.
The other half, you do shit that’s a cancer to the scene.
So keep that shit in mind next time you get all costumed up:
what Lyt does outside the West still reflects on all of us.
Personally, I believe no battle rapper is perfect. We all did some damage.
We all done put people in a situation where they get to cheer,
and some where y’all get to panic.
I done created so many people in my head, people may call it genius,
and some may say it’s what they call schizophrenic.
I’d like to sacrifice this first round just to talk to my antics.
I look all my fans in the eyes and say I’m sorry for the P. Diddy blog.
I’m sorry for the gay shit.
I’m sorry for losing the title shot; I’m sorry for the slave fit.
I’m sorry for walking out on Rone; that shit was bad for my damn health,
and to show y’all how sorry I am for the Loe Pesci battle,
I’m about to wipe ball sweat on my damn self.
But wait, y’all didn’t get the elbow.
I didn’t wipe ball sweat on my face ‘cause I had doubts to blow up.
I wiped ball sweat on my face ‘cause I’m about to go nuts.
I been living in a dope situation, and it’s not a crack house.
I’m back ‘cause I got to wig on these college kids;
start bucking inside their frat mouth.
The “keep it going” style was colder than Big Shirley, but surely,
niggas put their hands on the flow(floor) like they tried to tap out.
Pussy fight: let me see what these cats ‘bout.
It’s a campout: I’ll send him fire. It’ll be the same enemy as taking the bat route.
Think Bane: these mouth bars, they got to face it.
Fact, they Draked it. They sent us back to Back to the Basics,
but yet I’ll still fitting to Black(-)Out.
Why do they book gods versus these baby fruit flies?
And I get to burying maggots.
I’ll put him underground for free like Harriet traffic.
Get planted soon as they told you they would let us(lettuce) in the ring,
and soon to find out he married a cabbage.
What, y’all ain’t get it? I’ll leave his wife vegetable.
We set fire to any female carrying static.
That’s the price you got to pay for being the wife of an aryan faggot.
These words is stone like the Sumerian tablets.
I’ll put holmes in a hole, like damn, he a rabbit.
Fuck what you done. Give your crew tons(croutons);
leave them all vegetable. They can be a salad.
The land we abandon. Hand me a band and
I’ll go for the steal, like damn, he a bandit.
The best Day. You couldn’t rest Day if you hand me the sabbath.
You would(wood) handle me; if you can, be a cabinet.
Metal arms to his top: man see the Gadget.
I was the first on Earth saying(saiyan) shit like this.
Damn, he the raddest(Raditz).
The plan be the stratosphere in here with the—
You ‘bout to get everybody in your pod casted. I am a Dirt.
You’ll get hit with everything, from nines to fives. I am a work.
I’ll leave you neck-less(necklace); I’ll put my Life on that. I am Alert.
You can feel it in your chest, I got this body covered. I am a shirt.
Yo, Day, how come lately you’ve been lazier with your writing than ever?
I got something hot(-)headed your way. I am a temper.
You said, “I am a looper”, “I am a worm”, “I am the Bart”, “I am a render.”
Come on, man. You used to be way better than this. I am remember.
Pretend you’re a grown man; your word’s worth more than weight.
This ain’t a turf war with great, but I’ll turn Norman Bates.
I got a dozen extra rounds I’m too dirt poor to waste,
and got away with murder after the first four D ate(First 48).
That shit is so easy to do, I wrote this one round for you, dog.
The metal I bring to the table leaves you spun ‘round: that’s foosball.
This Kombat will chop cats; I’ll Kung Lao your roof off.
How can we trust Daylyt when son(sun) down to moon y’all?
Now, I got something cold in the chamber: cryogenically.
Agent K: I’ll flash on Day and wipe y’all’s memory.
I don’t need shine, so why the fuck is Lyt(light) on next to me?
What the fuck’s a Day got to a lifelong legacy?
Nothing. I’m getting gold, closing the loop.
Uppercut: skylight. Put a hole in your roof.
I was gonna talk about all of the accomplishments that you’ve blown playing hoops,
but I didn’t want this round to start getting emotional. Oops(Ooops).
Now you know that you can’t dodge your punishment and payback.
You want to blow someday? Well, Puffy can arrange that.
Your pen’s more shaky than the one that did your face tat.
I’ll catch a case over this like a Money in the Bank match.
At one point in time, niggas used to think the Earth was flat, until Columbus came.
Y’all let a mass murderer tell y’all anything, and y’all believe it.
In the end(Indian), he left everybody dead, cold blooded,
and that’s when the game got anemic,
‘cause the white sails(cells) went sky-high.
You folks left the glue coast(glucose), and I got to free these niggas.
First shot from the index, then blood spill;
whoever’s gonna die ‘a be these(diabetes) niggas,
thinking life too sweet.
The pencil insulin fight dude. I ain’t the type to(two) text a nigga.
Organik pack the card and I deads a nigga.
Everybody get chewed: Hannibal Lecter nigga.
I Do this write(Right) Thing: I’m Spike Lee;
Nike: every step, I got to check them niggas.
You come in testing(intestine) me, but I can’t stomach their lines.
I got a gut feeling I’m ‘bout to wreck them(rectum) niggas.
You gassed, trick(gastric). Fuck around and get bypassed if I pass you by.
They asked you try to be tier(tear), and you just end up being the last who cry.
My big homie say,
“fuck the money. Take every opportunity you get, ‘cause this life’ll pass you by.”
I’m from the era where you had to go nuts.
It ain’t matter how much cash you(cashew) got.
All men(almond) get snapped on. The deacon peeking (pecan),
but they’ll depict the killers.
In Watts, they was raising(raisin) nuts. Soon as I hopped on the trail, mixing niggas.
To get to the top action, we see niggas like TheSaurus, we not rapping.
We give them the best mouth beat in the world: Scott Jackson.
But I been wigging since a youngster, O.J. Mayo type.
Mayo white, but I black the Bayo type.
Fifty cents(50 Cent), we wave hands in his face: Tony Yayo night.
I prey your type. Harder to slash at you: Halo knife.
So many guns, nigga, this shit gon’ look like a Halo fight.
Think Day go light, I snap on these squares perfect; nigga, I’m Lego nice.
You wouldn’t get a piece of this small round with a Bagel Bite.
Day gon’ fight. Two shots, just body. The lower half, still there; the top half, real flat.
Before the shot, Pat Stay. After the shot, Illmac.
I’m back. I’m back. You feel the spine,
but before I go in, Malathion, time? (Time.)
That Solomon battle was weird.
I Remember the Time when you said you wanted to Make a Change,
and right then, the example was clear.
That match was reflective of Michael Jackson’s career:
nothing Black or White, just standing there
watching something so bad from The Man In the Mirror.
You think you bodied Iron, but listen. That’s something I’d like to revisit.
The irony is that your ego’s so easily bruised because Lyt’s really iron deficient.
But now Day thinks he’s gonna son me, like I am the infant?
I’ll take flight on Daylyt like sky is the limit.
In a minute, the game’s changing. I’m fitting to body: waist training.
Son(sun) facing the crack of don(dawn); now Day breaking.
I ain’t got to try hard. Yeah, I got some light(Lyt) bars,
but in one shift, I’ll punch into Day like a timecard.
Clock it. Try not to misuse your minutes, or this dude is finished.
Just stick to your gimmicks. Your fucking tattoo looks like shit, dude, admit it.
You are Spawn from the comics: you’ve got issues with Image.
I’m sick of all the extra shit, though. It’s sad ‘cause you’re way talented,
but the example that you set as a man? Well, I ain’t down with it.
Tell me, a decade from now, you gonna act like you ain’t proud of it
when you ask your son how he did on his SATs
and he says he antic’ed his way out of it?
I knew it was a risk, but this battle was me taking my own chances,
so when they ask why, I’ll say the same thing I told ‘ganik.
Day could be the best in the game if he goes back
to the way that he rapped before all the fame had him so famished.
Now he looks for any card he can play and he goes Gambit,
but he ain’t even notice his ace in the hole vanished.
Every match, you should show up in the same thing you rocked against Pat
when you went for the chain, ‘cause you’re a slave to your own antics.
Third round is when I let the heat blow fast.
Organik, you stop me time this time, I’ma beat yo ass.
We could’ve had a hardwood classic,
a throwback: old jersey, sure(Jersey Shore), but I don’t rock with Snooki.
This when I got to tuck the lead for these knuckleheads,
but I ain’t forgot the noogie.
A three-round barfest, yes, but this is when I got to stop the goodie,
‘cause when I look at your face, all I can remember is
when Locksmith said you look like a Chewbacca woodie.
You looked at me and said, “mmmm,” and did this awkward boogie.
But that’s back when you and Okwerdz was popping,
and the top of the hip hop was true.
The leaders of the backpackers,
telling the world a Smack rapper is what not to do.
I remember they followed you. I read my Locksmith comments,
like “this wack Smack rapper.” That shit left me with hurt pride,
knowing I was the only street rapper in G.T.,
and y’all labeled me one of the worst guys,
but yet the worst ride from first prize:
the same niggas who had multis now all rap about how they gon’ hurt guys.
Facts. I just seen a battle where Reverse Live said, “I’ma squirt nines.”
Had me like, “are you serious?” But that’s what your people do.
Y’all make the world hate us for something we do,
then y’all do it and make it look cool.
That’s when the plan unfold.
Prime example: Sir Mix-a-Lot video, “ew, Becky, look at her butt.”
Now every white bitch want to look like Amber Rose.
Nigga, we created everything, but y’all take it, and leave us demanding for respect.
Speaking of Amber Rose,
I would give you white bitches the finger, but(t), Organik cut my check.
I should go for the mark-out, but all they gon’ say is, “how come I’m testing you”.
This shit about to Okwerdz,
‘cause it’s fitting to be a one-rhyming, gun-lining punchline festival.
If it’s a party, hand me my grand baggy grab bag.
They told me Ron died, I was mad Caddy fast passed.
The hand scrammy blam blam, shoot his granddaddy grand dad,
two fives on side his face: naa nanny naa naa.
Lyrics transcribed in full, including slurs and offensive rhetoric in interest of accuracy. Language used and views expressed are those of the performers cited.
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