Got Beef - Rone vs. The Kid lyrics

[Round 1: The Kid] You have the face of bird (TIME!) I'm joking that was '60s angle when he first spoke to this guy So don't cry, I don't need any bird jokes to be fly I mean, what is this sh**? The battle of who's the skinniest white guy? You don't have a chance at that Yeah, sure, if either one of us tried to hold up that camera or arms would snap Most MC's go out for the win and try to leave you blown away Well if me and Rone go out in the wind we'll be blown away But as for that white guy sh** That's where we're dealing with a different sort of cat It's time little Roney started admitting it's a fact That he's just another little wigger wishing he was black Like if somebody says they're not gay over and over again, they're wanting the co*k So if Rone says he's proud he's white in every battle in He is obviously not I bet when he goes up to black dudes he tries so hard to fit in But starts backtracking before they know what he said "What's up my negros! I said 'My knee grows and my arm grows, so does my leg. That's what I meant." You're fake just to pretend and that's why you'll never get the crown But hold up that's some sh** I'm holding for the second round You should be embarra**ed to be back Last time you were f**ing terrible Now you're thinking you can beat me? When you tried to slam Dunk, you dribbled then missed the rim completely If you wanted that win dude you should've just come with better punches Yes I lost to him too but that was because of jealous judges I'll be making sure this one this one has a different end You might be dead funny but no one's ever robbing/Robin Williams again Now I gotta address his hatred for our country Rone f**ing hates Australia for real When he battled 360 he said, f** our koalas and our wallaby's, right? Wrong, f** your standards and policies, f** your amateur comedies f** the government you love and f** your land of dishonesty Us Aussies are polite, we're no one to sound blunt So welcome to Australia, go f** yourself c*nt [Round 1: Rone] This is the fourth battle I've f**ing had this week That's f**ing crazy y'all But since there's paper on, I ain't getting lazy dawg I work The Kid so hard before the lights upon the stage go off That Decoy might get arrested for f**ing breaking child labor laws See, I know you have some bars about my battle with Patrick I said that all as a joke, but you can understand this If you ain't get the humor involved you really on some f*g sh** You probably take more black dick than f**ing Frank Ocean and Sam Smith See, you're the type to have a s** change and then still turn dyke Then change his mind, get a fake dick and divorce his first wife Your body's so bird like that you get rolled like the turnpike And homie, I'm about as tolerant as the f**ing Third Reich See, I'm not a Nazi, but I live by a code like I'm Hammurabi And straight to my d**h like a kamikaze Disrespect me? Guarantee I gut him like Mahi Mahi I'll be snapping on him everywhere he goes like the paparazzi I can't believe you just said you're more skinny and white than me You're kidding me right? I'm skinny and white as skinny and white can be I'm so slight and white, so f**ing pale and frail They thought it was lime disease But I went to the doc and they said it's not it's just Skinny and White disease I mean, I don't even know how to explain it What I should really tell you buddy I'm so skinny and white my own skeleton is f**ing jealous of me But you're just a b**h artist, the way that you're regarded So, f**ing, size is the only way you can win by a slim margin See, your sh** is horsesh**, barely a bomb threat I'm chemical warfare, torch flares to rock flesh So that should set you up to the irony we got next Your rhymes are so simple, they give me a complex Your concepts are so basic, there's no f**ing twist, there's no wrinkle I mean, I don't even know how else to say it dawg Simply put; they're simple Bro, f**ing, the way that you rap, it's clear you're an amateur You could never use ProTools This little guy is a b**h inside I'll f**ing school him up like it's old school You'll get chicken fried with a biscuit side and I ain't talking soul food I'll whip The Kid's a** in his own country That means The Kid is getting home schooled [Round 2: The Kid] Yo I was told that Rone loves his horror movies He likes to watch them night and day Well The Kid's a little Hellraiser, so this won't be Child's Play Been trying to take my Candyman, I'll set the scene like Halloween Take a sword to this American Psycho just to hear him Scream But before he's dead and buried, I'll cut the b**h with a blade And come back 28 Days Later just to Spit On Your Grave But just like those horror movies your styles so fake You ain't rapping, you just rambling How people don't see through it, I'll never be understanding You have zero swag, your whole style needs revamping Well I got the doe for swag, I take it with me when I'm camping So don't believe what you hear just because this man said it Rone's a cross dressing dad, he's completely transparent Just cookie cutter rhymes they don't differ or change in every battle he's in He just spits it the same He'll f**ing start it off slow and begin when he rhyme The f**ing simplest sh** dawg, you just spit it in time He'll say "f**ing" a million times, he's forgetting his rhymes He's setting up a weak punch like he's mixing in wine How you survived in the game that your lines were crap You're at the height of your gain and you're declining it's fact You're never trying to change and all your writing is wack Because your f**ing style is the same every time that your rap! You can't win against The Kid, Rone let's face it I mean, instead of battling me you should've just gone to the bar Met a nice girl to take home in your car Get her knocked up with a bun in the oven Then every night give her nothing but loving 'Til she delivers that bundle of joy and you discover you've got a son it's a boy Watch him take his first steps, speak his first words be proud of that moment He frees his first turd Then wait 'til he's big and leaving his crib Just 'til he can speak and he's reading a bit Then BASH his head in 'til he bleeds on his bib Cause THAT'S the only way that you're beating The Kid [Round 2: Rone] So uh, I was supposed to battle Uno Lavos last week But he backed out so I got effed over Combine that with the fact that I missed Thanksgiving dawg Well...you're getting some leftovers Your mom's p**y doesn't queef, IT fu*kING BELCHES! She makes smiley faces above it Peanut bu*ter and Welches A bunch of tourist's fell in and now they stuck in there helpless Down with Keenan and Kel and Elvis and the 45 Celtics Your mom's p**y's so heavy she need a back brace! She pull them lips up and hop around like it's a motherf**ing sack race! That sh** smell like mayonnaise, it's nicknamed "The Man Cave" And trying to f** her is like dropping a coffee straw through the top of a lampshade You can tell by the way he's not grinning That he already thinks that he's winning He just wants to tell all these friends that he's won It's just part of the web that he's spinning Like how this nerdy guy looks 35, he's frail and his hair's thinning So you call yourself The Kid, man, who the f** are you kidding? You are softer than that bu*ter soaked lobster with my pasta dish You p**y, cookies, chocolate chips But that's to state the obvious I'm the champ like David Robinson coached by Gregg Popovich I will make Foley sock the b**h right outta Erin Brockovich I mean, it's almost like I mean, I don't know why you're looking at me you trying to get violent for I'm violent as a Viking lord swinging a giant sword You'll get dropped like a fat guy trying to ride a horse I'll put The Kid on two crutches and we can call that sh** "child support" It's like a 2-0 count how I'm swinging on The Kid But I scouted his box game when he was ripping at the gym Any hook, I try to throw it, he gon' slip it with the dips So I'm straight right at his stomach and I hit him in the chin And that combo, is on though, as soon as I'm rolling up He'll have molars and incisors out his mouth as he's throwing up He's looking at me astounded, I'm like, "Bro, you know what's up." If you're a Kid, well losing you teeth is just part of growing up But I love to hear you talk about the harm he'll bring Like he'll probably hit me in the head so hard it rings It's so cute, to see him think that he's the f**ing sparing king I guess you heard it before man, Kids Say The Darnest Things [Round 3: The Kid] With a nose that f**ing big I bet you can smell me from here f**ing smelling all sweat like a [?] peach But won't have to point your nose at my shoes to get the smell of defeat/de feet You've been smelling that for years choking on your lines as you stutter sh** you've taken more L's than a driving instructor Man you must be pissed that Daylyt got that title shot by crapping on the stage I mean, the dude's weird and why aren't you feared? When you've been sh** on stage for the last two years It's cause you ain't spitting fire, you ain't bringing any flame We're all thinking that you're lame, spitting lyrics is the same As every b**h up in the game And you must think that it's a shame that no one's giving you the fame The only Real Deal you're getting came with you on that plane Now just two years ago, it looked like his career had some promise But I hadn't even started, it was clear I was a novice You battled A-Cla**, DNA, going out and slaying cats I just started growing k**ing David Kinch and Maniac But after Okwerdz it got awkward You started to fall from your place Falling from grace, squeezing in too many battles and they all were a waste You lost to Nils m/ Skils I thought, "How is that honestly true?" But then you flopped at Don't Flop to Youthoracle too Meanwhile I was filling up my graveyard with the wickest flow Way too many corpses, eight wins in a row Which got me a battle with Conceited and probably made him very mad Cause that's a bigger opponent than little Rone has ever had Which brings us to this moment We're on the same stage But fast forward a year, we won't be on the same page We'll cross paths now and I'll keep rising while you're falling And you'll keep trying for that shine but we're still finding that you're boring And in a couple years I'll be loving the game Probably covered in chains living up in the fame While you'll be stuck in the same lane with nothing to gain (f** this microphone) 200 Miles From Philadelphia busing for change It would've worked a lot better if the coins would've come out of my pocket, but that's the sh**. f** you Rone. Time [Round 3: Rone] Bro, you are very weirdly confident I just don't understand it Like you're not some other sh**head idiot that's roaming around this planet I hate you optimistic a**holes A lot of you really s** It's like you don't realize that you're on the same Earth as us and we're entirely f**ed I mean this a**hole is so optimistic that at his last doctor visit They gave him a 1% chance of living and he was f**ing awesome with it I mean, he copped his engagement ring before he even started to talk to women And he spend his lottery winnings before he even bought a ticket I mean, you could come home to your house and find robbers around And you wouldn't even bother f**ing talking them down You have your hand around his shoulder as you're walking him out Cause you just a**ume the crooks are f**ing lost in your house I mean, you could find your girl getting f**ed in your own house, in your own basement You'd be all calm like, "Well there's probably a logical explanation" I mean, honestly dawg, I came to your spot And I'm really f**ing, going off dawg Like I'm in your city and they already got Phillies on the wall dawg But you know I have to k** you man with a couple f**ing rhymes If we ever heard your album it's nothing that we'd ever hurry up and buy You know what I'm saying? I mean, right now, I could calm down right before I get wild And if you wanna be a kid so bad, well, I'll have to talk to him like a child So you wanna hang out with the rest of us? And be one of the big rappers? You wanna become friends with us? Maybe gets some drinks after? Well maybe if you want the world to give you what you want You should try writing something (f**ing microphone) original for once I mean, The Kid can't f**ing see me That's a f**ing p**n film I put The Kid to sleep That's f**ing cookies and warm milk And if that sh** doesn't work like I thought that it might I'll put some rum in his water bottle and we can call it a night And if I hear crickets, well dawg I still won't lose The Kid will get k**ed from a head shot; that's Phillip Hughes That's time baby