Illmaculate vs. Bender [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Bender]
Now he wrote some extra raps
To switch the limits and mess around
Thinks he set a trap
On some last minute trick to extend the rounds
I expected that, so let him rap
You won’t get your wish now anyhow
Get ready Mac, they can call you my British mistress
When I spread you out in a second flat
Now at first I thought I fucks with dude, this youngin’s cool
He greezy when he spit
He got that hundred proof yet butter smooth
I’m feelin’ that, he’s slick
So I took a couple views to study you and realized that your gift
Is nothin’ new, you just make what you do look easy, ’cause it is
Got around to watchin’ my last video
I guess now you’re gonna say that was a pity vote
I could picture folks at home facepalmin’ like, “Oh, that’s rich!
Illmac’s here to learn us on some grown man shit!”
So how’s this
He gets a Too Short t-shirt every Christmas, he’s a tad fed up
I heard the doctor diagnosed him with crib death at his last check up
He needs water wings when he wants a drink
At the washroom sink when the man gets up
In the night, and rides a golf cart around the mini putt course: that’s messed up
See you ain’t amountin’ to shit but a mountain of shit
And you ain’t been valid in this since 2006
So we can get this solved tonight
And you can call me Walter White
‘Cause I can have you all on ice without a ounce of that gin
My last performance? AGL, they give the kid some respect
‘Cause most would agree that I beat myself
So really that’s my biggest win yet
Sorry Sketch!
And I can count the opinions I give a shit about on my dick
So in the end, I’m still king and that chain’s a trinket at best
Get initials stitched in your head like official Mitchell & Ness
While I hit your ribs with my fist in a vicious ripple effect
Won’t be talkin’ ’bout escapin’ no polygamist sect
When a compound break makes your collarbone stick out your neck
And he’s always stretchin’ bars to compensate
‘Cause his body is formed in the proper proportions
This became obvious in the washroom before this
When he caught my performance
Glancin’ at me pissin’ like, “God that’s enormous!
I never saw that in Portland!”
I didn’t have the heart to say that’s just the top of my foreskin
He called it a “horse dick”
You ask if he’s a virgin or not, he will totally avoid it
If you heard that Mac was workin’ a broad he had overseas employment
Now you got 2 or 3 minutes before the heat I drop next
So go cop my fuckin’ album:!

[Round 1: Illmaculate]
For this entire battle, you’re gonna have to come hard
So for the rest of this battle, I dare you not to sweat like a retard
And lose your breath every one bar
Now, some people think you beat Sketch Menace
You did, I can not front on him
I got a lot of dope lines for you—and that’s not one of ’em!
Last time I was in Toronto for a peaceful weekend
Getting high with Spade, at the theater, chiefin’
At least I think, I mean, we was drinkin’, which seems convenient
‘Cause either I’m mistaken or there were scenes deleted
Reason bein’ we all saw the title taken
And I was thinkin’, “Where was Liam Neeson? I ain’t even see him!”
Let’s just get this title shit out the way
I told him the title’s an idle thing
It’s the mind that’s behind the name
A promise that tides would change
Y’all saw the decline in weight
He went to bein’ less chubby but seemin’ less hungry
It’s not an unlikely trade
Now, brainstormin’ the past may warrant me askin’
If I should blame four-minute abs for the loss of his title chain
I know he ain’t morbidly fat, it’s not the topic that I would take
But either way, he shoulda made more of a splash
When he flopped and got his title waived
I bet you die a bit inside when I remind you of that night
Lookin’ this liar in his eyes, I see why at first this titlist declined a fight against Tyson in his prime
It’s no surprise to me
But really, you probably lost your car title too
Hey he had retirement in mind
But bein’ the higher driver of his entire crew
Went and lost his job title too
Now it’s stiflin’ his pride every time he gets denied
When he tries to get a ride
Listen, all biases aside, there isn’t a title that I could use
That would apply to you
I think blank when describin’ him, besides
That seems great, the irony you’ll find
Is untitled’s the only title he’s entitled to
Since he blanked with the title on the line

[Round 2: Bender]
Now I never had a chance to make it down to Florida
So I brought some Grizzle here to watch the place get outta order
I don’t need customs for takin’ out a foreigner
Hogtie this mogwai and watch this place get outta order
Chop his brakes like Dr. Dre
Head bangin’ off the dashboard all in fast forward
Have him smashed ’til his face don’t match his passport
Fresh Coast sucker, you can’t escape this house of horror
I don’t care if you got Portland, Seattle, and half the state of California standin’ waitin’ round the corner
And that pig you tryna wife up, she fed up wit your boring flow
She the sorta ho you catch Monday morning on the Maury show
I’m sorry bro
Your shorty goes to gloryholes in poorly woven orgy robes
Of course he knows how the story goes
When she’s snorting blow and cracks a forty O
Ness and Marv got her horny formin’ an Oreo, they linin’ for days
And if Corey Charron ain’t hit her wit a porno load then he lied to my face
She the fattest thing to ever get down low on a stripper pole
Hell, she even rocked that leather Snickers coat
From the ‘Smell Yo Dick’ video
He keep her dipped out, really though, she gets a nice deal
He’ll take her shopping for anything she wants
As long as it’s not a pair of high heels
And I’ll be the first to acknowledge, I felt your earlier projects
But you dumbed your shit down and that’s some curious logic
When you see your greatest strength as a curb to your progress
And the chance that if you pander you could firm up your pockets
To be perfectly honest, I thought you thirsted for knowledge
So when I heard the shit you workin’ on, it churned up some vomit
You got the nerve to think that you deserve some currency off this
Well go ahead and try converting Muhammad
‘Cause that’s a more likely chance of you turning a profit/prophet
And while you’re at it go pitch to a label
I don’t care how many peeps he knows or CEOs that sit at that table
He can’t get ahead with connections, ’cause he looks like a Mr. Potato
Ask this guy how many compliments, lies and empty promises
It took to buy the bulk of all those lines from MC Gottis with
It’s funny Mac, everyone’s always telling me that Mac is so deep
But when you’re standing at 3 feet how deep could you actually be?
I told y’all I’d beat Deep Blue in three moves
Camouflage your strength, that chess game is see-through
Your whole fuckin’ style is preschool
No wonder pedophiles get a sweaty mouth when they see you
You’ve kept this format fresh as a Jordache vest
Retreat to NORAD, this is where your warpath ends
And take cover when my swarm catch wreck
And stay put or we gon’ have your face lookin’ like a Rorschach test
Illmaculate: lil’ sack of shit
Share your place with Sharon Tate, I kill actresses
I will smack this bitch
When it comes to pussy I don’t pussyfoot
But your pussy look like it got a Wookie bush with a Snooki puff
I got this down to a science
Fuck what you call relevant, I’m goin’ for timeless
You a daily crossword, I’m God’s word on papyrus
Or set in granite, etched in tablets
Like ten commandments from the highest

[Verse 2: Illmaculate]
To tell the truth, I didn’t write ten commandments
But Toronto weed got me feelin’ like the highest
So maybe y’all weed is better, damn it
This the worst move that you pulled in years
Think I could be scared? I pull his hair
Slap him in his face and ask him, “Who you think’s the bully here?”
Shit, I’ll let him crack on my height and I won’t listen
I’ll even act like it’s tight and it’s so different
Till he goes to give me daps and I eye him and cold-diss him
Then he turns his back and a fan pushes him
While I stand behind him and low-bridge him
Say I switched my style up like that scheme mighta work
When your battle against Scott Free was three times as worse
Acting like his heat mighta burst
Pull out that big chopper and it’s drama
That’s my green light to murk
When I swing on him it’ll sting like when a beehive’s disturbed
Nah, what I meant, I’ma take a stick and beat the shit outta this piñata while he hangin’ from a tree by his shirt
Bully shit!
But hold on, let me switch the subject
I heard he was in his 30’s and that’s a topic that I didn’t touch yet
Figured I’d be more original plus he’d know the shit is comin’
So I wrote two rounds out-spittin’ him
Got to this one and figured: fuck it!
See, there’s nothin’ I can’t say when it comes to this man’s age
He’s already got one foot in the damn grave
So it’s no wonder his career’s on its last leg
Dog, you are Presence old, so I’m sorta confused
I don’t know if you have a time portal to use
But what the fuck, was this guy born in a pool of primordial ooze?
I’m sayin’, this dude’s wack as shit, here’s a few fashion tips
Buy some loose pants that fit
And quit tryna show off that new plastic hip
Witcha old ass, you don’t wanna go hand to hand
Plus your flow trash, mine’s so damn advanced I told battle fans
“No, Cro-Magnon man don’t stand a chance!”
Shit, we can talk about your clothes
That hip hop goth genre is so dirty
There’s not an anonymous class that could doctor your swag
You’re gonna have to try to quit Hot Topic cold turkey
I mean, we can talk about the choke
How your legacy’s comin’ all unglued
Looks like rubbin’ out to all them Pesci battles got Pesci battles rubbin’ off on you
And while we on the topic, I may just ruin ’em both
Like as far as losses—take this, two in a row
And ayy bitch, you don’t say shit, like y’all do when you choke
I dare you to bring up that Old Spice commercial
I fucking dare you!
We can even re-enact the scene
Picture a bathroom setting in HD on the plasma screen
I show up like, “Hello ladies—look at him, back to me!”
Who would you be more likely to oblige if they asked you to have a drink?
Look at him, back to me!
Fellas—reality or the battle scene, who would you rather be?
Look at him, back to me!
And ask yourself, who would have the faster swing if they actually had some beef?
Look at him, back to me!
Bring up Old Spice or any ad you’ve seen
I’ll give you the axe ’cause I’m a brute when I’m armed and hammered if we have to take it to that degree

[Round 3: Bender]
Now call this IRS evasion
‘Cause no one buys your records
Go and write a letter, sign your resignation
You tryin’ Bender’s patience?
Well I’m here to take aim just like a federal agent
On that tribe of rebel natives
Comprised of seven nations
On the Pine Ridge Reservation
Yes I saw your YouTube commercial, it was kinda depressin’
You dressed in drag sellin’ perfume in a desperate cry for attention
Puffy little bitch tits stickin’ out, your greasy hair flyin’
Holy shit, just imagine what this guy would do for some actual TV airtime!
Now you’ve developed a Southern drawl as you’ve evolved into this
Beast who’ll run up in the crowd and Ben Wallace that shit
All brolic and quick to ball up a fist to brawl with these kids
And as small as he is, some of y’all still fall for that shit
Like “Golly gee whiz, is he a rap nerd that ollies and flips?
Or is he harder than a clocker on the Baltimore strip?”
You choose between A and B whatever column you pick
He’s never been the genuine, had all his followers tricked
So when you see the collagen lips on this Hollywood bitch
Start to flap, bet your ass, it’s more false than legit
So little Oliver Twist can go swallow a dick
And get ready for the next set of balls on his chin
So let’s revisit all of that shit that Arcane said
It was you, not Pete, who tried to parley with Twist
You begged him for a solid on some knowledge to kick
And crawled away with the whole tourney as a result of that tip
See I don’t really know what your policy is
But that’s a bitch move I ain’t really tolerant with
Better fall back or crawl back while there’s a pulse in your wrist
Your glass ceiling just cracked and now the walls closin’ in
And it’s true Lush and them still owe you for more than a few bucks
And Cool Nuts ain’t do much to recoup, you got used up
They may have got you supper and kept your face feelin’ funny
But still played you like a sucker for a great deal of money
Picture Drect at his mansion with the revenue he stacked
While he’s textin’ you “Yeah Mac, I’ma get that to you, stat!”
‘Cause it ain’t really nothin’ to punk you
And that’s an understatement
If Mac said he ever pulled a heavy, this motherfucker was chubby chasing
So I’d say that it’s clear you ain’t gettin dough from battle rhymin’ stepson
If you faced all your fears to take what you’re owed they’d have your tiny neck wrung
Tryna make a career is taking its toll, you’ve sacrificed your best ones
‘Cause if I’ve wasted this year you’ve wasted your whole adult life and then some

[Round 3: Illmaculate]
You gon’ have to wait for it
Make sure that you’re fuckin’ patient
This battle was my idea, so if I was chubby chasing
It’s only on this one occasion
I mean he talked about the Old Spice commercial
I dared him, right? It’s all true
That commercial and this battle have somethin’ in common
And it involves you
‘Cause they both involve me takin’ a faggot’s wig off when the job’s through
See, I’m on some real ill shit, not the one to play with
Treat his head the same as a 40 bottle
You know, have it pourin’ on the pavement
And everybody he came with will shortly follow
I’m on my Kill Bill shit
Try to use that same “sorry player” corny combo
I’ll put your DNA on display like the Maury talk show
With a blade that was made by Hattori Hanzo
Once my blade is brandished
It’s bathed in a bath of flames to lash my victims
Instigating cataclysms, like if God has somethin’ to say to that He can get His angels branded with it
I don’t give a fuck if the angle’s sacrilegious
There’s no escapin’ the wrath that’s given
It’s painful to fuck with me, and this ain’t no sadomasochism
Tell me, where’d all the weight go that you’re missin’?
You probably chain-smoke, malnutrition
And the yayo that you’re sniffin’
Is why you make those brash decisions
He probably blames those mannerisms on the Anglo-Saxon in him
And don’t mistake those race jokes for the scapegoat that is isn’t
I ain’t no fascist, pimpin’
I’m who they show when Kato’s mask is lifted
Bruce Lee in plain clothes
Get your face broke quick as I get the case thrown, faggot listen
You wanna tango this ain’t no dance you gettin’
I bet you figured that, didn’t you?
Well let’s get it crackin’, I rigged the package, lit the fuse
When it blew, head removed
Bender fragments in a bag, limbs attached to tennis shoes
Dog, they won’t even get to wrap the interview
Wit how quick I snatch his silver spoon
I’ll kill his ass, I’m bananas and you’re just silverback gorilla food
Try to get stupid, mess up one round and you’re fucked
Any minor slips, boo him, so when this comes out in a month
You’ll see why this bitch losin’ without a rundown from the judge
It’s automatic, ’cause you don’t have the drive to stick to it
When it comes down to the clutch
What the fuck? I don’t see how he inspires y’all
Keep in mind he couldn’t hold the title long
Others rise and fall, I evolve
So tonight it’s not a fight at all, you vagina wall soft
Far as I can call, this the iron jaws of a lion maulin’ a china doll, dog
Try me, leave anybody in their bracket exposed
Make ’em share caskets with Loe
No, this ain’t a fair match
It’s a bare hand versus a bear trap when it’s closed
Yeah, you hear that? Your weird ass is a clone
Him and Kap Kallous could have a mirror match
Why don’t you give him that beard back that you stole?
He said he was Saint Peter the gatekeeper
A’ight, I’m St-Pierre, I’ll punch face features ’til I break fingers
I graze shoulders with great thinkers and gang leaders
So if he plottin’ a takeover I’m Nas when he made “Ether”
I’ll run up on his pig pen while he eatin’ out the trough
Feedin’ on his slop
Tell him MTV ain’t a fan of you and neither is the Dot
Then fill the magazine like the Forbes camera crew and you legally get shot
And nah, I ain’t name-droppin’ bein’ cheap to get some props
But shit, it’s a win-win so ain’t no reason I should stop
The whole world gets to witness me leave him in a box
Malaysia to Philippines, even Sweden’s in the spot
Dog, if we was in Australia I would feed him to a croc
And how sweet is it even the Englishmen’ll watch
As I run up on big Ben’ and start cleanin’ out his clock
So in closing, I’ma say that you’re too weak to battle me
And tell that bouncer that was puttin’ hands on me
If he’s so power-hungry he should join the police academy
And shit, he probably did, and he mighta stayed longer
But he got kicked out for takin’ a nightstick to a fuckin’ jaywalker
So really, I’ma tell you I have fuckin’ talent, dog
And if it wasn’t for real artists like us that bouncer wouldn’t even fuckin’ have a job

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