Bender vs. Aftershock [Lyrics]

[Verse 1: Aftershock]
Fuck Jabba the punk
I will batter and bandage you up
Discuss with my homie see if you’ll fit in the back of the trunk
So fuck off with any talk about deep pockets
That money you just put up was a week’s profit
I mean speak on it, it’s not a question of who gave you the bread
But I just wanna know, how much did your uncle pay you for head?
I mean did he lay you in bed or did he wake you instead?
Matter of fact shut your fucking mouth it smells like AIDS on your breath
They say ‘Bender a monster, he a beast with the writing’
You a sheep to a lichen boy I kick in ya’ hymen
Shove a knife deep to your right cheek and force your beard into hiding
How you supposed to be a shooter when your Glock on safety?
A lot of you killers, look like clown faggots like John Wayne Gacy
But you got deep-rooted problems, it’s something medicine can’t fix
If I call you a motherfucker it’s ’cause of ya’ Oedipus complex
So you don’t pack pumps or keep that gat tucked
This fat fuck act up, he’ll get smacked into last month
Leave ya’ crew missing like BrassMunk, when I hit ’em with brass knucks
I’ll spell death with ya’ name and let you meet God
Have B, come to an end, when he lays in the ER

[Verse 1: Bender]
See I was gonna be cool with you, but you called me out, so let the murder begin
Before burning this bridge you shoulda learned how to swim
So talk about how my stomach sag, my punches and my knuckles drag
But you should be the last man that judges me, like Madness with the Ruffles bag
Now when you said you’d lift the ‘matic, and sent that little Mista faggot to Mr. Magic, that shit was classic
‘Cause just imagine this Hispanic Rick Moranis gripping ratchets
You’d get your ass kicked tryna buy a gun, try it son
You’ll have doctors taking shots outta you, like liquor cabinets in the Hamptons
So put the money in the bag in an unmarked fashion
Raise a finger I’ma turn you to the one-armed bandit
I’d give my left nut to see son start blasting
How you gonna front like your guns aren’t plastic?
Fucktard it’s FD, you love our classics
We come hard, play us and the club start thrashing
So fuck a firearm, I’ll let one bar smash him
‘Cause my gang catch wreck like a junkyard magnet
Guns start clapping, shit’ll pop off in a second
So tell ‘shock to stop talking ’bout weapons
‘Fore I block off all the exits, and draw blood, like a Compton cop’s composite sketches
I can’t stop, won’t stop, you get no props
Ask around my juice is off the meter, like a grow op
You stay cool though, I guess you’re used to getting a beating
‘Cause your boyfriend plays rough when he wears stilettos
He leaves you there to tremble, humming the tune of Aaron Neville’s Sexual Healing

[Round 2: Aftershock]
Watch ya’ lip today
My telekinesis will have ya’ pistol break put screwdrivers to ya’ jaw help fix ya’ face
It’s cleats to ya’ teeth if you run ya’ mouth
You got as much heat in the streets as when the sun go down
I’m too strong, you lukewarm
If your dudes swarm ya’ crew’s torn
I’ll take Heavy or Newborn and use ’em as a shoehorn
Someone tell this great fat slob that he ain’t that strong
If I hate ya’ songs I’ll break ya’ arms
Ya’ aim is off my name get dropped
Your face get stomped on Saint Laurent
I don’t think Heavy B wanna mess with me wanna rep ya’ scene I’ll flex the heat come 50 deep with TECs and beams
Watch your best emcee’s breath will cease
And God as my witness you ain’t built for this mic business
You better hope that Christ visit within these time limits
‘Cause I ain’t Semper Fi bitches, but I came with night vision
So I’ll strap this dolt to a catapult and check his flight distance
This man Bender, you sans gender, is this hermaphrodite learning?
When I have blood running down yo’ temple, it’s ’cause I sacrificed a virgin

[Verse 2: Bender]
Well listen to you, fronting like you got a gutter side
I seen your gutter side, slumped outside a Country Time
Chugging a jug of wine, panhandling with your hat out like ‘Anything you can give man, much obliged’
He said he’s rolling with a bunch of dimes
But when this bum arrived at the club and I looked inside his ride
He was the only one in five who didn’t look like Busta Rhymes
You must be blind or fucking high
And if this chump denies he’s fucking guys from behind it’s just a lie
‘Cause he leads a double life and plays the other side like a Russian spy
And we seen him at the club one night with a bunch of guys with bugged-out eyes doing the shuck and jive
The dutty wine, the butterfly, and the bump n’ grind, all in double time
Makes me think of that Chuggo line, everybody, ahhh come on fucking guy
And you gotta love your broad, she been looking fine
But if that slut was mine, I’d have her rub a couple pints of fungicide up inside those jumbo size Kentucky fried thunder thighs
He said ‘I’m going to Montreal to get cake,’ she said ‘Make sure it’s Duncan Hines’
But the only thing he’s taking home is a slice of humble pie
And I figured this geek would say some shit about Futurama
‘Cause he’s got not only the face of the chupacabra but the brain of a cucaracha
Now I had your Cuban mama, on my knee like who’s your papa?
And when I kicked her out the house she said ‘I’ll be calling you mañana’
She [?] to the tune of Hakuna Matata but I guess that you already knew that ’cause you share a room with your father
I’ll take you and your partner to the funeral parlor
For Pete’s sake I’m a beefcake like Brutus the Barber

[Verse 3: Aftershock]
This guy’s gonna mention my mama, then he’s gonna mention something about mañana
If I took your head off it’s candy inside we’ll call you a piñata
This dumb mope is as cutthroat as flip-flops on a vato
If you mention hip hop in Toronto I’ll make you [?] a bottle
Fuck ya’ shit-talk bravado I see what you into look
Since you wanna stay on Loey’s sack I guess you blow Hindu- woah
I’ll leave his poor slut, looking like cold cuts
You can’t blow up in four months when you tour on a short bus
Making music like K-Fed, but straight edge
So you ain’t tryna free base, but what’s up with the vial of cheesecake on the side of your keychain?
This motherfucker looks unemployed, I bet this cheapskate sleeps late
When you catch Bender in a strip club, it’s afternoon on a weekday
When I go to Super Sexe, dance and a free brain
When you go to Super Sexe, before the dance they make your fat ass prepay
Shit son you ain’t Big Pun, this fat joke don’t rap dope
But this asshole is that close to leaving flat broke with a slashed throat
I break barred doors till my arm’s sore, this white Rick Ross
Blades swinging all around ya’ head like Inspector Gadget during liftoff
So start singing bitch like you ending an opera
This assassination, dismembered by Molotovs we’ll never find the body parts of senators from Ottawa
I pack bowling balls, throwing stars, oh my God au revoir

[Verse 3: Bender]
Now he’s got Junk and Perspectivez calling him up like ‘Let’s do another song’
But if your opponents don’t hate your fucking guts after then you’re doing something wrong
And that so-called flip about Haiti? That was some bisexual wackness
You couldn’t find a stupider premed on the DeVry medical campus
And I’d say that you’re more Larry King than Latin King, hammerhawk wan’ get physical
He’ll hit the canvas and have it looking like a Jackson Pollock original
Arm all stiff, he gon’ need doctors
With his left eye jumping like a TLC concert
I came here to smash this snake in the grass
Outbox him southpaw and take away his right, like the P.A.T.R.I.O.T. Act
And watch when I get to brainstorming
That shit’ll flood the Saint Lawrence
And turn the province of Quebec into a motherfucking rainforest
And you, you’d sell ya’ boys out to avoid detention
Me, I’d just kick back and enjoy the sentence
And Montreal should get my point of reference
When I say fuck paying coin for a lawyer session
I represent myself shouting ‘Die motherfucker die’ that’s word to Royal Peasants
And you’ll think I’m messing with Jungle Beats, when I connect with him double speed
And treat this Mexican jumping bean’s freaking head like a drum machine
Even if you rolled a hundred deep ya’ crew couldn’t fuck with me
That’d be like the Spanish Armada defeating a fleet of nuclear submarines
And go ahead, take a trip down to Philly, B-more, Stockton
Compare me and ‘shock, see who gets called the real emcee more often
And when I ask myself in ten years will I be forgotten?
Probably, but at least the last girl I dealt with doesn’t look like Philip Seymour Hoffman

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