Iron Solomon - Iron Solomon vs. Dizaster lyrics

[Round 1: Dizaster] What you gon' hear today Is the mother of all anti-Semitic hate raps This is revenge for all the dead children That fell victim from way back This here is for every single Arab sh**, even the Christians are gonna feel like they're getting their payback, once I rape your mother in the a** with no protection, bare back, wearing a Mel Gibson face mask You know what rhymes with bar mitzvah? Swastika Let's see where you're at, Iron Let's see if Solomon can handle this Today I'ma put you through some body building championships; you gon' get pushed to your max, Iron Straighten out your act here ‘Cause any hot headed sh** will get you laid out flat, Iron Today I'ma run laps around him 'Til he get exhausted and I tire Iron, like he had a flat tire ‘Cause he never had drive He just stood on the side and watched me pa** by him He's pa**ed his prime, so it's no use coming back fightin' The last time anyone gave a f** about Iron's mic is when we had Tyson, so if Iron make a comeback for one last time He gon' get smashed like him You've been p**y since Grizzle Mania, duckin' and divin' Always playing about being safe and survivin' I know you vanished away And take cover, so it ain't no surprisin' That once he takes cover there ain't no way I'ma find him ‘Cause Annie Frank used to guide him So I know she told you all the perfect places to hide in Yeah, Anne Frank… What a damn skank! Someone, pa** me my gas tank! I am Hitler, the real Heinrich Himmler Sieg heil to your wife and sister You've been on two lists your whole life… mine and Schindler's I asked you to battle me, the first time you said "no" The second time you said "no" If you would've flaked this time It would've been your third Reich in a row I said, I thought you would flake I'm honestly shocked you would take me Had me feeling like Pesci all day I started sweating thinking he didn't have the balls to face me But now that we here, Iron, I know who your father is You grew off of Little Mermaid royalties Since we were in third grade; you was always rich The reason you fell off is this It's the work ethic, you never have to work hard for sh** You never starved for sh** Everything you asked Daddy for you would always get See, you that fat guy that walked into the gym Got on a treadmill and jogged a bit, but you never stayed on it for long enough to even break no body sweat So now you're stuck in the same plateau You haven't evolved from since, but use your common sense You've been living off a false sense of accomplishment ‘Cause if you worked hard like all us did You would've not have quit, you probably'd thought a bit And realized, "Nah, I worked too hard for this I'm Iron Solomon, I'll go back and demolish 'em!" Where's your gladiator armor kit? Your heart of Spartacus? Your "I am Sparta" sh**? C'mon, dawg, you got this sh**! I'm giving you back all your confidence You soaking all this in, you know, I normally charge for this I'm just saying, you was a legend to all of us But when you're in the room your energy isn't really felt Try to yell out your bars to us Your vocal projection just never hits hard enough Like uhh... [*snaps fingers*] like a Math Hoffa punch But aren't you Jewish? Aren't you Jewish? You celebrated so many Hanukkah's that by now you supposed to have way more presence than all of us We used to call you a pioneer. You went from that to letting your b**h re-write your third round for Daylyt Wait a minute, you let your broad re-write all your hard work and tears? You take advice from someone else? Wait, y'all don't think that's weird? Honestly you can call it how you want to call it But to me all this sh** is clear Iron Man could never get the job done Without someone like Jarvis talking in his ear Makes sense you're Tony Starks though ‘Cause every time you get picked apart in a battle It's back to the lab to have your b**h walk around Holding up the pad, helping you charge up for a year That's why Tony Stark is never as solid as he appears You've always been in constant fear The Iron suit is just an outer part The center piece is hollow up in here Iron Man has had an artificial heart from the start of his career Now look where your life's at, n***a! See, you were fine 'til you tried Smack But you can't deny facts That if Iron himself had the type of endurance Then he might last, but he left too much of a wide gap Where he didn't focus on his rhyme craft So if you paid more attention in science cla**, you would know that iron becomes rusty when you let too much time pa** These bars I drop got knowledge in 'em, Darwinism Charles Dickens versus non-fiction DNA mama level autism Plus, your father scripted All of Oscar The Grouch's sh** for Sesame Street So now I know where you inherit all your garbage writtens Yeah, you fell off, you gotta admit it You should've moved to New Orleans and got an apartment to live in with a bunch of tsunami victims, so you can share stories all day about how you're washed up with them This is God gifted, I'm God gifted Watching me spit is like a game of Twister, ‘cause I can catch bodies back to back with my sk**s on the spot And that's why you got us all twisted I mean, you the best freestyler? Explain how Yo, back in the day, if you didn't recycle so much You wouldn't even have a name now And I'm gonna explain how, you know the, "You're behind on California time" you told The Saurus? That was the second time you recycled those same rounds Let's play a game of I Swear Now Say, "I swear on my newborn child I didn't use those lines in a battle with Okwerdz that never came out" Look at his face now! You look like you just got caught in a stupid lie You have a better chance of getting Sacha Cohen to show up here dressed up as Borat in a suit and tie ‘Cause that's the only way this crowd gonna get to see another Arab get played by a Jewish guy I'm trying to get y'all to see That he's the fakest freestyler that's on the scene But y'all don't see it, y'all just obsessed with these little pussies, like a bunch of Carter Deems He's a dead man walkin', he's almost in his coffin He's just caught in between He got one window to get outside of this box he's in I got him inside of a laundry machine And that's the irony in it ‘Cause even if Iron makes it out of it clean All it means is me and Iron still got to iron out some things We gon' get right down to the T Even if you don't like how it seems If he won't tell me what his true religion is, f** it I'ma find out when he gets [*punched*] right out of his jeans How was that for an ironing theme? Well, I got a different type of iron scheme I'll take an iron fist to Iron's cheek like an Iron Sheik And you better not dare fight me inside the ring I wish he would try me Even if I tried him he wouldn't try a thing Even if Iron was Tiger Woods you wouldn't see Iron swing But you'll probably rap about Math for three rounds If you do, then be prepared to throw hands with me now If you did, it would be like the Shazam app ‘Cause you would quickly catch a beat down I don't give a f** if you think I'm emotional, b**h If you acting tough like Andy Gump We can go outside and box over this sh** I'm about to hit him with the f**ing closer, ‘cause I don't care k** yourself, ‘cause even if you did People probably still won't care Take your Spring Fever CD Walk to a black hole, get lost in the middle of nowhere And don't forget to take Adam Sandler And all his gay a** movies with you when you go there! f*ggot [Round 1: Iron Solomon] Oh… f**. I made my own bed When I was dormant, I gave y'all a reason to snooze on me Tonight we putting that to rest Y'all still sleeping then you zombies What you'll see is a true homi That looks like lipo to you prob'ly ‘Cause he's gonna s** and I'ma get a new body This throne is my home, I came back for the upkeep With retard strength, all your battles are dumb weak This quack will be duck meat for flapping too much beak I'm doing my numbers on the web; duck feet If you f**ed The Saurus's mother forty some weeks Before The Saurus was born you couldn't compete If you wouldn't come East I'd come confront him in the West I'd throw hands across America Every f**ing punch connects You a one and done at best, I'm the one who done it best Big k**ers sleep in a guillotine, a cut above the rest I'm the recoil that'll leave your gun hand crushed True artist, I paint pictures with a drum and brush I'm the one man band that Questlove can't touch Serve food for thought, like The Roots front man's lunch Do You Want More?!!!??! Do you want more? Your half life starts once Organik flips the coin ‘Cause that's when things fall apart And this is just the tipping point for now, brother I'ma milk this, my style bu*ter The crowd love me, like a cow's utter in Calcutta The savior, the Christians praying to Jesus To Jews I am Moses, to Pagans I am they Zeus Walk the crowd like the holy ghost Strolling through the convent You can smell Jehovah's odor on me; I am godsent You will never see me lose to this old Lebaneser Scrooge They booked a d**h machine for you I suggest you think it through You'll get digested, eaten, chewed; you a recipe for food Step inside the lion's den, you don't get to leave the zoo A different pedigree than you That's why I would like to question: What did you bring to the game? What makes this guy some type of legend? Working 20 years on his precise refined impression Of Eminem's exact style from 1997? This Afghan a Stan, such a rabid fan. Your whole style is cut from someone else's cloth; you Dapper Dan With a master plan to spit some multi-syllable sh** To distract the fans while you spit some old silly bullsh** Get out the kiddie pool, Diz. You supposed to be an adult You keep getting old, but we don't see the results You're just a lost boy; Peter Pan Whose punchlines never land When D's in bad form he needs a hook to get a hand I mean, for real, what's this guy's problem? Tinkerbell is what I call him He got dusted and did some fairy sh** to keep the light on him "I want views like Fetty Wap to get the blind to see I only got to sock it to get to where I should be." Lash out and patch it up, nothing's cornier What you've become gave battles a stigma, Diz I'm disappointed at what my pupil's done In hindsight, the Bay watches you ha**le Hoffa for lime light And this guy's hype off of that surprise fight Like that's a prize fight Even though we know you only go to blows if it's staged right The irony, that these h*mophobe's fans support gay rights Had your people riding the benches, jump right into trenches You got some grimy intentions When you're inside of these lenses You see, to me, turning battles into fights is just senseless But cross the line, this battle will bare a striking resemblance I'm a wig splitter, I'm a ditch digger I'm a sh** kicker and I'm a bit bitter You a quick pitcher, I'm a big swinger Won't be the one running; I'm a pitch hitter Fans of Diz figure I get disfigured… fu*k YOU! THIS FINGER! If y'all keep it 100, then it'll be a 3-0; that's six figures But since homie's a clown I might throw my third round, ‘cause I want to sock ya So if I beat this p**y a** 2-1, it's not a shocker I will bow bow; Waka Flaka. Better call a doctor When I lick a shot in your noodle; penne alla vodka When I'm done kickin' your a** we gon' kick it at Bra** Rail There's a chick with a fat tail that be sendin' me fan mail The hoes aren't playin', see everybody knows our name ‘Cause I be tossing paper, like I'm trying to expose Arcane [Round 2: Dizaster] Alright, so, you brought up the Math fight, of course And I think it's awesome for you to reference And I think it's really awesome for you to mention No, honestly, bro, thanks for putting your two cents in Are you sure it's not too expensive? I know, for you being a Jew that's kind of a huge investment You f**ing chubby Chucky, southern country Humpty Dumpty looking… f**ing ugly, musty, dusty, Rose Teletubby Barney Rubble body double, Bubba Dudley cuddle buddy! You f**ing loser! This guy is like Allen Iverson, he could've been the G.O.A.T. but he f**ed up most of his chances. And that's the difference between the Kobe's and the Jordan's and Magic's The one's that stayed in the game And gave you more and more cla**ics And the ones that eventually fell off ‘Cause they almost thought they were too good to show up to court for their practice I know we appear like we're closely matched But our roads don't overlap When I kept on moving forward and pa**ed And you hit the fork in the road and went backwards We both started off as the total package And then you dipped to the lower bracket Came back below the average of the normal standards All it took was a little four-year absence And you became a former has-been, like Toni Braxton You put in all this work to record these albums That most fans in battle rap don't download no tracks from The other half don't notice you enough To even know you have one This must be what it feels like to be La Toya Jackson Plus, I got another question I been wantin' to ask him Do you rap while you're doing home gymnastics? Do you put your notepad down on your yoga mattress? And you perform your dances like your multisyllabics How you covert, you're graphic, so over-dramatic Like an HBO crime scene show reenactment Bro, you're a f*ggot! Doctor's done f**ed you up with a lot of medication, bro And you got no more sk** Can't get back to his normal self ‘Cause he don't even know how normal feel Quick, someone toss Jonah Hill another Soma pill So he can focus still ‘Cause he's looking real shaky on film, like Cloverfield But anyways, how's that studio going though? You recording still? Bro, you're ill Still working toward that recording deal? You'll make it… I know you will ‘Cause what you gon' do? Survive off your Fight Klub days? Nobody even remembers those older rounds The only thing we remember from Fight Club is "Yo, hold it down! Hold it down!" That's how annoying your f**ing host would sound Or who else remembers his battles from the Hall of Fame? When you went off the top with a dude with his top off Who remembers Iron Solomon versus Flamez? Yeah, he got the W, right? But him in that battle and the Holocaust were the same ‘Cause it wasn't no surprise to see a Jewish guy body in flames Burn and you get burned in the game Burn and I'll burn you with flames sh**, even Bernie Sanders has the word "burn" in his name Now you're in a dead zone where no one enters "Pop pop" goes the Heckler Go against me, your physical form dismembered You won't be able to use your legs or arms again, like Denzel Washington when he starred in the Bone Collector Your father built you an in house studio To record your records and get your stuff done But it's f**ed up ‘cause you can't have black people come over ‘cause "Son, we don't trust them." It's all awkward ‘cause every time He has black folks recording over And he comes into the room and confronts them, like "Haah, soo, Young Gunz… where do you know my son from?" All that matters when they view this back is who could rap So where are all my goons from Falucka at? In the streets letting bazooka's and Ruger's clap UZI's, MAC's with the new attachments I got Halo from the future gats Huger straps than the one's Duke Nukem has Boom boom, shoot your a**, Hadouken flash Boom boom; chalaka-boo your a**! I don't give a f**! Boom boom; North Korea nuclear blast I'll reduce you to ash with a nuke, and nuke and ash "What's that?", dude, that's Nash! You stupid a**! Yo, my resume is like a f**ing cemetery Full of piles of human stacked, ‘cause I done caught more overseas bodies than the Cuban raft If white boy got a 9, then he can get schooled with that Get it? ‘Cause we're from two different schools He a junior high school student, I'm a fully developed uni-grad I'm too advanced for you to grasp You Columbine poppin' 9's I'm a Virginia Tech going off on students campus Which means me and you are not in the same shooting cla** Plus my newest strap got a built in Mac computer that Keeps all of your vehicle movement's tracked, like an Uber app Can open up your location on Google Maps See you in the window and zoom in fast Shoot your a** through the gla** Spill your... ​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​[*Diz f**s up here*] I'm f**ing up I meant "Spill your medulla on the Isuzu dash" Then the people that are moving past will scream "Help! Someone just k**ed the fat kid from Superbad!" And I don't give a f** who you have Bring your goons for backup Then it's AngryFan movements; I'm only using caps I'll put you and all your fruity a** dogs together in the same bag, like a pack of Scooby Snacks And if you come back from the dead... I'ma put a giant round in the back of your head Like one of your stupid looking Jewish hats I'll body everything in the room moving, like I'm Supernat Leave me alone before I blow a fuse and snap Like a fuselage with a fuse attached You'll get your f**ing right socket removed and snatched Get your eyeball turned into a wounded gash And the next interview that you do with Vlad You'll be on the couch telling stories with one of your pupils patched; Slick Rick The Ruler's back! When I say "Turn up!", I mean turn up to the max… I mean turn him to a vegetable You seen that movie Expendables? Well, I'll put you in a cast just as huge as that. p**y! And you have pink eye! [Round 2: Iron Solomon] [*​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​Iron Solomon clapping*]​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ Good for you, Diz! You got Pat Stay's formula down, and your formula down I mean, you packed 60 seconds With enough bars for a four-minute round And you make it work It's this crazy blur of rhyming schemes and hateful words That you vomit out your mouth Like you're trying to feed a baby bird At some point you got a diss line from me or maybe Eurgh A crowd reaction distracts him He shouts "f*gGOT!" and a bunch of racial slurs Just hoeing and yapping when he's supposed to be rapping Acting like you got ovaries, and overreacting So we can just guess what's next From slug fest to gun threats. This chump went from throwing temper tantrums to throwing up sets Choked out Billy, now he feel he's a roughneck Been on 52 cards, got more attention from one deck Looking like a junky that don't have any d** left You either need to catch up on rest or have a blood test ‘Cause the effects of crack and coke Are what Dizaster don't consider You got deeper into some yay sh** than Amber Rose's fingers So if you see this addict twitching Like he can't control his temper It's been half a minute since he had a chance to post on twitter I'm just trying to diagnose all of this clown's symptoms Charron's autistic But you've got "I Want To Be Down"-syndrome The type of lost nerd who wants to be hip hop so bad just to fit in he got the Microsoft Word graffiti font tattooed on his skin And what's under that mountain of ink You need to talk about to a shrink But there's a lot smarter people in this crowd than you think We hear the contradictory sh** Out of your mouth when you speak How you call Pat Stay a racist Then call Dumbfoundead a chink Told Hoffa, "Stop eating fried chicken!", hardy har That's as funny as the n-word with a hard -ER So go on and recite all the bars if you like About the Holocaust one night Call me a "kike" and a bunch of sh** I'm sure Caustic would like (Thanks for the h**n, dawg!) It's a strong strategy, Diz, say it with audacity! Get loud! Talk rapidly! The crowd will all laugh at me But if that exposes the bigots, I'll take the fall happily You think racism is hip hop? You're buying the wrong rap CD's Under our skin we the same color Don't believe it then fight me! Do it! You'll see you're just like me When you get beat to the white meat Maybe Iron Sol' versus Iron Sheik is what all of you wanted Muhammad Ali versus Ali Muhammad Well, that worked pretty well I'ma make me some racist remarks now. Your peoples eat pita, you were raised to be making these soft rounds We ate matzah when we fled from Egypt, we went missin' Where the heat of the desert Where the stones were our best kitchen And our food's hard texture is stemmed from that existence What I'm saying is, going back generations we bred different Our religious text gave us ambition your clan's missin' 2000 years before m**ms our Bible was handwritten Y'all changed Abraham to Ibrahim And ran with that transcription The Torah is the O.G., the Quran is just fan fiction Boy, you done picked a bad Jew to attack You know how many MC's I ran through for a rack? Your integrity's out of wack Look around the room, faces from everywhere on the map Our bond is rap, you should honor that But every card he act like he's as serious as a heart attack But gotta lean on shock value to bring a body back This preacher testified just to keep you mesmerized You can't see through his disguise You need to reconnect your eyes I mean Jesus effing Christ, every freaking single rhyme Like a Lebaneser mime in Lethal Weapon 5 And in your egotistic mind you believe in every lie, so we may never get to see this style you beat to d**h just die Exposing D's deception gets him peeved in every line I'm making this p**y tight; this a kegel exercise See, people recognize this Dizaster character is not you You had a Halloween party where rappers battled in costume You made them stay in fake persona Instead of going off real life, so you won't have to be the only one who knows what that feels like See, he'll strike when he steps out of his lane and gets bold But you ain't really from the gutter, you're just playin' a role So please, spare us, spare us You ain't cooking coke, you ain't never seen the hood befo' You sweeter than a Tootsie Roll Wrapped up in some cookie dough Shoved inside a p**y hole of a virgin playing footsie toe Your Gjonaj battle is the only time you pushed an O And when you f**ed up that jelly fish line What Dizaster revealed up here, is what you mean to yell in your rhymes isn't actually real – it's clear See, I'm a man of war when I'm on a sting Your d**h's been sealed My line's lean up to a body, I tend to k** I flew here to get the mileage, you flew here to get demolished What they paid you pays your rent 'Bout to put my kid through college If you take away the hype, all the hate and spite. Just to lose to Mook they gave me twice what you got paid tonight Yo, my status may have fell But when our check's coming through You'll see that even when I take an L, I get double you Yeah, I went over with Lyt, but tonight I'll respect time; I said I'd k** you with three minutes, and we right at the deadline [Round 3: Dizaster] Yo! Now this guy… really has pink eye [*Iron Solomon tries to get into Dizaster's face exposing his pink eye*] Back off! ‘Cause I don't want to be in front you You fricking disgrace! You've already had it happen to you once Don't make me rub some more sh** in your face! Here comes the guy whose career died a long time ago In the year 3 King Of The Dot BC, 500 Grind Times ago Comes a guy from the biased coast Who's about to get all of his stripes revoked, like Spider Loc's See, you said in one of the lines you wrote That the doctor's prescribed you the same d** as Michael Okay, that means you use all kinds of dope Just so your mind can cope So know, if you had the chance to be the straw that broke the camel's back you would use it to sniff a line of coke Ever since Mook your career been on a declining slope It's like Gary Coleman's last episode alive That's a double meaning line: If you take the name of his show title and the way he died and combine them both Then you'd finally know why this is his final stroke Your f**ing music career is one big giant Heimlich choke You should've known with an album like Monster you would wind up broke. It's all in your bio Didn't see a single sell from it or multiply in growth Since your career was under the spotlight of the microscope What, do I gotta break it down in science course or somethin'? Iron divides into four different types of isotopes Which could explain why you spent half of your life on the shelf trying to blow, but Iron won't See, a lot of elements become radioactive After their half life, but Iron don't Which is why he's a normal Iran, I suppose ‘Cause all the deals they had for him on the table folded And they never got Iron closed Yeah, that's why you're hanging from a thread on life support You f**ing got beat down in front of Mook Until you couldn't fight no more Which makes you the worst type of who*e: the one that gets f**ed once and quits ‘cause her vagina's sore You should f**ing k** yourself Plus you violated as far as the guy code goes I provided you guided roads wherever your drive go I gave you the Geico quotes The greatest of all time; the Michael Jordan of this entire sport A satanic shrine logo; I am the G.O.A.T The Messiah, the eye of Horus The Ayatollah to your Diaspora, I am your righteous Lord I am your most high like a white boys Fico score I am like Michael Kors ‘cause I can catch a big bag And still have a lot of time in store Get it? A big bag and still have a lot of time in store? Yeeeeah! I'll hit you with a thousand lines, like a Miley Cyrus tour This is what Michael Moore would look like in his final form I know you gon' reference the five days in Egypt But trust me, this ain't that kind of war This is more like fighting Thor inside of a lightning storm I go psycho; Michael Myers with a knife inside of psych ward cycle flow Niacin, goodnight you, bro I'll put you to sleep in your own language; I'll Laila Tov you Yeah, this diet Rone is gonna die alone All it takes is one solid bar He's a washed up body, punchlines are like Dial soap Dynamo, you trying to fight a robot cyborg from Biocorps They'll find you inside your home beside your phone With your vital signs synchronized with the dial tone, BLEEEEP Who gives a f** if NY is a no-flying zone? I got Palestine inside my bones I'll hit you with a rock in your face from a couple kilometers away; that's what I call reaching a milestone You will die from my pen stroke, like d**h Note If it's written form we battle Freestyle, I'll son you off the top, like solar panels And I got more examples No matter how many menorah lamps you have You'll never hold a candle To the levels of pressure I was born to handle You know why? ‘Cause you don't have no souls or backbones Bro, you don't even know your past, bro Real Jews were Hebrews Black men who used to grow their afros You guys are just a bunch of random, phony, Polish a**holes Who forged your pa**ports, and don't have a land of your own so you come over and then jack yours But what is it all for? Is it drilling off shore? Is it the land, or do you want more? See, Arabs were peaceful, bro, you can come into my house I'd invite you in, take your keys to my car, the garage door I just want you to feel comfortable at home Since you're used to occupying households that are not yours I wasn't even supposed to be here today Organik was trying to get him and Hollow Da Don popping off They had an investor from his side ready to put up all the guap Made all the excuses at the end why it ended up falling off But the real reason we did not see it Because Solomon's people couldn't afford what Hollow cost I ain't anti-Semitic, knock it off! Before I go durka durka, allahu Akbar on him And start letting rockets off Dropping bombs and launching tomahawks I got a lot of fire bottled up, like a walking Molotov I'm a blacksmith; I'll put an Iron bar on the chopping block I don't give a f** if it's shalom shabbat or shabbat shalom I'll punch you in the face And leave your gla**es broken on the floor; mazel tov! You battled Mook on Smack and we watched you fall You let a mark a** brother outshine you Take your spot; you Pau Gasol And that's when you got on some bullsh** And you dropped the ball Now everyone knows you that one cat With a giant p**y in his lap, like Marley Marl It's the army of God Think the ending of every Inspector Gadget, ‘cause all you saw was me putting a metal arm to this cat's head, like Dr. Claw! I know a little bit of Krav Maga, f**in' put your— Twist your father into an arm bar And knock his f**ing yamaka off, f** it If me and Solomon brawl I'm knocking out anybody involved Boop Boppity Baow, stand over your head, like Alex star I'm off the hook with these hands, people calling me Kabal I move at light speeds like Vegeta Break my right knee off in your jaw f** a gun bar! I'm creative, I don't need one at all I'll swing a f**ing Pirates Of The Caribbean claw Cut you in half, looking like a seesaw Send the blade flying clean through the wall Watch it come out of the side of the street And k** five people that weren't even involved I'm like an evil Peter Parker that delivers people karma With a side order of beef kebab for starters f**ing with me is retarded Like asking Sweeney Todd to be your barber I'm an evil Tamil-tiger guerrilla fighter from Sri Lanka Followed you to your job and I'm camped outside of your job And I can't wait for you to leave the office, like Stephen Harper Yeah, you think you can relate to Canadians more than me? Hahaha! Bro, you are more p**y than a Weeknd concert Even the concept of you beating me here in Toronto Couldn't be more farther than the thought of Stevie Wonder being able to see his daughter I'll f**ing let the Glock sleep him Put him in an arm bar til he stops breathin' Like Eric Gardner when the cops beat him Pay attention, that's a double bar meaning I mean, either way you gon' die from arm squeezing And yeah, they hated us They hated us ever since the World Trade got hit And they blamed us with all this bullsh** But what the media don't say is this How many of your people didn't show up to work that day ‘cause they claimed they were sick? Or the Zionist banker who took out that insurance claim and then split? Explain to me this How a national tragic event could make your people rich Or how a bunch of cavemen in Afghanistan Could penetrate the world's most sophisticated defense?! And have these monolithic beams That are encased in cement, all cut at the precise angle you need a buildings foundation to slip? It's ‘cause you motherf**ers orchestrated the sh** And used the media as a tool to blame us swit, wit To blame us swit wit? Or blame us with? But it don't matter because you blamed the desert For taking those plane flights But it's clear as daylight that you staged that sh** And you only have one ball… I mean, it's all good, bro Don't be mad ‘cause the doctor slashed your wontons And you can't get a hard-on You can still be the champ of any track you hop on Even with half of your balls gone You could ask Lance Armstrong You could still be successful, it doesn't change at all Look, look, man, you can ask Tom Brady, dawg You can still make it in the game with a deflated ball I know, I know… I bet that little ball of his at night gets lonely Sitting in bed, he felt a trickle down his leg slowly Thought he pissed on himself, but turned out to be his right nut pouring out liquor for his dead homie He has one f**ing ball, he can't f** with me This is the path toward the end, so listen and pay attention ‘Cause all your people ever did was scrutinize us My people are true survivors And you used the media as a way to oppress us And generation after generation you try to euthanize us Then we turn into revolution fighters But what would you do if you was in a street seeing them k** women and execute their minors? Shooting a child in his back? How could you justify seeing a two year old with a tank on his back, like a scuba diver? T'foo ealaykun, t'foo! Who grew al-Qaeda? You grew al-Qaeda! You guys are fueling ISIS! This ain't no war on terrorism, this is a Zionist Jewish crisis A bunch of f**ing greedy bankers Who have no value for what human life is If you ever! If you ever see an arab group of snipers Just know that's from weapons that you provide us So we can k** each other And you can use it as an excuse to crucify us But not now, not now…I'ma flip out Bro, who defied us? Who divide us? What am I doing? I'm losing my mind, b**h Give me the sh**, I'm gonna fushalise this. I don't give a f** what I'm gonna do, ‘cause this dude's the nicest [*Put on a Hitler mustache and starting rapping in German*] Barbra Streisand..... lighter inside of a furnace....... Seth Rogan.... Adam Sandler... Shia Labeouf...... [*Spits like 8 bars in Lebanese*] [Round 3: Iron Soloman] So y'all wanna know the REAL reason that we had problems in Grind Time? It was-it was… ah… sh**... me too Might've been all in this guy's mind I mean, when I picture what was at stake and follow the timeline, D was only beefing because I was in my prime ‘Cause we had never met before They had rappers on every floor And you paid Kap Kallous to book my room next to yours Since you don't know the difference between Real life and a message board You trolled the hallway all day, postin' up on my bedroom door The whole weekend you followed me, no drama or static Then hopped on camera in your battle And you called me a f*ggot And I'll never forget this, with Pumpkinhead as my witness You ran right out of the ring and begged for forgiveness It was awkward and kind of just weird Offered to buy me a beer, talking right in my ear Apologizing for years about a line that Bashir took time to prepare that I didn't hear ‘Cause I wasn't watching your battle, because I didn't care! See, between love and hate, there's a thin line But for Diz, no disconnect. So everybody that Diz respects becomes someone he disrespects From the indirects to the blatant hate In your Twitter rants you discuss me But you're on my dick the second we're face to face Trying to give me dap – you disgust me With your rants and your ten page speeches Talking junk about Smack more than an N.A. meeting If you and URL's relationships something you can't repair You know what a real gangster would do?! Just not battle there What's wrong with King Of The Dot? Know what I'm saying? You hate the East Coast ‘cause we never gave you support We gave you hip hop culture, Diz, we gave you this sport The way that you walk Your dress code, the slang that you talk You from the "Fresh Coast"? Son, the word "fresh" came from New York You pull your iPhone out at all of your battles An awesome example Of how all of the raps that you spit you got from the Apple Y'all know that his note section is just a pad full of writtens So what, it's cool to do that now ‘cause Canibus did it? You such a hip hop purist How's that such a crutch you still rely on? We've seen Diz sell out in battles more than Melathion You call street rappers phony, but your gun bars be dialed out It's like you can't get a line out without a 9 now The principles even talking, we don't ever see him walking It's all theory, you don't really stand for sh** You Stephen Hawking It's so feeble, Flint Michigan tap water; your flow's lethal But only because the poison you fed 'em You misled your own people You're not a terrorist, you're a tourist, a gimmick Pointing your fingers at our flaws like a critic To hide your fraudulent image The real perpetrator's you, but you don't want to admit it You're like the coward that k**ed Cyrus And said "The Warriors did it!" Oh. You. f**ing. Hypocrite! You who*e for attention; you exhibitionist You preach, but you don't practice Give a speech and contradict the sh** You overdose with coke in the nose, emotional roller coaster You opportunist, you Brutus, Judas, you culture vulture! I hate you, but it's my fault, because I stepped out of this ring and turned my queen to my ex wifey And I prayed her new suitor would be a king who's just like me I walked away from this woman who was the love of my life And I can't stand that her new man just ain't f**ing her right See, when you was still trying to see through the bottom tier And the future of battle rap was not as clear, I was here Been a pioneer the entirety of my career I made this backpack sh** take off; I'm the Rocketeer I spelled out this path to give y'all some direction Put myself on the map, so you could follow the legend What I deserve I achieve with just a verse and a beat I didn't work for a fee, and what I earned wasn't free Went on a murdering spree, hit every curb in the street When it was 30 degrees I was still burning MC's In terms of this league My words and my schemes are the birds and the bees The s**m and the seeds, what emerged was this league So you're the MC you are Because you are birthed from my breed I didn't quit and come back, I took maternity leave I fathered your whole existence, Diz, you learned this from me You played the role of an heir you're unworthy to be You're not Solomon reborn You've been keeping my seat warm A disfigured version of me; that's how D formed And the Commodore and the Eli might seem like a lovely option, 'til you realize, in real life What it feels like without Nucky Thompson Let Diz, Pat and Mac scrap for seconds and thirds. Who gives a f** about runners up now that the best has returned?