Conceited vs. Illmaculate [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Illmaculate]
This tall motherfucker! He tries to pull hoes and can’t
Cuz he’s a hoe with Cam’s delivery
So when he talks about poppin off, you know it’s rap
He will never load the blam literally
I’ll crush him like a soda can and choke the man viciously
He ain’t ever sold a gram, I know the mans history
He be holding hands trying to go and dance with his team
Rock N’ Roller swag with them holy ass skinny jeans
What? You thought Lenny Kravitz would let me have it?
No, not today
It must be a spendy habit sniffing coke off a tray
But if this sissy ass ain’t a trendy faggot well shit he’s just a frohawk away
Look so just know, Ill’s a savage
I wanted to battle for a G in Portland, he said “no,” little faggot
All that shit talk with no skill and no skrill to back it
When I serve you now you can’t blame it on home field advantage
I got em shook in my presence; let’s take a look at the evidence
Even QP said “Con’s my man, but I don’t think he should’ve accepted it”
I said “You think I challenged him?
He’ll get what he deserves, that pussy requested it”
I swear to god, look at this motherfucker, this is my competition?
The truth is he’ll say some funny shit & have some laughable metaphors
But real talk he’s ducked the fuck out
Of his last 3 battles he was scheduled for
He even bitched out in Portland, like a lil fuckin jerk
Said he couldn’t afford a plane ticket, I thought you hustled work?
You only talk about it, I actually put my hustle first
Looked up the ticket and purchased it just to murk this bitch
And I’ma fuckin get my money’s worth
This is real talk, all this shit happened really yo
We were supposed to battle in Portland, but this faggot really won’t
The truth is I said I’ll come to your hometown and snatch ya skrilla bro
Then he started acting like a little hoe back peddling like
“Yeah, but that’s a little different though”
And that’s a direct fucking quote
You know what, you’re right, cuz if you lose no one’s shocked
See this is Pass & Daylyt, Math & Dose, make a move and the fun stops
This is Solomon, Mic Assassin, you’re losing and I’m not
This is Arsonal & Hollow, this is Mook & Yung Hot
This is body bag, so acting hard isn’t suitable behavior
Even having your name on the same flyer as me
Makes it look like your foolish moves are major
I just made your career, get on YouTube and view it later
You’ll see the truth is, even letting you lose to me is doing you a favor
But look do me a favor
Don’t give him bigger battles or start interviewing this bitch
You’re pitiful, simplistic
You got me feeling stupid for even giving you this privilege
See I never been beat, you’ll never be me
You wish you kept the receipt, but you can’t take it back
I’m a legend and you ain’t even the best in ya league
He don’t clap lead, he’s just a bitch that’s been giving a fair chance
Duke holla, I’ll brawl with you and everything
See he a crackhead cleaning up shit with his bare hands
For 2 dollars and a malt liquor energy drink
Dog I’ll leave you resting in peace and quest this my peeps
But he’s more like Apollo, except he’s even less of a G
He wouldn’t even walk down Sesame Street unless he was 70 deep
Don’t show me your mean face you little clean shaped swamp rat
I don’t gotta put money on ya head, I got a prepaid contract
I’ll whoop that ass and my dudes got 3k on that
You whoop my ass? You boys wouldn’t put a keychain on that
You could talk about shit you ain’t got we’ll give you some leeway on that
But lay a finger on me and that ass won’t make it to the freeway on ram
Queer lookin motherfucker man…

[Round 1: Conceited]

Listen faggot! You callin me a rat is a irrelevant
I’m a rat but you still scared of me, that makes you an elephant
See you wanna say I skip chow but faggot I wasn’t even in town
So when Illmaculate rapping, don’t think yo mac is a savage
I saw ya last two battles and that DIZASTER was MADNESS
People didn’t give you the win cuz you was spittin it clever
You appeared to be ill, maculate
They felt sorry for you cuz you look sicker than ever
But I know where this drug addict went damn wrong
He left chubby, started fuckin with the rock
And lost more weight than Cam’ron
But he don’t wanna leave it alone because he love it do death
Change ya name to Redman the way you keep fuckin with Meth
And another thing that got me real pissed about you
Ya nicknames “Ill” but besides ya health there’s nothing sick about you
That’s why ya whole gimmick is ironic, you should be shuttin ya mouth
You got the words “ill” and “mac” in ya name
Two things you’ll never know nothing about
I dump and I sprout once I aim the Ruger
Ain’t nothing funny about this clip Mac, it ain’t a blooper
Really this thang will shoot ya, you never came for the drama
Cuz ya crew name the sand people
We supposed to believe that y’all stay with them llamas?
You been hiding real well for that year, who’d you stayed with? Osama?
You spent all ya WRC money, now he’s asking for CHANGE like Obama
So I know Illmac ain’t seeing cash with them measly raps
You got no KRAFT, since this battle is for CHEESE it’s gonna be EASY MAC
So you can take one look at him and see that Gregory broke
That’s why ya last name says it all because you cuz Gregory’s Poor/Pol
That Desert will blow or the .45 will go right in the bulls/bols eye
How you gon call yourself Big, Mac? When you just a small fry
See like I can use short jokes on him literally
Illmac you a little geek who’s even too little for little league
But see this not my style, I know how to make GrindTime get crazy
Just say…
“You look like Greg Brady and Ms. Daisy had a big baby with Slim Shady
Who blew up like an M-80
Fuck that the shit I grip spit crazy
And I put Rockets to ya T, Mac like McGrady
This big 80 will cock and shoot and I’ll get rid of Ill like a doctor do
I rock the booth and I got the coldest raps
I’ve always had a PC, but now I can say that I’ve owned a Mac
As far as ya raps who the fuck you gon lie to?
You named ya album Police Brutality? Who the fuck is gon buy you?
He thought because the title had something to do with pigs
That ill would spread faster than the swine flu
See you slide thru and make tracks about being a burglar
But that’s something you not dumb dumb
Cuz battling Quest is the only time you robbed someone
And I see you mockin someone, you a sloppy disgrace
He saw The Saurus style, called himself Mac so he can Copy & Paste
So you let him help with this battle so you can maybe come harder
Now I can say I sonned Greg and Peter, I’m the Brady Bunch father

[Round 2: Illmaculate]

He used my name against me, even broke down every syllable
Like “Ill” and “Mac” that shit is so predictable
You would do that, cuz that’s something that a bitch would do
Now you know time limit rules working against you
Cuz everybody sick of you
See it doesn’t matter if we’re in Portland, I’m vicious
I’ll spit fortified sickness, Con we could ignore the time limits
But you’ll spit 30 seconds of material over the course of 5 minutes
I should curb stomp ya, you on the outside lookin in
New York, Florida, Cali, you a turf hopper
He gets run out of every hood he’s in
Soon as ya squad roll up, get ya strong hold touch
You better thank the stars
You don’t get John Doe’d and beat on like Bongo drums
He got basic bars, he claim he hard, but everything he said’s a gay remark
I guess that’s why you “paaaause” so much
With yo small ass hands, probably use em to palm goat nuts
Someone tell me why this little long nose fuck is trying to act all grown up
You taking knife hits, we inhale the greenest haze
You suckin guys dicks, in jail receiving AIDS
Rhyming slow “liiiike this” even a snail is keeping pace
I’ll turn Conceited into a shy bitch with a tail between his legs
We throwing dro in a jar to get my skrilla equal
I’ll hit you with so many arms I’ll millipede you
You so phony it’s hard to still believe you
And that voice killin me
I guess that’s why most of his bars are about killin people
You lookin sick and feeble, this bitch is see-thru
And since you ‘grip the eagle’ the clips/Clipse will greet you
Like “everyone say hello to Mr. Me Too”
Me too, I’m 5’5” but I’m feeling Diesel
Walking thru you to get to the stage, my bad lil homie, didn’t see you
And I say “lil homie” cuz it feel like you’re “this” small to me
I don’t respect your battle record, persona or your discography
Faggot see, I don’t play around but this kid should be at Recess
You just a bitch to me that seem stressed
You kidding me? How he’s dressed?
You ain’t an American Idol
But you could probably hit the scene with Seacrest
Sporting them skinny jeans and V-necks
Get real you ain’t pitching ‘caine on the curb
You’ll get ya kilo snatched and played for the herb
And matter fact I know a chick here
That’ll beat yo ass if I gave her the word
Man I give em a fair dose of some rare jokes
But I hope this square chokes and dies
Along with any rapper that uses “air” quotes
Fuck a cheap shot right, that’s when Dizaster occurs
Speaking of which, I hope you choke and collapse in the third
When you’re rapping your verse
Then quit like a bitch like that other faggot I served
I don’t give a fuck if this cat’s challenging the vets
You don’t have talent you a mess
He from NY? I think this cat traveled to the west
Just to see Illmac battle in the flesh
He asked for bus fair to catch the mass transit or the express
I’ll give em a buck 50 and tell me to panhandle for the rest

[Round 2: Conceited]

As far as pussies everybody knows I love to smash it
I know you gay
Cuz a Mac is made by Apple, which is a fruit, you fuckin faggot!
You see this man’s lethal, I’ll squeeze that damn Eagle
Fill em all with shells now y’all really can be sand people
I’m hotter than a heat wave
You keep showing us the same shit like a replay
Illmac ain’t got bars, ya phone’s prepaid
I squeeze treys give the sand people Heat like D. Wade
That’ll wet up all the people in the sand like a beach wave
See he’s gay and the type that like his spine fractured
You don’t go for the cat, you go for the sack like a linebacker
I’m a 9 clapper, you from Portland but you never seen them Blazers come
I can hit you with a knife or a gun (Oregon) like the state you from
I hate this bum, I slay vets and I spit great
Your rhymes full of gay sex in a big way
And you got mad cuz people literally took a rain check on ya mixtape
This dick face can get a slug from me
Or the blade will give him a buck 50 like lunch money
The 44 got a big nose like Doug Funny
You’ll be in the ground in a hole like Bugs Bunny
Cuz we all tuck and my dog buck like Bud Bundy
Illmac ain’t got real cash, this bum’s bummy
You do all the work but Peter get the fame, you The Saurus’ stunt dummy
So listen I’ma do it like this, I don’t wanna hear none of that chitty chat
Cuz listen you’ll get wet like Aquaman, I go to Portland
Lasers go on top of the burners like pots and pans
So you ain’t living none of that
Only reason you got love for New York is cuz you’re a Midget, Mac
So I don’t even know why Ill’s spittin
When The Saurus gave you life, you Peter’s son, you like Chris Griffin
When them clips lifting the heat will shoot, it’s mad noise
When the scope is on it’s like Pokemon
I’ll peak at you (Pikachu) and blast toys (Blastoise)
I clap boys and when them rods are powing
I’m give Ill, matics like Nas’ album
And they all gon pop and stretch him
So y’all know who’s gon die, Ill Will like Nas’ best friend
I don’t wanna hear nothing bout how you rhyme about dope
Only reason you ever flipped a quarter is cuz you a GrindTime host

[Round 3: Illmaculate]

He wanna act like he a gun for hire, like he’ll bust the iron
If you believe that then I’m the caveman that discovered fire
In other words “no you won’t you fuckin liar”
See you do not have caine to package, you became an addict
You a blatant faggot, fuck outta here you little boy go play in traffic
I’ll murk you and anyone that you sit around with
On different couches talking shit
I’m better than you and there’s no way to get around it
Me & Conceited were shooting craps it got serious & the chips amounted
I roll snake eyes then took the cash like “you ain’t gon do shit about it”
It’s like you played at the Casino, I just robbed him for all of his cheese
And don’t play with me Mijo, you ain’t shaving a kilo
You just a fraudulent G
Look at him I’m deflating his ego
Son’s cocky but all of us see
I got built up frustration and I been waiting
To Debo somebody smaller than me
And you fit the bill, you’re chick’s next
She got a Pelican’s beak and a thick neck
That shit look’s like an Elephants knee
And if she gets wet you could probably smell it for weeks
Now that’s some shit the best pimp couldn’t sell in the streets
You don’t want it with me you’ll get stretched
You’re too delicate chief
See he wanted to be in Dipset but his impressions were weak
He even met most of the camp yo, it was a big deal for ‘em
He ran up on Cam’s lambo and tried to squeegee the windshield for em
Cam sped off, he like “I just wanted to roll in his whip and drive with em”
Even he knew when it’s time to roll with your clique, you’re side switchin
He’s like “what’s wrong? I’m loading the clip, my 9’s clickin”
Then 40 Cal spit in his face and told em to stop dry snitching
And this gay bitch ain’t wash his face since
Now he’s off to frontin like “oh this is Juelz cell calling”
He’s as soft as muffin’s but he feel like he accomplished something
Just cuz Hell Rell robbed him
He loved every second of it too, he even caught his bitch misbehaving
She was with Duke Da God getting naked
And that shit didn’t even get em angry
He thought his membership to the crew was under consideration
Cuz Duke tricked him saying “Con close the door, it’s only initiation”
Then this bitch, he started grinning like a little hoe
He thought they let him in the crew, good thing they didn’t though
They like “I’m sorry Con, you just too little holmes”
Then he had a fit to throw like “all my bitches say that, man I figured so”
This bitch, he even got a story about Jimmy Jones
He was trying to get his autograph outside of one of his biggest shows
On some Stan shit he was in the cold, -6 below
4 hours and he just said “no”
Stand on ya own, this is one of my pet peeves
You talk strong, but if you thought he was a threat? Please…
You thought wrong, cuz in real life
He’s just a TextCee on lets beef dot com
That’s why I’m already thinking bout the next battle after em
Cuz I got trophies & rings in real life & you’re just a text battle champion
And for those of y’all with a life that don’t know what that means
This motherfucker signs online, battles other nerds just like himself
All around the world, it’s fucking sad, look…
And that’s why I ain’t buying your hard act, like you wildin and all that
You wouldn’t step inside of a fight or a small scrap
He ain’t bangin in street wars
He’s the type to resolve that banging his keyboard
And typing in all caps
So don’t say another word
Any street cred you mistakenly gave em was undeserved
You’re a fuckin nerd, you ain’t flippin birds
You’re just flippin out whenever your cordless mouse doesn’t work
While Poindexter talks about how he murders cats
Or has the burner strapped
He rather be debatin the finer points of HTML vs Flash with his nerdy ass
You ain’t pitching crack rock for the cash
You live your life on the net, you should be the mascot of that trash
And if you don’t like it, what you gon do? Bust a Caps lock on my ass?
You a girl scout so don’t act like you drama startin or your llama’s sparkin
All serve you all a cart and you leave you on a carton
Cuz in real life he’s just a bus boy at the fuckin Olive Garden
And don’t give me that look like you don’t know what I’m talking bout
Your runs over I seen it
I’ll come to your work, knock the plate settings off your table
And stomp you out when you come over to clean it
Try running up, I’ll murk em, watch em break in two
Lil homie what the fuck? I’m not person trying to play with you
You could be runner up, this serve is not debatable
Cuz you ain’t got a gun to buss, but I’m sure you got a table to
So this bitch right here, he got a job
So that’s a fact I’m normally fine of lookin past
But how you gon come to the battle smelling like Tortellini shrimp alfredo, a hooker’s ass
I swear to god, fetch me some food to eat and your finest wine
And don’t worry about this battle, you’re gonna lose to me, it’s finalized
Cuz you ain’t in your comfort zone without a work apron
And a computer screen to hide behind
I know they watching this battle like “shit, he’s relentless”
I should let this square fix me some breakfast
But instead go get me some breadsticks or I’m keeping your 15% bitch
So if you wanna talk about my crew, you better speak on facts
Cuz on the real you ain’t seeing none of my team on tracks
And as far as the streets go, you really think he gon scrap?
Only one weighs a buck 20 and he’ll stomp this peon flat
I got 5 G’s and both my rings on that
Body bag…

[Round 3: Conceited]

Greg you got identity theft, I swear I think Ill lost it
You wanna be black so bad you want us to call you milk chocolate
See I’m rock hard, you a soft daisy
You couldn’t be slim, who you supposed to be? Short Shady?
And The Sand People a bunch of wannabe Eminem’s
But y’all bugging with the swag
Since y’all wanna be M&M’s I’ma put him in a bag
And this is the truth, please believe it
Since y’all fake M&M’s we’ll call him Rieces Pieces
So I could look at ya face and see that cap is lying
Matter fact that mac is flying
A computer charger won’t save this mac from dying
So mac stop, a laptop’s the only time we see Mac with keys
Got no cheese, Velveeta’s the only time we see Mac with cheese
I go in his house with Beretta’s and pounds
I’ma kill this square, make sure he’s never a-round
You’ll be dead in the ground
I got niggas in Cali that’ll clap me
So I got a Westside Connection that’ll give Mac, 10 (Mack 10)
So you saying you the best? I’m not buying it
How the fuck are you ill when mac’s don’t get viruses?
So why you even try to spit when all you making is gay songs?
How you gon blow up like Napalm
When you couldn’t even blow up an H bong?
I keep that thang palmed, and when the hammy buckin crazy
They’ll have to identify you by ya legs like the nanny from Muppet baby
I want ya gravy so don’t act surprised
After I book with his loot I’m cooking this fruit like an apple pie
All them jokes gon get you top story on channel 5
So keep being funny and like Bernie you’ll be another Mac to die
Rapping wise this is a written battle all that freestylin shit you not shinin
You must’ve lost your noodle
If you think you could come off the top rhyming (Top Ramen)
You rely on rebuttals, writtens is what you’re lacking the most
You will never be a rapper with quotes
You more like laffy taffy, just a rapper/wrapper with jokes
I’m clapping the toast, when the caliber’s sparkin
They gon click and pop like when Africans talkin
Ya whole bracket is boring
We all said the North West is that silly division
He claim he “run it,”
Think he on the same level as Lush and Drect, but really he isn’t
As far as GrindTime you just a BITCH
That wanna be President like Hilary Clinton
See listen what me and you spitting is different
You rap about making bills
And you might have clips/Clipse but they ain’t for real (Pharrell)
So I don’t wanna hear how you spray the steel or air the Ruger
You like Ferris Bueller, you fakin ill
You got basic skill, how the fuck you want the crown?
Going to labels like “I swear you gon love the sound, just play a track”
But since ya name is MAC they shut you down
The whole crowd’ll jump around cuz I’m running this big show
You’ll be down from just one bar, something like limbo
Once I let all the guns and the clips blow
For the first time y’all gon see a MAC running thru WINDOWS
With all this info I sweat this shit is scary
You sweeter than a dingle berry
You such a wannabe The Saurus just change ya name to Dictionary
But now I think you wanna be me, what kinda shit are you on?
Little man you better cut it like a coupon
Cuz you not a G MC so what makes you think that you Con (Yukon)?
I keep the tool on, when the caps’ll pop em
I swear he’ll go in the freezer like Baskin Robbins
Play Batman then my ass is Robin/Robbin
And don’t think that your raps are rockin
The Saurus been carrying Ill longer than Magic Johnson
Cuz I swear Ill you nothing but a peon
Like that Celtics player
The Saurus got Po on his back we should call hi Leon
You might think The Sand People gon be there for you to lean on
If that’s ya people, I’ma have SAND in front of the ER like DEON
So now we all know that Illmac fake, don’t think Mac lethal
This Mac 10 will have him with Mac Dre
I swear you nothing like a sad waste
Since you look like Eminem this how I’m gon diss you
His big jeans is yelling “ILLMAC I DON’T FIT YOU!”

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