Arsonal vs. Conceited [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Arsonal]

Arsonal’s a household name, a known fact that’ll get you far
Conceited? That’s something a lot of ugly bitches are
Shoot at ya whip, bullets will flip ya car
Grip ya jaw and pull ya little face apart with a fucking Jiu Jitsu cloth
I’m a G, keep it a hundred and 3
Turn around little man
You square enough to live in that pineapple under the sea
Now GrindTime hit me back up, like Lush put a few more stacks up
Sent a new mission, a stew pigeon gotta be hit with a mac truck
So I’ma play the mac truck, guess who got the pigeon role
A midget troll, Conceited, he softer than a tissue role
You ain’t supposed to kiss and tell, but I kiss and told
Hey, ya sister hole is deep enough to hide a fishing pole
You a retard, ya coach told you to pick and roll
This nigga started eating his boogers after he picked his nose
Smelling his fingers when he done wiping
You a wanna be thug who’ll do anything for a gun license
Talking this ratchet and that one
You wack son, I’ll slap you with the plastic off a cap gun
Fuck rhyming, why battle rap you?
I’ll tie ya little ass to the pool table
And shoot the cue ball into ya Adams apple
And Passwurdz and that fat nigga earlier, they some lames
Said my name so I had to spit bout you
Talking that Okwerd shit
I should have Brian Peoples come and smack the shit out you
C’mon, for 3 stacks? That’s chump change
He fuckin all these young dames
His life would’ve been more if his father left him as a cum stain
Or even flushed you down the toilet in a rubber condom
Every time ya mother hide her dildos ya brother find ‘em
Y’all be playing pass the rubber dick on some other shit
Two stupid fags claiming SuperBad, Mclovin it!
Do me a favor, get a job, go learn to tie ya shoes
And stop beating ya dick with ya spermicidal lube
Con never was a con man
Con just had a lot of shit in common with Dennis Rodman
Goddamn! You claim you could beat me
You lame and you stay in a teepee
You say names when you play with ya pee pee
You tend to play games, but you ain’t change completely
“Ain’t he ugly?” C’mon my nigga, you claim you could beat me?

[Round 1: Conceited]

To get at this faggot I ain’t have to do no research on him
They kept calling my phone like, “yo I got mean dirt on him”
You still live at home with ya pops and you broke with no wealth
Then Darell Jones dropped a video blog exposing himself
You put it on the net for all us to see
But this faggot is Darell Jones Jr. so the fruit don’t fall far from the tree
I’m palming the heat and the toaster will spark ya
The chrome Ruger will drop Jones Junior like Antonio Tarver
Now you know he’s a goner, I got bars like a charged phone
From The View I see a bitch that’s talking but you not a Star, Jones
I’m a hard stone, you rough as a Brillo, nah you that skittles type
You bout as dangerous as Sisqo… in a pillow fight
Lush will call you a faggot, Plax might say you a pussy hole
They see me, think of murder and torture
But you softer than cookie dough
I see you and see butterflies and tootsie rolls
Cuz he’s the type to do the butterfly and the tootsie roll
Listen I’m the type that’ll dick ya wife, you go down, you a muff diver
Ya bitch give me dome while you sit at home like an Umpire
But you not safe, you better put on the locks/LOX like a Ruff Ryder
Cuz I roll with big semis like a truck tire
And they open caps like a sun visor
I’ll run in his house and let the snub fire
And then put the cans to ya 6 pack like Budweiser
It don’t matter what step you on Ars, I’m one higher
Cuz I’ll be damned if I lose to an elementary school bus driver
That’s not a punchline, that’s real fact! I don’t know why he’s braggin
You wake up 5 am to hop on that cheese wagon
You don’t grip pounds and have the gun shooting
You tell kids, “sit down while the bus moving!”
You never did a driveby real slow and shoot chrome
Only time you drive by real slow is in the school zone
So all that lying make you look real soft
I’ll catch you while you on ya job, dropping kids off
Shoot at him but I won’t “miss the bus” I ain’t Kriss Kross
Shots hit the window, the gas tank, the tires might rip and tear
Y’all can call it the magic school bus cuz I’ll make it disappear
This little square is in a group called Cash Addicts
And you think ya clique proper?
If you such a Cash Addict, how come you couldn’t handle a Rich Dolar?
That’s cuz you gets nada, everything you earn is useless
How you addicted to cash but broke? Y’all more like allergic to it
Them burners shooting from all the triggers I touch
Since y’all addicted to cash, I’ll keep giving him bucks!
The inf is a must if I spit millies
You could be the second nigga that get a red neck like a hillbilly
It don’t matter what you popping Ars, you could spit 50
You won’t hit me, all ya shots gonna miss cuz you from Brick City
But you wanna be from New York, but you soft as pudding
I know you Jersey niggas wanna come to NY
Cuz even the Nets wanna come to Brooklyn
But I know real killers in Montgomery, Booker T and Lafayette
You getting loud like you’ll break my neck
Pussy you nervous and wouldn’t even break a sweat
I spray the tech and I clutch and burst pipes
I’m the type to make sparks fly like love at first sight
We should’ve battled on the first night
How you gon judge me but you don’t bang hammers?
I’ll spray blammers, it’s a wrap for ya head like a bandana
Aim at his dreads and I’ll pop them locks like a break dancer
Give me a straight answer
I heard last time you left Cali faster than a Corvette
Cuz them real crips found out you threw up the wrong set
You was in ya hotel room all stressed and y’all think this pussy will bang?
How you gangsta, but sweet? What you part of? The Sugar Hill Gang?
Now you looking real lame, I swear Ars is a mess
This whole time shows you an actor
That’s the only reason you part of a set
I’m sparking the tech, Uzi’s and hecklers
Since you gangsta acting I’ll stick to the script
And shoot at ya set like a movie director
All them movements and gestures just show that Ars is fake
He never sparked the 8
You a serial/cereal killer just cuz you ate Frosted Flakes?
But I don’t want y’all to take that that’s some sort of hate
Since you from Jersey I’ll put you all in the dirt
Now y’all really can be the Garden State
But I fuck with the bricks so I ain’t saying that y’all all are lame
But if y’all keep repping Ars’ name
And he say Jersey thru his blood and thru all his veins
I’ma get rid of the bricks like a ball and crane
And then retire Jersey like the hall of fame

[Round 2: Arsonal]

They flew me out here to give ‘em a show, plus to give me some dough
You by far the smallest nigga I know
If I punched you in ya chest, ya leg would probably break with it
I don’t discriminate, I motherfuckin’ hate midgets
How you claim you let ya snub loose when I seen you cross dressing
Pink leggings and some Ugg boots
Now how can I be a fan of him?
Thanks to the cameraman there’s footage of you fuckin’ a mannequin
You at the beach getting buried in the sand again
Stuck now you can’t move, so you gotta get a tan again
Turn around, we both rap, we had a common goal
Ya father knows his 22 year old can still fit toddler clothes
You remind me of a little ass snotty nose
Punk who think he pimpin because he got a scotty nose
My nigga, you been short since The Cosby Show
I could tell you on that same shit Whitney used to shove up Bobby nose
You always talking bout how loud ya shotty goes
You wouldn’t wanna fight if I hit you with two body blows
I usually rap for a long time, but for you I’ma keep it short
I’ll beat the swine out this pig eating, Keebler dwarf
This ain’t the Octagon, this is Ars droppin’ bombs
Line for line on a delivery boy from Papa Johns
Yeah, I strive for mine, I deep sea dive for mine
Ya dude a father time, he got the swag of a soccer mom
Con yap will get steel smacked, real rap
He’ll get stomped out til by my bottom bitch until her heel crack
On camera ya banana will get peeled back
For promotion you’ll get thrown in the ocean where the seals at
He wanna go to Buffalo, where the Bills at
I wanna know, if you so hot, where ya deal at?
I’m signed, I’ma ride that motherfucker til the wheels cracked
Then I’ma break ya trachea and really kill scrap
Now I’m 2, or should I say I’m who
Is an animal on tracks a lyrical rhymes zoo
When I think of Conceited I clearly define dude
A tall midget 5’2” who wears a size 5 shoe
You so soft, so fragile and delicate
A uppercut guarantees his two nostrils separate
I’ma set it straight, every take I levitate
I drop kick you dead in ya chest while you meditate
This like Muhammad Ali against a featherweight
You a small issue, no taller than a wedding cake
This ain’t right, you totally hate life
But Chucky’s your friend to the end cuz y’all niggas the same height
I’ll show up to ya door and knock as hard as I can
Soon as you answer there’s the palm of my hand
I shoot til it’s empty, my revolver don’t jam
I’ll fuck yo mom and make you press record on the cam
Damn, I never gave a fuck about you
Every bitch up in this room could get a buck up out you
You don’t give dick to the females, you trick to the females
You a rat, they interrogate, you give them the details
See I’m a D-Boy and my bitch she a D-Girl
Ya bitch a seal her pussy smell like sea world
Fiend bitch, she suck like she forgot she got teeth
She be on her knees so much the bitch forgot she got feet!
Peep, I’m flyer than ever, I don’t hate you
So after I roast you we gon go outside and get high together
But if you don’t pass me the dutch
I’ma break my own leg just to beat yo ass with a crutch
I’m tough, hungry and agitated, you’re getting me aggravated
Your sister’s a vampire, her pussy I had to slay it
It’s a shame, your whole life has been fabricated
I meant to shoot you out when I masturbated
But instead I fucked ya mother and ejaculated
I wish she would’ve swallowed you, yo ass would’ve evaporated
But now you facing yo father getting decapitated
Stupid nigga, he’s 27 and still ain’t graduated…. From middle school!
You ignorant, you been a fool
This nigga 4’2” scared to jump in a 5 foot swimming pool
And this stupid nigga think he living cool
You never seen an 8 ball
So tell me how the fuck you supposed to win in pool?
Keep talking I’ma hang you by ya tongue high
Pretty boy and that’s the reason why yo shorty want I
See really I’m a big Willy, I’m thinking with my one eye
Once I reach for the gauge you start to run by
Some tried, but I spit rapidly til I’m tongue tied
Cuz I’m a predicate felon, Cash Addict alumni
I spit fire and it’s real hot, he kinda frail, I guess he losing weight
Since he decided to take that walk with Jill Scott
After my steel pop, he’ll drop
Ya teacher won’t have the chalk neither, this time it’ll be real cops
Outlining, north brick city yeah I’m south siding
I’m getting big, his bitch should get a bib
Cuz her mouth slobbing, you know nothing bout balling
You know nothing bout riding, unless it’s a bicycle
This nigga must be a vegetarian on my pickle
(?)
With no mercy, my rhymes colder than an icicle
I had nothing nigga, started it out with….

[Round 2: Conceited]

You sounded very repetitive, I’ma turn this place to a riot
Keep making short jokes, we gon make David & Goliath
I spit Ether so hot that I’m sparking up a flame
Ain’t nothing fire about you, why is the word Arson in ya name?
When I’m palming on the thing I’m a leg sizzler
Shots turn his dreads from black licorice to red twizzlers
He’s a switcher and now he hope that GrindTime hire ‘em
Cuz the real reason Loaded Lux fired him cuz he never tell the truth
Ever since day one you been lying then/Lion Den
But now he started his own shit
I knew there was something weird about it
Ultimate Warrior named after a wrestler
So I know there’s nothing real about it
And he does Hulkamania leg drops and ya nuccas be gossiping?
Nigga you look just like Booker T Washington
That’s probably why he took the whole wrestling route
To make you feel at home this is WCW, aight so word
Then you got dreads, Whoopie! Goldberg
Nigga you not popping it and you never squirt the toast
Only thing you have in common with the Tech 9 and Hollow’s
Is that you spit the same verse to both
But I ain’t mad at the shit you reciting often
You did what’s right Ars, you supposed to recycle garbage
Now let’s be honest, you give gang members a bad name
When you twist ya fingers and throw ya clique in the air
Cuz you a bitch, just continue to twist up ya hair
Speaking of which I let a clip spit at this dip shit
It won’t be that Canadian rapper when I shoot at this Kid’s Twists
You better sleep with one eye open like Slick Rick
I’ll make this bitch strip, take his clothes, switch my gears like a stickshift
I’ll have Darell stuck up like rich chicks
Now this “crip” love to tell stories and loves to rep Grape Street
Well I know real Grapes and they don’t like scrubs
You screaming out Watts like you some type thug
Only Watts you know deal with a lightbulb
So don’t get all hyped up, you just beating yourself
You the Brad Pitt of Fight Klub
I light slugs let a clip spark at ya feet so you could crip walk
Get pissed off when I grip the steel
Put him in a wheelchair, now you can be a crip for real
I’ma break his eyes till he can’t see
Bruise him till he’s all purple then throw him on Grape Street
Make a quick call and have Day go thru
Lush, you said in Oakland they smoke grapes?
I bet in Watts them Grapes smoke you
Cuz I know real Grape dudes that’ll make this Grapefruit leak grape juice
What could this fake Grape tell me?
You’ll get spread with the biscuit, now you grape jelly
See you stay yelling to hide ya lack of creativity
You get amped when you rapping, you screaming for no reason
You Samuel Jackson
You got no character, no cadence, no lyrics either
A 5 dollar flow with no delivery, you Little Caesars
And no Crips believe ya cuz everything you say is a made up story
You never slide shells and the Fif
To make sales on the strip to see the dough
You a TV show, all we hearing is Tales From The Crip
A bunch lies, corny bars and a couple lines
So I’ll chop off them dreads for ya Busta Rhymes
I’ll dump the 9 and snipe lead
Turn them dark blue chucks you always rap about to bright red
And snipe lead when I’m throwing up slugs
You might think he switched gangs when he’s throwing up blood

[Round 3: Arsonal]

Ya breath smell like shit mixed with clam chowder
That ain’t no damn sour, fuck bubble gum
You need to put ya fucking tongue in a damn shower
The top of ya head come to ya dude navel
We ain’t battle at the Fight Klub cuz they said
You wouldn’t of been able to see above the pool table
You don’t look that Conceited to me
You like a little boy with skinny jeans and smedium T
All this gun cocking and clapping talk will get you put in a box kid
A uppercut to you, weenie, you gon run out the door like QP and Fox did
You only 4’10” so why you rant and scream?
Let’s try gambling, $100 say he can’t tap the backboard off a trampoline
Dwarfism is what I call an issue, it must be hard to kiss you
When ya girl about 6 feet taller than you
You’ll go to jail for a starter pistol
And let ya cellmate use ya forehead for some toilet tissue
Why is that? Cuz you soft and you feminine
Talking bout “I’m pretty, my complexion is the glossiest cinnamon”
You out here in the Bay lying to these white bitches
Trying to get a date for tonight, talking bout you a dark skin Dominican
That’s why niggas hoping you lose, you was the worst mistake
To every come thru ya mother’s fallopian tubes
I choke you and hope that you ooze
Strangle ya neck than ya throat will be bruised
Then stick a mouse trap in both of ya shoes
I’ll advise you not to load ya gauge
Cuz I’ma Chuck Norris chop you, disarm you
Than pile drive you on ya shoulder blades
I’m loud, I’m high, if I don’t blow the Haze
I might Shawn Michaels super kick you in some rollerblades
Fuck heaven, you in solar space
You got the body of a 6 year old girl with a cobra face
So I know you a slithery ass snake
Who wears skinny leg jeans, Prada’s and glittery ass Bape’s
But you from BK, nigga you from Green Bay
And you work as a change toll collector on a freeway
You needed better school, you claiming you the maaaaan on the pedestal
Nigga you need to staaaaaand on a stepping stool
So we can finally talk man to bitch
You may not know, but Conceited’s considered naughty on Santa’s list
I’m a mixture of Marshall Mathers and Canibus
I’ll torture you by making you slowly sip on ya grandma’s piss
Then feed you banana clips and that’s desert
Fuck battling me, you need to worry about
Dude who say he gon fuck you up after work
Cuz I’ve travelled, I’m good, I’ve battled around half the earth
Ratchet burst, Casket, Hearse, Paul Bearer, Pastor, Church
You a dead bird, pigeon gone
Is it true all little people are fans of midget porn?!
I’m the king and you a little pawn
Other words, Mr. Potato-Head height with the little arms
Game over, ya midget ass need a make over
I know it’s a small world, but I’d be damned if little people take over
To beat me, you gon need a verse from Jigga, Jay, Hova
One hundred and eight soldiers and a fucking flame thrower
In battle I’m on top of this, you about as real as Metropolis
I shove my dick and a Rhinoceros down yo sisters esophagus
Stop talking like ya hand on the metal
Nigga how you gon do a drive by?
You jump in the driver seat and ya feet don’t even land on the pedal
You need 4 phonebooks to sit on, nigga you should just fly there
At 6 flags they said you gotta be this tall to get on
So we know you can’t ride there!
’09 is my year, Oakland what’s cracking? He’ll die here
We at the dinner table, this nigga eating Yoga in a high chair
With a bib and a pacifier in a diaper full of soft shit
I’ll fuck you up physically, no hand work, all kicks
I’ll have ya niggas like “Ahh shit! That nigga Ars sick
He done turned Con to one of the cast members in Saw 6”
I hate grown men with baby faces
And I actually hate people, that’s mainly racist
I’m felon, back in Jersey I’m on the run, I got 80 cases
You a ass eater, ya tongue all in that lady anus
You like butt in ya mouth
That’s why you smoke cigarettes on a daily basis
I’m the man with my black ass, I squeeze hands and my mac blast
Is there a reason I’m battling Wee-man from Jackass?
I get it craccin, we could get it poppin, full cost
How I’m supposed to take you serious when Willy Wonka is ya boss?
This the truth, I wouldn’t lie to you, but what type of guy are you
That can actually stand straight the fuck up
And don’t gotta bend down when he tie his shoe?
Are you white or black? Dominican? Latino? Crippin or Damu?
Conceited wouldn’t be ill with the swine flu
Every STD possible and cancer times 2
Or even the actual AIDS virus secretly living inside you
Brooklyn can’t find you with a flashlight in the daytime
Cuz you the neighborhood predator little man
You made Dateline bout 8 times
This nigga talking real nasty on the chat room
Beating his dick off in the bathroom
I bet you right now it’s a 12 year old girl waiting for him in the backroom
I don’t give a fuck, you talking all this squirting
You don’t pop shit but a shirt tag
You’s a skinny, scrawny, filthy fucking shit foot dirtbag
And last but not least, I bust my clip
If I do this one more time, stand on my homies shoulders
I’ll be the height that you could suck my dick

[Round 3: Conceited]

I shine like pearls and some glitters, but look at my ears
The girl in the backroom, that girl is ya sister
Now listen I’m starting to think Arsonal’s dumb
With that whole little style you pulled
Where’d the fuck you get the name Arsonal from?
Is it to show the many was that Arsonal’s garbage?
Or is it because all you got is an Arsenal of losses
I’m so sick when I spit my bars make you nauseous
I’m sharper than the top of arrows
They wouldn’t let you stay in The Booth if you was Colin Farrell
That’s because you don’t say anything swell
I’m emptying shells you New Jersey Devil I’ll send ‘em to hell
In ya video blog you called me a window shopper, bitch I’m a star!
The only way I’m window shopping is if I’m buying tints for the car
Why you spitting them bars? You sound like a pussy
A bitch! A herb! I know you want no action Marv
Cuz he’s scared of a/Aye Verb
That means you don’t sprout guns no matter the outcome
You been to the East and the West in the map and the bottom
But St. Louis got you scared to be in the middle like Malcolm
Now you know after that I ain’t losing
I’ll make sure that pilot drop you off in St. Louis
Better get ready to rip that tight shirt and spit them choppers
Cuz I’ma say, “yo he’s right thurr” and have them Hitmen Holla
I’m hotter
All you rap about is how bitches will suck you and a bitch will touch you
Nigga I don’t even think that a bitch would fuck you
So stop saying you be cashing them checks
You a rookie and you battling vets
The only time you got pussy is when you backed out from battling Rex
Now it’s time for me slashing ya neck, Ok said you go to Caine University
So you be in the campus courtyard
Your life’s not gang related school boy
Only B’s and C’s you know about go on report cards
We all know that Llama is on him
His guns might go bam boom but mine sound like this ….
Cuz the silencers on ‘em
See this is the same place you lost last time now you gon defeat yourself
Isn’t it awkward/Okwerd how history repeats itself?
But that’s not a shoutout
As far as the West I got love for (?), Dizaster and Passwurdz tough
But the rest of them nerds suck, I’ll fuck Okwerdz up!
I’m the type to move the rock first, I’m like Cavemen
The extra clips go for the Ruger, the silencer’s on the 5’s and sem’s
The Inf beam go on top 8’s like my Myspace friends
So I don’t know why you talking and yelling, I be sparking the weapon
It won’t be a cartoon when all ya dogs go to heaven
I’m armed with the weapon, I cock and I shoot it
Now they’ll be playing gospel songs gothical music
Lose it and I’m popping these Rugers
Have ya whole fam lighting up candles, you ain’t gotta be Jewish
Try to be stupid Ars, you approaching a Gorilla
I got toasters to deliver, shit floating in ya liver
You see my finger holding on the trigger
I’ll have his body like Tina Turner, Rollin On A River

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