Illmaculate - Illmaculate vs Bigg K lyrics

[Round 1 – Bigg K] I did your man 9D real f**ing dirty That's why you set this up like this? You handpick your opponent? Pre-write all that tough guy sh**? And that's cool, but what happened to that footage out in Portland? Somebody cut my sh** Before the third round I told that whole room Him included, to s** my dick True story, I was in your city showing no respect In the crowd, spilling Henny, giving shoulder checks I would stretch your whole hood like a cobra neck Punch your f**ing face in half And headlock you 'til the bones connect This was your idea, I said as long as them bills right We hung out once or twice, b**h, I know we ain't real tight But how you ask to battle The Saurus, Ness Lee and 9DM You know what this feel like? You set up battles ‘cause you too p**y to tell people You don't like them in real life When you was in Scribble Jam I was in state boots and prison tans We both rap, but no wrap, I'm a different man Real rap, I'll lift Illmac through a ceiling fan And drop money on his grill, like a dental plan Let this f*ggot teeth bang on the concrete You're 5'1", I bet your feet hang out the car seat This right hand knock your a** from Oakland to Long Beach And you gon' make it to Smack When your nose and my palm meet Like, "Hey, hater!", showstopper, face breaker Throw a haymaker, wake up a day later With your cap peeled, Mac built like an 8th grader I will quick-slice your windpipe with a straight razor You act tough when you rap stuff, play gangster But you really p**y, that's fake heart; pacemaker You come from a nice crib in the 'burbs with a gay neighbour I was running through the fire and rain like James Taylor 'Caine slangers, chain yankers and gang bangers f** a vet, I'm in this spot for my rep; weight trainer And I ain't come here to out rap you, just disrespect So go ahead, spit that nerd sh** For all these nerds, so I can get my check [Round 1 – Illmaculate] That sh** was good, but what everybody's thinking is That outfit is flavorful and bright Right now, everybody's wondering How bumblebees are capable of flight I hope you take this personal ‘Cause when he's focused, he's incredible And we've all seen the worst in you When your emotions get the best of you To me this is a… walk in the park! To him, this is a walk in the plank For him, this is a shot in the dark But for me, this is a shot in the face! They ask me, "Where you been?" – staying polished Meanwhile, a lot have came and gone, I remained the hottest Deregulate the game; Reaganomics Take him hostage, breaking eggs, making omelettes Don't mistake us, pay me homage You comparing satin to Satan, angel cake to Pagan prophets! That's an ominous thought, my style is ungodly Now you have to ponder the quandary You got in boxing the combo of Ali and Rocky This is honestly a body, a homi, homie I'm small, but you tiny beside me I'm tall when I hop on the pile of bodies that I leave behind me You said I was top 5 on your account I was watching, I saw it, I was like, "Aww, he can count." The respect is mutual except when you alone With your thoughts in your house And all that salt in your mouth Calling the homie, "What was you talking about?" I was talking him up, he thought I was talking him down I was calling his number to see what he thought of this, now f** it! I'm mopping him up, hauling him out Calling his number on my list of bodies to count Instead of *click*, it's *CLICK* This the difference between calling you up and calling you out! One thing I don't wanna hear in this ring is "I'm f**ing up. Go ahead, man!" That's like showing up to a fight and right before you swing Being like, "I'm f**ing up. Go ahead, man!" I got a trick that might help you choke less, fam Imagine a strap on your temple like an old headband Soon as you forget your sh** then that chrome lead blam Would you show up to a shootout Forget the clip, and be like, "I'm f**ing up. Go ahead, man!" He's used to rapping locally, he does that sh** openly He's got some sh**, he's above average vocally But if you can't remember the raps you wrote for me Battle's over, please buy a ticket, leave the ring And watch from where the fan's supposed to be [Round 2 – Bigg K] Now, when you listen to him rap You'd think he on some Mafia, some wise guy sh** But you talk to him after the battle He talking 'bout the government and sci-fi sh** How he do research on his computer With like a turbo booster Wi-Fi chip And in his spare time, he sit up in Oregon and tie-dye sh** Yeah, you little f**ing weirdo Where'd the rest of your beard go? It looks like your feet shrink every time that your ears grow See, I could rap like that If I wanted to star in this queer show But let me get back to what the f** I was here for That gutter sh**, handgun with the rubber grip I'll lift your soul through the beam, like a mothership So who you f**in' with? Little man, s** a dick! You fragile, I'll break your sh** wearing oven mitts I keep a level-head in drama, you seem shook I'm bi-polar; nice jab, mean hook I'll lift his carca** up one hand like, "Team, look!" Then ride around with the body on top of the van; Teen Wolf! If he a animal, what do you call me? All it take is two shots, the gun is in arm reach A chrome MAK-90 up in your dog teeth This ill MAK ring twice; that's WRC's But I ain't giving you props, that's just a scheme that seem sick Broken doorbell; your two rings don't mean sh** I was running to the Booken, with a gun up in the hoody You can take them two rings and shove 'em in your p**y! I said, f** your track record, my sh** deeper than rap I'ma let you talk greasy For two more rounds, but leave it at that I wanna swing with a bat upside your cheek 'til it crack Your chin snap and the impact break a piece of your back I draw blood for the sport, like a Van Damme flick I'm on the road with these drums; band camp trip Some sh** in the trunk that'll make a Trans Am flip Hit this clown with a sweeper on some Sandman sh** I don't belong in battle rap, I'm in the streets with the crooks This is where you home, ‘cause you just as sweet as you look But as long as every time you gotta battle a black guy You keep getting shook; it's gon' be A motherf**er like me that's gon' keep getting booked [Round 2 – Illmaculate] I'ma use one of your slogans ‘Cause that last line, that sh**'s corny Losing to a black rapper, well, if that's his story I don't think he realizes he don't fit in that category It's rebu*tal time! Listen closely and hold me down! I made him cater to me, so what's your slogan now? I made him switch his whole style When he wrote these rounds I thought it was all bars, no personals… Yeah, act like you know me, clown! I'm tryin' to get through to pimpin' ‘Cause by the looks of him He's got issues with women like a swimsuit edition He's so forgetful with writtens I ain't got a line about this fool in prison ‘Cause at least there he can actually get through a sentence Listen, Pesci, you're unlikeable and you choke a lot That must make you URL's Loe then You must have been high on your debut But you were the URL's low then I bet the thought of me murking him, URL's loathin' But this a fight for your life So keep your eyes on the sights, like the URL's loadin' Y'all seen the trailer, right? They didn't put his face in, but the best part? You should thank them and their blessed hearts Between the eight chins and the stretch marks And the customized beard So it's clear where his face ends and his neck starts You want a Smack rapper? Here's what all of 'em would say: Could've called it with his name If this B.I. acting too G he'll get followed with the K I'll put him in a bag when I spray and hit whoever Then keep busting 'til there's nothing in the mag Like the pages stick together I see him, I start clapping in broad day like *claps* He sees me, he starts clapping the wrong way Like *claps backwards* I may not have a fortune, but at least I don't have a fourth chin Now, do you wanna battle for 'em or argue with fans some more on battle forums? That sh**'s corny You're here, but you're not that important I'm battling my last performance – and look! I ain't drunk, I still got a leg up on him, like Captain Morgan You said I was nerd rap, right? You said that Them lies you spreadin'; the Kalashnikov rinse him off Pyrotechnics fall from the sky and wet him Suppressors with extended clips Like I had a motherf**in' rifle fetish As far as knife collections, mine's impressive Bioweapons, a pair of Eagles That Glock 18 like a Barely Legal Trigger finger give him hypertension Equipment check, ballistic vest, you final-destined Our paths intersect, woo! Insert a violent reference Like, I got that Larkin for a bargain It's in the car ‘cause the pound's light I got that carbine with a beam when I'm targeting down sights I made a custom potato muzzle For that A.R. if a clown might hop that fence That Bullpup's got a quiet bark and a loud bite I can't wait 'til my fans hear them bars in the sound bite But I use that part of the round right Before you bring up Arsonal Figured you ought to know what a real arsenal sounds like! [Round 3 – Bigg K] We in two different lanes, that's something I found out quick ‘Cause you only aggressive when you rap You just a loud-mouth b**h You ain't tall enough to reach my chin If you threw a roundhouse kick You think all I got is gun bars, so how 'bout this? I will smack the sh** out of you, with both hands You a grown man the size of D.J. from Roseanne Maybe I'm real old-fashioned, but I don't feel yo' rappin' Who is Ill toe-taggin'? You tall as Bilbo Baggins I said, I be twistin' the cigar, that piff that's in the jar Thirty wishes, dirty dishes in the kitchen, whippin' hard When Illmac raps, I ain't listening at all I could throw him in the air and kick him 50 yards You a suburban f*ggot that rap and think he hard Like you get some type of street cred ‘Cause you caught a motherf**ing weed charge I will beat slob down your chest like a retard For three large, I'll send Mac to Steve Jobs If he ill, this HIV meets cancer I come to any league and work; I'm a freelancer I made your boy 9DM look like a Pink Panther I caught a body behind your back like a swing dancer I been to block, dump the Des' E and ride off Swing back through, the sh** sound like July 4th Hop out the whip, stomp his head 'til it slide off No tap dancing; I'm kicking Gregory Hines parts f** being at home, I want the best of the best I'm a true gunner from newcomers to the legends and vets That long Desert Eagle hit you dead in your chest That's how to k** a mockingbird – shoot Gregory pec This battle rap sh** is corny, I only do it for the paper If you say somebody nice, you a dickrider But if I say you wack, I'm a hater And this top tier ain't sh** based on sk**s This sh** is favor for a favor. I don't take you serious ‘Cause you not, now pay me for my labor! [Round 3 – Illmaculate] He did exactly what I thought he'd do Act like he's so damn hard Motherf**er, you look like Roseanne's husband Now, that's a Rosanne bar! This troop is in training, salute It ain't the music, the fame or the views Don't blame the rules of the game, you'll lose Use it to train, that's fuel for the flame that grew Review the tapes, do what I say to do And watch the moves that you make improve See K, I could step my game up While still doing the same for you Salute when you see me, tell 'em to let them horns blow This is my second coming, my forthcoming was foretold This is his corpse cold on the floor, blood on the wall Swinging a sword slow through the torso of his torn soul My hands reach out from the abyss Remove the ground under his kicks His soul lifts from the ground up and it drifts Into cloud, cover and mist; he shouts, clutchin' a fist But feels his mouth's covered in stitch He's now stuck in a glitch where sound doesn't exist He could see though that he's marked for d**h That revelation made him reload even though our bars reflect The scene with Neo and The Architect We are connected like DARPANet I'll fly a charter jet into your thought bubble and park directly In front of the verse you 'bout to start with next This is plastic army men to nuclear armament Every dollar spent on defense in the HAARP project Each bar: an armored mech, alarm detection Armed and set to target threats Each word: a sharpened edge, scar his flesh Carve it through his heart's contents 'til my heart's content Rewind it first, instead of threatening You're going to die in verses, I reverse it They're paying me not to k** you… let your mind interpret Soon as that contract was signed in cursive Your life was purchased! Rewind it further, before you lost this battle to a vet Before you seen Organik in the flesh Yelling "Rapper to my left!" I accepted this match up as a matter of respect So you should feel honored when I decapitate your neck Blood splashing on the steps In the cracks of the cement until the avenue is wet But wait… That's when you snap out of it Wake up drowning in a sweat Grabbing at your chest, gasping for a breath You look around you, but instead of a casket it's your bed And you realize we haven't battled yet This all happened in your head Just imagine what's gonna happen at the actual event!