Okwerdz - Okwerdz vs Arsonal lyrics

Round 1 (Okwerdz) See i may be the California cat but i feel like the one away from home this match/ Cuz this f*ggot b**h has advantages he doesn't even know he has/ So when he says i'm a broke f*g, in the source mag, with a gold plaque, they'll probably go and laugh/ Cuz we got the best crowds on the west pal, and they all know my past/ But when i bring up how CHINGY, completely owned his a**/ How he recycles loads of raps, or that little gladiators choke he had/ I guarantee that the crowd probably won't react/ Cuz no one on the fresh coast even f**ing knows this f*g/ See we agreed on the round times, until this f*gs b**hing, he called lush back trippin/ Tried double the damn limits and change the rules at the last minute/ Like how they changed hollows opponent fast switched it so he wouldn't have writtens/ And that just goes to show that fight klub are some wack b**hes that do bad business/ So grind time put the priceline on Ars's head/ 2 minute rounds ain't impressive b*tch u just put us all to bed/ When all u spit is filler it ain't really that hard to spread/ And out of 2 MINUTES, i only remembered about 2 BARS YOU SAID/ You rap bout clappin ya steel i rap what i actually feel/ You lost a battle, to the fake tech n9ne, & i did a track with the real/ See I should fracture his grill, send him back to that habitat where he chills/ And tell Loaded Lux bring me another east coast f*ggot to k**/ Ya See i'm one of Grind Time's best, i'm going on W 3/ You do fake beef video blogs like its WWE/ So after this he'll be at the telly moping around the Hyatt, doing a video blog about it crying/ Shouting THE CROWD WAS BIASED! I WOULDA WON IT IF WASN'T FOR THOSE LOUSY WHITE KIDS! (Arsonal) You tell stories and you lie to people, I mean a lotta people You're not Solomon, you're a wannabe Iron sequel And when my iron heat you, it'll turn Okwerdz to the real b**h he is, a whiteboy named Brian Peeples Why you scream and you rap loud, you a fiend with a crack valve With an oversized f**in' head, you can't even pull his hat down In high school you was a cla** clown, a shadow in the background Who raps now and drink beers with his hash browns I'm from the East, and the West look up to us We was in the telly last night with yo Cali b**h f**ing us I told her I just wanna bust, cause Wesley Snipes proved that white men can't jump So you know you can't f** with us Why's that? Cause we jump b**hes off I'm the truth in the booth and you f** n***as false I'll knock a tooth out yo roof you'll spit it out when you cough 'Fore this battle started n***as figured out that you lost Your rhymes is chop suey, that's sh** on a stick Ya girl'll walk from Cali to Jersey to sit on my dick And I don't know if you got herpes, but there's sh** on ya lips And if he was gay, Jada wouldn't even give you a kiss I handcuff you to a banister, and hit you with bricks Push ya casket down the steps before they digged you a ditch Yeah, you unsigned, right? Source unsigned hype A b**h with testosterone, a unsigned dyke Lush, I'm racin' the clock, Lush it's crunch time, right? Got bout, what? 45 seconds left? I got a rush rhyme right? Now it's time to spit it rapidly, I'm a verbal catastrophe Why the f** did you battle, Arsonal's awkward actually Okwerdz was often backwards he obviously had a tragedy Mama was runnin' back to me, probably cause your daddy's me I'm ya father, I ain't gone hide it from ya neither Back in the early 80s ya mama had jungle fever She was into black guys, hard gangster rap guys Such as myself, that's how I got on those fat thighs Act wise, I don't think you really want no altercation I'll have more n***as here than the Presidential Inauguration Confrontation constantly causes concentration You an unmoved bowel, you ain't sh**...you constipation Round 2 (Okwerdz) See i bring 7 rounds to every battle, hand crafted, savage/ You spit the same verse every time i see you on cameras yappin/ You'll probably use the same sh** against me, cuz when this f*ggots rapping/ He recycles more, than f**ing captain planet/ You's a hybrid rapper these are the known facts/ You'd think when it comes to battle verses he'd have an arsonal packed/ But when you battle 2 people and use the same bars on both cats/ Then what kinda muthaf**ing ARSONALs that?/ You from new jersey tryna gang bang? you make me sick/ This is California f*ggot, home of the REAL grape street crips/ You more like a grape fruit, living a life that ain't true/ The east coast been stealing our slang, now they want our gang names too?/ Homie I should take you, down to watts where the real grapes ride/ And Have em stomp you the f** out on the grapevine, until it makes wine/ Or maybe ill dump this punk in the trunk, of his new jersey ride/ And drive it the f** off of the route 35, and call that sh** a new jersey drive/ You've got to be the biggest gangster, to ever wear a muscle shirt/ Why'd i even take this battle i should've put em in the jungle first/ See either u on a quest to find the tightest shirt to recite a verse in/ Or you just a crooked i lookalike, but the hyphy version/ UNUSED BARS: The only time you lick shots its hypodermic/ Your not even the tightest in your little dying circuit, you want fight klub im TYLER DURDEN/ So you can kiss the f**ing lions den goodbye its curtains/ When they find out it was a white suburban Irish person on grind time that SERVED EM/ (Arsonal) Yo...I been hot since Osh Kosh Begosh and french toast overalls I'll detach ya spinal cord and rip ya shoulders off YouTube the footage of ya b**h s**in dick with her tongue out until my semen start rollin off She deepthroatin' till her lips rip scrotums off I finger all three of her holes, she a bowlin' ball I said overall, ya b**h'll make a soldier stand at attention and s** until my GI Joe is soft I be goin' off top and I write a lot Now I hope God gave you nine lives so you could die a lot I said cause first, you gon' die from a spinal shot, then Ima run you over with a SRT8 till the tires pop Liar stop with the fabrication, you a ba*tard fakin, only thing you've mastered was masturbation Why you rappers think you sick? I'm the vaccination, you the f*ggot chasin' criminals who do tax evasion You a security guard, cop, and a janitor With a wire, and a camera, and you grew up, in Canada You stepped up, so Ima knock it down another one I'm troublesome, and I'm battlin' the Crocodile Hunter's son They be like (ho-ho), crikey mate! I've traveled from a crazy state To beat your a** until your ankles break Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers and you Pete Peter Piston You a pervert pedophile and you resemble Peter Griffin You the family guy, you ain't tough and you can't be fly You the same b**h who cried when you seen Bambi die Now the bread I got from here Ima throw it out and spend That's not hair, you got a Chia pet growin' on ya chin And I'm doubtin' ya'all, plus I had it out for ya'all You smell like a gym locker, onions and alcohol You runnin' ya mouth, Ima have to cut ya fountain off Start a avalanche and make a California mountain fall n***a you from Stockton? Well Ima getcha town involved Shootin from deep and I ain't talkin' bout if I bounce the ball We got chicken shacks, you got waffle house Ya mother deep throat it before they took her tonsils out Round 3 (Okwerdz) Now see you DEFINITELY getting kicked off Loaded Lux entourage, cuz u lost it dog/ But that's what happens when you send a worker, to do the bosses job! I knew you'd go for my race, but isn't it getting sorta played/ And i may not be street in any form or way, but even I can tell that YOUR A FAKE/ I'm from Stockton b**h, born and raised, America's highest foreclosure rate/ And the most murder in California state, just ask Forbes its GREAT!/ And you act like you from the toughest parts of dirty jersey and street smart/ But you went to kean university sweet hart, so that makes you more nerdy than we are/ And its funny your whole battle scenes about being the streetest 'round/ But when the heat come out u ain't street in the least amount, b**h u more like the SCENIC ROUTE/ And id rather tell jokes and say s** my testicles/ Then be at some one dimensional gun rhyme punchline festival/ So whats next pull out the imaginary Glocks and AKeezys?/ Put me in a mothaf**in box and say easy?/ And you guys act like grind time is so underneath ya/ Been in 6 battles his whole life now he thinks he's Julius f**ing Caesar/ You Wanna battle? you gotta give Loaded Lux a visa/ And put a hundred Gs up, WHATA BUNCHA DIVAS!/ And on the real, i got respect for, Tech, Lux, Solomon, Mook and Math but the rest su*k, ill f** T REX UP/ And i'm willing to bet a, Ron Artes check stub, if you put your top 5 best up, against us, YOU'LL GET CRUSHED/ And last fight klub y'all so on the dicks, of these westside vets/ Even international p was trying to dress like Plex! And to f*ggots like himm grind times just a buncha funny clowns but ya need to be more humble pal/ Cuz fight klub's time is running out, so who's the FUNNY, MOTHER fu*kER NOW! You just wore out your California welcoming who*e/ So take your b**h a** self to Newark, and leave the fight klub belt at the door/ (Arsonal) Look at me my n***a, I'm quite fresh And I like s**, ya head's bigger than homegirl a** here in this white dress Now I could hit yo a** , jab you with a right, left Or all-dooga-cut uppercut yo a** out them musty a** jordans or some Nike checks He flew me all the way from Jersey, he said "you can't sit home" Cause ya mother gives dome and loves to catch a lot of balls in her end zone Her legs open and close, that b**h a flip phone Ya dad's been gone, he was a f*g with down syndrome So whachu want? You wantcha legs broke or shot till ya head burst Or you rather jump off of a buildin with ya head first Cause when you layin' in that stretch hearse, the kids' gon' be like "Mommy, Limp Bizkit died, he resembles Fred Durst" Okwerdz, now you got a real n***a, I was a field n***a Totin' that Tommy without the Hilfiger John McCain made it bad for ya whole race Cause now you a slave cause a n***a run ya whole state And I dare you say a n***a joke, Hulk Hogan rip ya shirt My off the top is hotter than the sh** you wrote And ya siblin' is a big mouth dick s**in' who*e And I could probably fit my fist down ya sister's throat And it probably smell like fish, and ya sister choke She a trick and she s** dick just to sniff some coke And for a brick of dope, she a let me tie a brick to her ankle and tell her she the anchor to my fishing boat I throw that b**h overboard in the water, this is not a battle by the bay, this is slaughter I'll steal yo b**h, after she give birth, my steel toe kicks'll field goal kick ya daughter Now let me tell a true story, bout ya girlfriend She's white with a flat a**, but she blow like a whirlwind I checked in the same hotel that ya girl's in She knocked on my door so I had to let ya girl in She said "Ars, I want my p**y ate and a thigh ma**age" I said "alright you can get that, after you f** my entourage" Basically feedin' her bullsh**, all kinda lies Then we whooped that trick like she was a slave on Amistad So what I'm sayin' is my large team cracked her She a groupie, she'll even let the ball team smash her The moral of the story is, yo white b**h, never got her p**y ate n***as don't eat saltine crackers I'm a giant to this leprechaun I start a riot if you step to mine, instead of bein' quiet you was testifyin' Yeah you optimus prime leader of the decepticons But I'm ya arch enemy, my nickname's Megatron You'll be dead and gone, ya full name set in stone Ya birthday followed by the day you was left alone When ya casket drop, Ima clear half ya block A magnum shot'll push yo spirit higher than a astronaut And since yo chick love to grab for co*k, we gon' make a p**no and watch it on a flatscreen magnavox I'm talkin' 60 inch HD, turn the volume to the max for the blind n***as who can't see You ain't... (ho), I said you ain't better than Jo-Jo, and played me I'm talkin' Reverend Run's son, not the n***a with KC And you f**s can't blame me, I was a lion in the lionz den but Lux couldn't tame me I'm Goliath when I shoot the Glock This little n***a must be David the way he be shootin' rocks I'll shoot yo pops if I had to, then blast two out the clip and then get the ox You shouldn't f** with this repo man, cause I stay with the tools, I'm Home Depot fam Watch out when my heat blow fam cause I don't miss when I shoot I'm Reggie Miller from free throw land And I always pack some, so if you flashin, then I guess I jack son, like you Tito, damn And I stay with a grip of cream cause I'm on the strip I'm pitchin' to the fiends Them bricks that'll have you on the tip and leaned, I'm real quick to get the beam I'm addicted to that 9 milimeter like my clip carry nicotine One from the eighth long beam, to ya ankles and leave ya with red sox Oh you don't wear socks, but like the baseball team