[Round 1: Yung Ill]
I’ma star, that’s my lane, dig it
Every bar that I slang wicked
Y’all waitin’ to see if he wanna party
Nigga, my gang kicked it as soon as Smack sent my stack and booked my plane ticket
I don’t know the word “play”
But I’m strapped without a strap
Many semi-automatic wordplay and my aim vicious
You confident in ya Arsonal until you run into a Hitman
Then me and Hitman in the same business
I give a fuck if you came with it, nigga, bang wit’ it
Cause tellin’ me you make it squirt just gon’ make it worse
And we gon’ see if them chimps you call “soldiers” think war fair when I gorilla warfare ate ya turf
Answer me this, when I’m blazin’ them shells who’s Saved By The Bell?
Them shots Screech and they get hearsed
You softer than Zack, but act like a K’ll burst
Get found by the Bayside laid in dirt
If you don’t have a vest for ya chest that fits like AC Slatter’s shirt
I keep the paramedics and police stressin’ when I squeeze weapons
Get a C-section, this how that .8’ll work
Get to bangin’ ’til yo’ intestines hangin’ like an umbilical cord
And we don’t know if it’s someone’s date of death or date of birth
I’ve seen every battle when DNA get murked
Coincidental, ya team still get excited for you
Meaning ya dick riders are grade A, D HD, they get hyper for you
Think you the shit ’til I’m in the shit with no baby wipes or diapers for you
Preachin’ four clips on this pulpit
Your sermons are bullshit
And to make it worse, Charlie Clips writes ’em for you
So all that rah-rah blah blah
Bye bye
When you through speakin’, you get no respect for recitin’
When Clips does the writin’ and Cortez does the proof readin’
Which means Clips does this {writes on his hand}
With his big ass
Then he hands yo’ book over
Cortez puts his world into ya pad
Ya verses are like the ugliest girl in the class cause they always gettin’ looked over
You got a team full of shook soldiers, my hood rose and we don’t play fair
I get to wiggin’, you get to weavin’, a lot of fake hair
The handle is I handle biz, you couldn’t handle the kid in a daycare
I would tell you, “Put your money where your mouth is” but it ain’t safe there
You’re the youngest nigga in URL, but ya mouth old
{Yung Ill whistles}
You can do that, with ya mouth closed
We had bets on whether or not you was gon’ come dirty
I won
And matter of fact I’m lookin’ for grub stacks
When you walked in…that sweatshirt did not match that skull cap
Now let me do a little freestyle since that’s what you like to do
I got a confession, we got a lil’ confession from somebody in ya crew
So don’t be surprised when it comes to round 2
And he go to the crowd like, “Y’all say a word and I need some participation from you.”
So say Verb ain’t welcome in the NY, well ask me “Why?”
He got a text and I sent ’em back, that’s somebody who told me from yo’ crew
Now you tell me was it a lie
Fly Fam’
[Round 1: DNA]
Smack must want you to die or get fuckin’ slayed
So I dug ya grave, the only thing left is to make the coffin
I got the long nose like Pippen but on the court I play like Jordan
In this battle he thought he could travel to New York wit’ Heat, ’til I get my guns sprayed often
Start hittin’ ya crew and have these bullets skip to the Lou’ like Rafer Alston
They say, “DNA’s unbelievable. He don’t touch guns or sell drugs.”
I said, “Nope. I just don’t get caught, that’s what you call a G.”
See I pay for the burner but the shootin’ it’s all for free
I run up Ill’s car in St. Louis, cock back, spark the 3
Shots to his tires and separate his rims like JaVale Mcghee
To take this battle, I spent minutes, hours, seconds, weekends, day’s stressed
Cause I killed Surf and you lost to Surf and you ’bout to experience the same death
I just went toe to toe with Big T and after that I ate Rex
And if I beat Dolarz and you lost to Dolarz (dollars) then how does this make sense (cents)?
See I didn’t want to take this battle
I’d rather take Hitman, Aye Verb or get Miles
I told Smack to set this shit up a year ago, and you just decided to take this shit now?
That’s cause you was duckin’ me, couldn’t fuck wit’ me
In the Lou’, in the D, I would’ve went there to see if Ill and his clique try to get wild
So basically wherever ya man at, I’ll compress him like a zip file
I caught Ill in the Lou’ with his niggas so I played cool like, “I’ma do shit a new way.”
Make sure my goons near so they’ll lose hair once I turn his block into doomsday
I shot his wig and Aye Verb’s perm, soon as I let me tool’s spray
So it’s ironic how one shot can make two pay (toupee)
Now if I don’t got the image to shoot guns then neither do you
You [?] in them skinny jeans, you got the image to sell mils
Let alone squirt chrome or burst domes, I’m tryin’ to help build
Cause do he got guns? Never, the doctor takin’ his blood pressure is the only time he held still (steel)
In the Lou’ he got disrespectful and had all type of mouth
So in person I’ma check you like a verified account
That just proves you pussy and you run your mouth liar
Plus I can see the bitch in you, so anything you made (maid) I doubt’s fire (Doubtfire)
Now niggas said, “DNA can’t outperform Ill”, I said, “Of course I can.”
I got lyrics my nigga, my freestyle is top notch plus I’m witty my nigga
On your worst day you only good with the wordplay
I put slime Monday through Thursday, I’ma do him the worst way
Smack why’d you set this up in the first place?
Really my nigga?
So let me ask y’all a question, “Smack who…” hell no that question’s too easy
I’ma really get rid of this nigga
Get on my phone, Twitter my niggas like it’s 12:25 and DNA’s killin’ this nigga
You squeeze the Glock? A G you not, you the opposite of 50 my nigga
You get shot tryin’ to play ‘Pac in my city my nigga
This is Life After Death and I’m Biggie my nigga
Smack set this match up to see who’s image is realer
Find out who really hold the steel and the trigger
So since Ill think he ill, it’s time for DNA to show Ill who’s really iller my nigga
Now Ill you only good wit’ the wordplay, yeah you sick wit’ the joint
But you like Lebron, yeah you got Heat but you small for it (forward)
That’s why it takes so long to get to the point
Now, for niggas sayin’ Ill’s ill I thought Ill had the greatest shit
Until I discovered that Ill ain’t really ill he just got an ill way of sayin’ shit
Like you told Rich Dolarz, “If you act up I’ll click and spray
And if you keep playin’ Mufasa that’ll get Simba slayed.”
Then he did his face like this like we ain’t get the line
No we got it, it just suck cause in The Lion King Simba didn’t die
Then he told Surf, “I’m a Ram’s fan that ain’t worth much
You better warn her (Warner), the way I curt (Kurt) stuff.”
In my mind I’m like, “I would’ve said I got the gun that’ll murk him.”
But when he said that line I was lookin’ out the window like, “What the fuck is he curt in’ (curtain)?”
So that just proves that you don’t shoot no heaters
Then he said in New York, “You don’t stand a real chance brother.”
Well nigga with rhymes like that you don’t either
It’s round 1 it’s gettin’ hot in here and y’all know my slogan
Wait for it, wait for it, okay Smack
(Get him the fuck outta here!)
[Round 2: Yung Ill]
I say this battle shit wrestlin’, and I’m just takin’ my time
But when them lights on, I’m a python, Jake The Snake in his prime
After my last battle, I had a couple of offers
I was thinkin’ about makin’ you wait in a line
But before I knew it, Smack was offerin’ me DNA like he didn’t think the baby was mine
And you was at that battle dick ridin’ me, PAUSE!
But goin’ wit’ the antics
Tell the truth, how they showed up 30 niggas deep, I showed up alone without the chrome and didn’t panic
You went to Detroit, on ya own, came back wit’ that sad song
Nigga can it
I’m a couple thousand miles away from home and feel at home like you don’t got the home field advantage
Fraud, you gon’ talk about guns this whole battle?
Homie, you been a clown
I’ma talk about guns this whole battle cause that’s what I’ve been around
I got two choppers that shoot for 60 seconds each, I let one pin him down
You from Grind Time, right?
So you should be used to these one minute rounds
I’m top five, who should be on e’ry list? Me
Battle Ill, that’s a gamble like every pick 3
Your last battle, you put in a lot of work but got the run around
So puttin’ Christopher Wallace’s shirt underground is the only way you can say you buried BIG tee (T)
And speakin’ of Big T, he let a whole lot of ends off
When he asked DNA, “How you gon’ be ugly AND soft?”
AND an NYB thuggin’ to be overworked AND bossed
AND a quarterback that never passed a quarter sack, you wouldn’t hand off a handoff
AND, you take pepperoni, get no cheese, the only doe (dough) you see is hand tossed
AND you talk about lettin’ cans off
Nigga you ’bout as dangerous as Luther Vandross singin’ ‘If This World Was Mine’ in a belly shirt with his pants off
AND you never had a fight in ya life, I will right jab and hook a nigga
AND my Queens niggas wonder how you a Queens nigga but you only seen with Brooklyn niggas?
I got a confession, in case y’all wonderin’ or guessin’
He roll with Brooklyn niggas so he can use my nigga Brooklyn Hanz (hands) for his protection
AND I know y’all wonderin’ why I keep sayin’ “and” to this lame actor
Cause he had my name in his mouth so much he fronted, it’s only right I say your name backwards
Say you gon’ put a knife or a TEC to me
That’s on my life, can’t a nigga bring death to me
Get an early escape to them pearly gates, see them flashin’ lights if you step to me
Use TECs and lasers like my next door neighbor
They stay next to me
I keep a .9 and a .45, I can buck at you
One always left and the other’s always right, like the customer
But y’all already know what I would do to this nigga
Pan fry noodle, nah, make Wonton soup of this nigga
I shoulda left you alone when Big T and T-Rex was through with this nigga
Y’all know the slogan! SMACK!
(WHO IS THIS NIGGA!!)
No, no, no, no, no
Not Smack, who is this nigga, I had some time to regroup
Wait for it, wait for it, now, Smack where is his tooth?
Y’all put a franchise player against a free agent
The commentators sayin’ “Ill nuts”
We both go broke, you fade away, I’m crossin’ over to get my bills up
Meanin’ I’m comin’ to New York wearin’ that 4, shootin’ that tre like [?] to get my bills up
Fly Fam’ nigga
[Round 2: DNA]
Ill, let’s talk about your career
How Hitman’s above you even though you beat him on Street Status and got the actual win
But yet and still that doesn’t make you ill cause you don’t get bigger battles than him
In ’09 you lost to Hollow in Fight Klub and swore it would never happen again
Then Aye Verb surpassed you and he created a classic with him
So that should make you second, cause you third string and you cool wit’ that?
Man, all your rappers is friends
So since your whole situation seems backwards
Then fuck it, I’ll use letters to go backwards again
Ill was tryin’ to front like P.A.C. and get away in that C.A.B
So I ran up on him and put C.A.P. in his P.A.C
Or I can catch him by the A.T.M. at the M.T.A. then I’ll A.I.M. and leave him M.I.A
Hitman’s ya nigga, that’s supposed to be ya D.O.G
Well tell him to show me respect or he’ll meet G.O.D
I shot Aye Verb in his L.E.G. now Ill think he ain’t well
But Verb good, he was just worried about his G.E.L
See y’all niggas in New York say Ill ill when y’all say he’s next
But y’all should know he can’t S.P.A.R. with my R.A.P.S
But for y’all that doubted me, I’m kill N.O.W. and go in
Cause as far as this battle, I W.O.N
Now Ill still don’t bag bitches, the only chick he love like Surf said is Aye Verb mother
It’s ironic ya name Marlon cause you always find ya way in (Wayan) Brothers
Ill’s the type to let 10 men touchdown in his end zone
And true stories is on True Story, he calls Goodz “a redbone”
Now there’s a rumor goin’ ’round, tell me is it true my friend
They say there is a gay battle rapper surfacin’, is it you my friend?
See Ill isn’t really ill, Ill is really fake
So I’ma paint a picture for all y’all that think Ill is straight (illustrate)
In ya last battle, last year when you battled Surf, yes Ill and Aye Verb, both those dudes
Paid a buck 60 for one bed with a flamingo in their hotel room
This is a true story, they slept on the same bed
Which means his head was by your legs
Your perm was by his head
His dick was by your knees, ya hands were by his feet
Cuddlin’, touchin’ each other
Smack, ain’t this some shit, these bitches were fuckin’ each other
Now Ill like men dressed in drag on the party scene
So when y’all see this bi winnin’ it’s nothin’ like Charlie Sheen
And he thinks it’s cool to be Lou’ with his fag friends
But it make sense, between Ill, Verb and Holla they only equal up to Two & A Half Men
But I’ma bring it back to a time when Jay-Z made ‘Feelin’ It’
Like the first time you got your brand new car at the dealership
Somebody snitched, so I’ma do it
Y’all give me a word so I can show you how real it is
And I’ma freestyle ’bout any word that anyone says and THAT’S what I’ma kill him with
This dude talkin’ crazy, Ill think he ill, I battle bitches and change hoes
But yesterday at the Proving Grounds you was wearin’ the same clothes
Now I get the gun and start grippin’ the TEC
Make your bitch give me head and throw it back like Mitchell & Ness
This dude actin’ crazy ’til I get the ratchet and grip the beam
I’m like Doug Mirabelli cause I’m the king in Queens
This dude actin’ crazy ’til I let that lead come clap first
And like Surf said I’ma leave him “redrum” backwards
This dude actin’ crazy now I’m shootin’ with the heat
I’m pretty he ugly this Beauty And The Beast
This dude actin’ crazy when I’m grillin’ him
I’ll clap the shit like Fabolous, now I’m killin’ him
This dude actin’ crazy when he grip the beams
He don’t got the ratchet and he a faggot, look at them skinny jeans
This dude wanna talk shit ’til I get a clip and spit it further
So like the Jay-Z song I’ma hit ‘Him & Her’
This dude wanna start shit, he’s like Aye Verb’s perm and them skinny jeans, they both garbage
This dude talkin’ crazy like he spark ’em
‘Til I let them shots fly to give him Dot Mobb no Harlem
It’s round two it’s gettin’ hot in here and a few words of my own
(Get him the fuck outta here!)
THIS NIGGA’S DEAD!
[Round 3: Yung Ill]
You get no respect in ya city
That’s why you started all these click clack turned spark rumors
Coward
Slow ya race car down, you can be Dale and wouldn’t earn heart (Earnhardt)
Me on the other hand, I click around .4’s
You gettin’ stretched, kickin’ down doors for my respect
When I bang Hecklers it’s a chain letter
Your whole squad gon’ get this message when I’m forwarding these texts (TECs)
And nigga I been workin’ nigga, you gon’ be trouble for who?
I’ve put in so much work, Smack, it’s only right, I’m the one they give the W to (W2)
But on another note, I met ya bitch at the airport, right before her plane was goin’ off
I put my number in her hand and told her hit me when she land
I guess she didn’t understand
She called me in the air like a coin toss
That mean I ain’t gotta try hard
To bag DNA’s bitch, she a gold diggin’ fly broad
I just use facial features, spit somethin’ in her ear
So gon’ give me that mouth, cause she knows (nose) that I (eye) ball
See I fuck her, you give your heart to her
Durin’ sex you’re the carpenter
Can’t get her wet, so all you nail is dry walls
But I saved the best for last, I hope y’all didn’t get the wrong impression
There’s a rumor goin’ ’round
Y’all know what time it is
Joning session
You see I told Surf, he look 18 goin’ on 30
But DNA just look 18 goin’ on…dirty
You look like you just did a 15 year bid and just got back from the slammer
Your mouth looks like…the back of a hammer
So I don’t wanna hear about the niggas you pull Glocks on
What you and ya block on
I bet $7 and .17 cents……you don’t have any socks on
I got dreams of gettin’ on, that’s why I’m goin’ off on
Y’all prolly think I’m goin’ strong, but really I’m goin’ soft on him
It’s time to drop down in my zone, you know, become a boss on him
For the next couple seconds I ain’t even gonna rap…I’ma just floss on him
{Yung Ill grabs some floss out of his pocket and starts flossing}
I bet you can’t do this
But I’m good cause my posse bad
You don’t ride, you hide, I tell my niggas, “go seek” they makin’ sure everybody’s tagged
Back strap around my waist, it ain’t Kung Fu Karate class
Be Miyagi fast or catch a body bag
Y’all wonder if he tellin’ the truth until the shotty blast
And then y’all can all see DNA lyin’ when he’s not available for a polygraph
Fly Fam’ nigga!
[Round 3: DNA]
Just what I expected, a bunch of tooth jokes
But it’s all cool, I knew y’all was gonna feel this
But I ain’t even gon’ punchline this round, I’ma spit some real shit
Like niggas keep lyin’ in their rhymes
What’s next? They gon’ say somebody got the plague?
In my last battle, T-Rex said my mom was retarded
In this battle, Ill prolly gon’ say my mama died from AIDS
But all this lyin’ and fabrication really got me in a rage
So that’s word to my mama’s mama, the next nigga that mention my mama gon’ find their mama in the grave
Now niggas sayin’ it’s unbelievable to believe that I be clappin’ guns or pitchin’ the dime
But that’s when I said let me pull these nigga’s cards and call this segment “Trivia Time”
Question: Tsu Surf, if you such a gangsta and you dump .9’s
Then how come you put your hands on ya hips after every punchline?
And if you say that you bangin’ on the block and be tuckin’ a Mag’
Then how come we ain’t fight durin’ our battle when I called you a Crab?
Big T said that Oun P’s brother smacked off my hat and I was fuckin’ laughin’
Cause that’s the same thing Arsonal did to Hitman and nothin’ happened
Shotgun Suge talked tough like he ready to fight a dude
Well why would he tell K-Shine he like to fightin’
He ain’t pop off when Shine’s niggas said he’d like to fight him too?
That just proves you wanna snipe a dude
I actually clap and smack dudes
So moral of the story is far as fightin’, well I will if I have to
Now back to Ill, Ill, you just say shit ill cause the shit’s cool
But fuck a metaphor, I’ma speak from the heart cause this shit’s true
So to prove to me that your real than Ill then what the fuck have you been through?
You never been hungry as hell on the block in the summer and had to sit on the stoup
Go hand to hand and gram to gram wit’ ya man just to get you some loot
Bitches tryin’ to set you up soon as you get in the Coupe
And a thousand niggas laughin’ at you cause you missin’ a tooth
You never freestyle live in the street and had the same heart as me
He ducked for a year and a half cause you ain’t want no parts of me
In this ring, I tore apart ligaments, arteries
You had eight battles I had 17, you don’t work hard as me
You trash, I don’t think this fag can beat me
You got Hollow and Calicoe out the gate, nigga you had it easy
I worked for mine on the steady grind
Been on tour with Erick Sermon and did songs with Ginuwine
You can say I got booed in Detroit and didn’t finish my rhyme scheme
But I accomplished more than all your URL niggas at 19
So let me speed it up, now I rapidly spit fluid
If you knew all I’d done then you’d actually feel stupid
Don’t be gettin’ mad at me, the cast of Grey’s Anatomy dig through him
I’ll kill him and after me and Dizaster can still do it
You from Missouri and nigga I’m from Killer Queens
Where I’ve seen bodies chopped and shipped to the Philippians
Niggas shot in the head and the remains turn to guillotine
The toughest situation you been in is fittin’ ya body in them skinny jeans
Now I done battled rappers that gangsta and battled rappers with jokes
Battled rappers on stages and battled rappers on boats
Battled rappers that’s wack and battled rappers that’s nice
Battled rappers that shoot and battled rappers that fight
Battled rappers that’s black and battled rappers that’s white
You do this part time pussy, battle rap is my life!
Now I got my point across, a’ight then
Hell know! What makes it worse is he’s light skin!
I wanna start to strike him like lightening and start to punch him like Tyson
You Street Fighter I’m Bison then I get precise then
Get the knife then, go across dislocate this guy’s chin
Fuck up ya waves and ya nice grin
And I bet you think I can fight then
I do this rap shit for hip hop and I do it for fun
And for all those that said I’m unbelievable
I just spit this whole last round without shootin’ a gun