Lush One - Illmaculate vs Real Deal lyrics

[Round 1: Real Deal] Yo! Aight, what's up!? Y'all rock with me, Cali, or what? This battle should've happened years ago! Fans said, "Real Deal and Illmac? Let's go cla**ic!" But every time they tried to pitch it to him, Greg won't have it He acted like he's working on a real deal, putting together a demo package Tell the people the real deal; Real Deal never fit your demographic! Now, five years later, how'd I get so blackish? Payback's a motherf**er! Yours is retroactive! For years of trying to change your tune, so you ain't catch no static I'mma pour it on 'til Forest Lawn'll need another headstone added! I said, all them years I tried to battle him, he acted important as f** I figured I'd give it the college try Maybe kids in Oregon duck! Or maybe he wants that URL fanbase, so Lush booked him Hollow, Con', and Ars'- like that's the way he'll get linked But every time, he either got trashed, or got trashed and blamed the mixed drinks No matter how big the stage was, Greg would just shrink! When he crossed over, we saw the p**y, like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct! Now, the fans start to wonder, "What's wrong with Mac? When is he not prepared? I mean, these are huge opportunities, right!? He's gotta care!" Then, people put 2 and 2 together "Well, I guess against black people, he's probably scared.” Google “Portland, Oregon”. It's the whitest city in America! I know, shocker there! sh** is so white, their number-one hip-hop-selling artist is Phil Collins! Maybe I made that up, but the face of basketball in Portland is Bill Walton I heard when that Mike Brown sh** went down, and they was aware they k**ed him There was WEEKS of protesting in your streets…in support of Officer Darren Wilson! Now, these URL rappers only book Mac for the paper Your last battle with Clips looked like Mike Tyson's Punch-Out's Mac having a match with his trainer! We both expect opponents to perform at a level Our last battle, they both took a sh** on stage; yours was more disrespectful! Why do these Smack rappers treat you like some kind of herb? You be up there PASSIONATELY RAPPING…and they be trying to type they third! It's cringe-worthy to go back and see how hard you tried with Verb You even brought props like, “Look at me! I'm a nerd!” And all I thought was, “Simon Birch!” Y'all ‘member his Arsonal battle? Y'all ‘member his Arsonal sh**? He said, “I'mma have a drink while they pay for dude.” Then, he started rapping Fans was like, “What just happened with the pay-per-view? Is Illmaculate drunk!?” He said, “I only had one beer all day, then BOOM!” News flash! Effects of alcohol are based off body size! You'd get hammered off a tablespoon! sh** was like the Louganis story: we saw Greg take a dive…plus he has the HIV and he's queer! Man, little people everywhere would've rejoiced! It could've been your biggest win of the year! It would've been like when that house fell on the Wicked Witch, all the midgets would cheer! Instead, he's gotta go back to being the little man from drinking games that sits on the rim of your beer! That's funny, right!? Like when he battled Tony D overseas, and completely slept on him He said, “You're just a tour spot!”, a hotel for him and his friends and them Fast forward: Clips showed no respect for him Verb didn't even prep for him! Isn't it ironic when you see someone named Ill get a taste of his own medicine!? I said, I respect the stuff that he does lyrically But this motherf**er is weird to me! With him, everything's a inside job, cover-up, or government conspiracy Well, let's end this now! No one gives a f** about aliens in Roswell, New Mexico! Lee Harvey Oswald shot Kennedy! If not, well, just let it go! He's like, "Did you know the wars for oil on foreign soil, they send the profits to Texaco?" "Did you know Sandy Hook wasn't real? It was for guns-" Awesome! We get it, bro! Please, people, hold your money! Say "No!" if he asks you to hold a twenty 'Cause it'll feel like hours pa**ing Then he'll show you the towers crashing after he folds it funny I mean- holdonholdonholdon! They said three to five! Hold on! Damn! I mean, studying sh** like that makes you look extra lonely Why are you mad our government conspires? He conspires against his homies! He battled Ness Lee, Saurus, and 9D, like it's just for the sake of pen game You know, a sparring bout We barring out, an easy way to get paid To be curt, I think you're a snake! You aired their personal sh** to gain some headway I just gave y'all the tip! Now, let's see if his tiny a** can escape from L.A.! Let's go! [Round 1: Illmaculate] Yo, you're the reason this won't be a Fresh Coast cla**ic! You said this was payback? Motherf**er, this is only retroactive ‘cause your style takes us WAY BACK! You ain't a fire lyricist! Even Malathion was yelling, “TIME!” They ain't sleeping on you! We just tired of hearing it! When you get open-palm-snuffed, don't look awestruck When Solomon lost to Mook, he was hard up And had to pick the pieces of his broken heart up ‘Cause he calls himself “WHITE Rapper” and owns the part, but This the road of hard luck ‘cause I'm a real MC I should've overcharged Lush for what you stole from our cup! Just be a “rapper”, Real Step your flow and bars up Instead of always sitting white in the front of it like Rosa Parks' bus! DAAAAAAAMN, Trevor! In high school, you was a KLAAAAAAAN member! f** happened to you!? Now, you behind the cage door fighting Fedor You aspire to incite a race war And would probably trade your blackboard for a white dry-erase board! You ain't a big threat You're a quick check! I wrote this blowing sticky bomb like a Semtex You got a complex ‘cause you simplex You ain't completely wack, but you borderline, like vignettes Every scheme in battle rap, how you get stretched, get chin-checked I play the cards I was dealt, but you ain't a real deal! You a trick deck! Get this trick decked, you'll get slapped ‘til you see stars, like fish nets or shipwrecks Hold on, only time he in-depth when I lay him in the ground Only thing I'm sure of is your aura's faker than you sound Changing up your style based on an angle that you found That's why you call yourself “The Chef”: you always cater to the crowd! Like how, against Daylyt, he was in the ring, snappin' Sounding like Dot Mob's team captain Things clappin', gun bars for reaction Then he asked them, “It's cool if I do this whole bar thing, right?” MOTHERfu*kER, YOU MEAN RAPPIN'!? His every angle is played What you're getting is just an illusion His image, tailor-made, just trying to fit in to something that suits him That's the difference: I'm at home in the ring, you just coming through to chill Children of the Corn: you been warned how I'm running through the field! You are so unnatural Bars canceled out by how uncomfortable you feel You should've never left the cla**room, ‘cause ain't no substitute for Real! For real, I spin a, light two bars Trying to figure the type of guy you are How I go from two opponents that ain't try, to one opponent that tries too hard!? Rhetorical with the statement Your formula is basic You play the white card, it's unfortunately racist Then do the bar thing, horrible in the same sense Fake sh**, having your own style ain't affordable, so you take it Shape-shift, forcing it when you say sh** You a different person every time we see you, like the Oracle in The Matrix! fu*k THE BULLsh*t! I'm acting ignorant every verse My sh** piff, ‘cause I trim it and sell it like herb Spitting and selling this merch f** a gimmick, sh**…fans made that sh** acceptable first An image that never occurs ‘Cause real fans respect real sh** and listen to every word Get it straight! f** an angle! I been ahead of the curve So, whose dick I gotta have Daylyt s** to finally get the respect I deserve!? [Round 2: Real Deal] Good sh**! Okay, f** it! Let's f**ing talk race, then… So, y'all know Mac as being a lyricist? Cool! I know this kid is being a s**er! Shady, back-stabbing, arrogant, ignorant little f**er! Like, for years, he been trying to have people guess what race he is Is he Mexan? Cubican? Dominican? What is it, Other? Whole time he was trying to hide the fact he's got a little Indian in the cupboard! But hey, it's all good! I mean, your name is Gregory Poe, and you're Indian! They'd have been a fan of your battles! Gregory Poe? What's that mean in your native tongue? “Man of Short Stature” Listen, Sitting Bull! You showed up to a gun fight with a satchel full of arrows Your canoe's in sh**'s creek THIS DEEP without a paddle you can spare, though! fu*k YOUR WHISKEY, Chief! Catch me off that Vladimir and Cuervo Bear arms, but down to swing at anything like Vladimir Guerrero! He gon' see some angels, but he gon' meet Diablo first California: keep off the gra** or get your little lawn gnome murked! Listen, Tonto! You better hope your Hattori Hanzo works Or I'mma helicopter your little a** like one of Petey Pablo's shirts! Aye, “Damn, Trevor! I'm a Klan member!” b**h, my whole life I lived in the hood! And my favorite book growing up was The Little Injun that Could! I said, you need to take it easy Your whole sh**'s already an endangered species I do the Natives greasy Smallpox laced in your baby's beanies Me and my child? sh**! We on some child sh**! We'll TP you and your neighbor's teepee! I will break your jaw quick as Europeans can break a treaty! And judging by your f**ed-up grill, you can already use some fake veneers You look like the guy in your tribe they took a wooden log to to make a spear I will show up in Portland, dressed in nothing but Blazers gear And turn the Oregon Trail into the f**ing Trail of Tears! Y'ALL FEEL THAT!? WHEN REAL RAPS, it's like the deal's back The floor shakes: this where your hero dies I'll give your spirit guide a sprit guide Your next tour date's the Lord's Gates That steel clap at your steel trap Real rap, that floor bangs I'll put your headdress on your headrest, and peel back your war paint! So, tell your medicine man he gon' need fruit flies, a newt's eye, and the skin of a live rattler f** Hattori Hanzo! My sh** is from Highlander! It'll cut through you and an innocent bystander! I pull that motherf**er out, show him how sharp the blade is, then Turn his f**ing head to a South Park Canadian's! I said, let me catch this p**y hanging out the whip, like that one pic of Britney When I give Mac the knife, it ain't some hit from the ‘50s You dig me? I beat the dog sh** out you without weapons, but if I do, I know I'm wrong ‘Cause you little, homie You one of them little homies that…you put one of your little homies on! Like, y'all remember I told Cortez my son would whoop his son's a**? Well, you about the size of somebody in my son's cla**! He knows who you are, Mac! And he's no fan, though! He said, far as battle rap, you full of sh** like that article that Nocan wrote He said, “Dad, if he get nuts, he get kicked like roshambo!” I put junior on him in the ring like Dos Santos! ‘Cause you soft as Bounty Your crew sweet as a chocolate brownie Heard he was on suicide watch the one night he was locked in county My whole team down to throw them arms: check the squad around me b**h, even my broad get rowdy like Ronda Rousey! You see, buddy's an elf, so y'all made me son him like James Caan I was raised in the pit: yeah, the same sh** that Bangs on I will pull back, gorilla-pimp, Shaq-sized facepalm I'll show up in St. Johns, and put blood in your mouth like a Game song! [Round 2: Illmaculate] Yeah, I'm Native, and this is a sacred burial site for you You were frustrated you didn't know my race, ‘cause you couldn't figure out which ignorant stereotype to use! So he's like, “What's your tribal name?”, but that scheme's f**ing lame Don't worry about it As far as your b**h is concerned, it's “Chief Running Game!” I spit raw white: you're on the wrong side of these bars Right cross, ‘cause you don't come across right, like your song right in the R's Pomeranian to a Rottweiler: a dog fight in the yard Get your jaw wired on sight, then get hog-tied in the car Your whole look says you lived a calm life on the farm Which is perfect, ‘cause you're an easy target like the broad side of a barn! I'm a dirty fighter: Kurdish striker Tell this cat if he swing, you'll get taxed in the ring: Irwin Schyster If you're a hit, man, I'm the first survivor Returning fire quicker than a Secret Service sniper Rifle recoil like a nervous viper Brain splatter, grey matter hurling skyward, burst in geysers And leave nothing in your head like you weren't inspired! You wouldn't know bars, if you served with lifers, a term at Riker's Any deal that gives Real Deal a real deal putting on scrubs, like nurse attire! Even your boys think you're wack! Keep your circle tighter! In fact, we all do: just don't know how to say it like “Worcestershire” You wouldn't blow with a factory of fertilizer But what's a bomb vers' MacGyver? I'll purge his wires and reverse the timer You wouldn't hurt a fly, or murk a spider If you're a star, I'm Ursa Minor You earn his stripes, but I'm the circus tiger biting through the burning tire! Working man's MC!? Who'd give him work for hire? I Solomon-ly swear you're a biter! All this Pittsburgh stealer does is repackage works of Iron! Shut up! I bet this lame tricks his Grade 6 students to ghostwrite, like, “Pop Quiz! Today, kids: Name flips!” I bet he gives gold stars for dope bars He grades papers on haymakers He gives F's for copying answers But he gives A's for polysyllabics Just imagine this f*ggot sparring cla** clowns as a tactic to practice I bet none of his students are pa**ing his cla**es unless this battle's a cla**ic! Right? You are not a teacher: you glorify You babysit and try to make ‘em fit Most your students think they're going nowhere, like a dying atheist A fighter's nature: realize who you're inside the cage against I'm Tyson's trainer, Ryan Bader, and Urijah Faber mixed I'm the giant slayer Looks like Goliath came to get his a** whipped by Ca**ius with iron-plated fists! I know, you're hoping your tightest angle sticks But it's like my prey is fixed on dying, heading towards the light like an anglerfish! Your survival rate's in dire straits This pirate ain't equipped If it's your drive that makes you sick, you just hydroplane the whip My mind's a great abyss where no time and space exists like a Matrix glitch I brainstorm, fill the sky with flames, and scorch dry terrain when fire rains from it! Yo- f** it! I scorch dry terrain when fire rains from it Sniper's aim, I'm on your heels: diving angle pick Primal rage, the lion tamer, so your pride's endangered, b*tch! I'll light you up…like the Vegas strip! It'll feel like a tidal wave had hit Turn this huge arena to Fukushima, like “WHAT DISASTER!? I'M THE MAIN EVENT!” TIME! [Round 3: Real Deal] I heard they was gonna give him life up state, in Portland, OR But somehow, some way, you beat that weed charge and got released on O.R.! f**ing cornball! You turn a magistration visit to a murder charge You wear it proud, like a Purple Heart or a Service Star You're not tough, Gregory, just ‘cause some people in your circle are I will punch your f**ing face ‘til it looks like a modern work of art! I said, I'm computer illiterate: I'm not savvy with the Mac Here's the way I troll: I'll break the f**ing bridge of your nose if you ain't pay that toll The day you get regarded as a threat, Big T'll be eight-pack swole You, a tough guy!? sh**, a Lifetime movie wouldn't let you play that role! As far as biggest beavers in the Beaver State, the title is yours But battle rap allows the little-man-complex side to emerge I'll give it to him: little man's complex with the threats he puts inside of a verse But you p**y! You wouldn't rip the tag off a mattress on the night of the Purge! Now, THAT'S MY WORD! Yeah! f** that! Yeah, that's my word, that's my word! We could take it back, like an Indian giver Toronto, Dirtbag, when you was hit off the liquor, you tried to fight dude! It was like you was Ice Cube, and he was Debo That's because he put you in a Million-Dollar Dream hold! Hands around the neck like a Capo We saw his eyes glaze slow, and watched his knee go It's funny: he was the one pushing bu*tons, but we still saw a Mac go into Sleep Mode! I said, you let another man put you to bed: you was out! So, don't let me hear another tough line come out of Gregory's mouth! Big Man in Portland: oh, then we know what Greg is about! If he wants drama, he'll be walking with a cane once I leave Gregory house! I said, I'll put the boots to you, little dude, like a fire when you can't put it out You gon' think he's really ill once he gets that case of hand-foot-in-mouth I said, what you get paid for this? 4K? Hightail out of here, little buddy! Go and jump on your runabout! Stick to doing low-budget Portland tours, and sleeping on a buddy's couch! You can INTERNALLY OUT-RHYME ME for the next hundred rounds But hey, we know even if he beats me today…it wasn't on URL, so it doesn't count! [Round 3: Illmaculate + Lush One] That was trash! That whole weed sh** and the charges you talked about, that scheme was better ‘Cause I caught a F for felony, and with that scheme, you got a E for effort I ain't even chose to battle you Fans act like we was most compatible Bro, they ga**in' you You are only flammable next to a sun flare you trying to hold a candle to! It's unfair! They put me in the same boat as half of you So I give him God's word since y'all compared like Noah's animals! I know You wanna go to war, but feel my reign coming like approaching storms Rone and Saur'll penetrate your defenses like a Trojan horse If you compare my flow to yours, you'll be floating towards the ocean floor What I mean is: you put us in the same boat, you going overboard! Dawg, we could go back and forth, but ain't no argument Bars or flips He can't beat me freestyling: ask Charlie Clips! sh**! I mean, what'll they charge me with when I part your wig using the same sharpened edge you used to carve your niche!? You ain't even close to a animal: this ain't a safari trip You Steve Hawking when beef popping, and couldn't get an arm to lift It would get ugly if a strap on me, like Barkley kicks But I'd rather take his top off and leave something missing like Barbie's tits! The black sheep: Farley flick Spit lines: Farley sniff Get rolled up: Marley spliff Body stiff That's not negotiable, Deal: I'm not to be bargained with So, if you late on that paper like a tardy slip This clown b**h get his face split: that's Harley Quinn and Harvey Dent! Let's go! k** mode Steel toe to your jaw piece You still overly co*ky You'll feel closer to God while I feel closer to godly I'll k** him and every rapper Real's chosen to copy Want a deal? Go to a swap meet It's Operation when you dissect him, ‘cause ain't a real bone in his body! You can't put him next to me! That's how people have died! They send top-tiers over to me, and I eat ‘em alive! They make excuses for him, like, “He didn't try.” And what's my response to that? sh*t, NEITHER DID I! fu*k IT! sh**'s crazy! The dick riding's out of control I don't give a f**, though Concoct a scheme, I bob and weave every punch thrown I'm like a tugboat billowing blunt smoke I puff 'dro from Humboldt My lungs blow a Dust Bowl First round: 1-0! Second round: done fo'! This is gung-ho, to composed Charron, to a Lux flow A dunk thrown at Mutombo Uncut coke, to a blunt roach A snub-nose, to a GUN SHOW!! IT'S OVER! It's over already! Yo, Lush, bro, you struck gold He pulls out heavy metal, it gets ugly as a punk show Cut-throat, blood soak everybody in the front row You wouldn't swing a jump rope! You won't bust nothin' I feel bad for that b**h that you bust nuttin', that s*ut ho! You done duckin'? Get confronted and unfold His gums bumpin', I'll stomp him ‘til I'm done scuffin' the gumsoles! ‘Til he's nothing but a mudhole! This a**-whipping, you can't get enough of it: it's like money when it come slow! Dawg, you asked for this ma**acre So, casket, or ash and urn? You was telling me to do it: Math and Dizaster's third! What, you gonna outrap me!? It's over! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, TREVOR? OUTRAP ME!? I'm laughing: that sh**'s absurd! You act like I'm actually that concerned, with that swag that you had to learn! I mean- No! That's sh**'s bogus! If you haven't noticed, he sells it like a bad promoter And I ain't buying your rap persona! I'll sh** on your magnum opus This is target practice with the apple on ya I'll have ‘em looking for prints: CATCH IT? THAT's APOLLONIA! I'll put you in a bag, then close it Vac-seal holding back the odor when we pa** the rollers We had unfinished business, now that sh**'s over ‘Cause this battle's giving your casket closure! TIME!