DNA vs. Dizaster [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Dizaster]
You American faggot! Now after all the talk about how you would show up and never back out
Drake offered to put three grands on this battle to judge it
And you fucking backed out! Yeah, you little fucking pussy!
I’m in front of DNA, wow! No fucking way!
This gotta be my lucky day
I’m about to tie him to a leash in case he tries to fuckin’ run away
Yeah, the problem with you kids is that you lack respect
But fuck me over on money right now
And try to run out and I’ma snap your neck
‘Cause people know
That backing out of battles is not part of my plans
But you and Cortez always lie, so not to my surprise
All your alibis came as a bunch of unauthorized scams
Shit, even if I met you in the middle of the East
You’d find a way to say that I ran
But I’m from Los Angeles, I’m proud to say that that’s my land
In L.A. we support our home teams
We got a lot of pride, but goddamn
The way you ducked me in L.A. proves
You’ll always be more of a fan of The Dodgers than I am
You soft as hell, I’m not gonna lie, fam
In your battle with Rex, you almost copped a right hand
From Dot Mobb’s hopping hypeman
When Rex made fun of your retarded mother
I know you wanted to fight, man
But then they called the cameras off
And you walked off and called it a night, damn!
Sort of like when Eminem told you
“Lose yourself in the moment, you only get one shot in a life span!”
And you answered him, like, “I know, Slim!
That’s exactly why I’m gonna walk away from this mic stand!”
Your boy Cortez act on some G shit
We were supposed to battle here
He backed out, like, “I need more cash now.”
And that is some weak shit; he’s a sneaky latino
So I wasn’t surprised when I came to find out that he skipped
He was already flaking like a tortilla
So soon as I saw the guacamole on the side with the green chips
I knew it was only right that that bean dipped
It don’t matter what battling league you actually be with
If you gon’ be dumb enough to bite the hand that you eat with
At least be smart enough
To cover up your tracks and don’t leave prints
Someone call up Smack and tell him to cancel the field trip
Straps with the beams equipped
Like an active Marine ready to damage your queenship
Shells battering, the cannon ring until half of your team is seasick
The other half starts abandoning ship, panic and leap quick
In the same fashion that Hollow took his first chance to get green quick, turned his back on GT
Packed up his bags, took the cash and then he split
And the faggot hasn’t been seen since
It’s all a story that correlates if you go back and you read script
I use this all as a scenario to reference the battling scene with
‘Cause GrindTime is the ship
And this is bad as the Titanic sea gets
‘Cause without Smack you wouldn’t be shit but lost talent stranded across the Atlantic sea without a raft to compete with
I got the long nose like X-Factor
I’ll make the back of your Jeep flip
I said, you’d think we were playing Xbox together
The way I left half of your screen split
My guns are barely legal with magazines that’ll make this teen strip
That’s how you like it, right? Come back with a clean flip!
Yeah, I’m ready for the drama
Ain’t no question marks, I’ll rip your flesh apart like Jeffrey Dahmer
Let’s get it poppin’
I’ll take the beef and steady chop it like a chef from Benihana
Speaking of chefs, shouts out to Cortez’s mama
‘Cause I heard every GrandTime East Coast event
She be fixing Poison Pen his empanadas
Speaking of him, you’d have to pick up the phone and Pen will call ya, ‘cause you too busy slumped over in the bed with Hoffa
Holding hands with Hollow
We all know you were raised by Dutch Vega and Sara Kana
What’s the beef between us? It’s been a never-ending saga
I’ll leave you walking around with Bender’s suppressed persona
When I Sketch Menace your necklace off ya
[…] deadly waters
I’ll throw your body on the stretcher
And let the chopper off, boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-bah-boom-bah
And drop your paramedic helicopter
I do this for my fans, you mothafuckas ain’t shit to me
Are y’all kidding me? I’m fuckin’ bum-rushin’ the enemy
These knuckles will leave you bucklin’ instantly
I’ll fucking get 10 men to start punching you viciously
Uppercuts will leave your stomach in misery
Like muscular dystrophy
That’s for thinking you can come online publicly dissing me
You can pop your fists while I’m still crushin’ you physically
This shit is child’s play
You get ate side ways like the number infinity
I said, you need artist development
Before you come on the blog and then mention me
I’ll stomp you out and make you a part of this history
Don’t show me that, ‘cause this is about to be the bodybag of the century! Hold on! Hold on! You mothafuckas ain’t shit to me
They say karma’s a bitch, for you it’s probably dentistry
Because the part of your mouth that’s missing
Is only a reflection of what’s scarring you mentally
So the gap between your teeth
Exists merely as an object of imagery to distract you from the real gap between us—and that’s bars and delivery!

[Round 1: DNA]
November 5th… it’s ironic, you know, my father died on this day
And I can still remember him telling me
“Son, say what you mean, and mean what you say.”
See, I’m only 20, Diz
So in my past battles my emotions might have got carried away
That’s why I flew here to Canada
To make sure that won’t happen today
So when I grip the 9, rip your spine
Make your body rewind—man, I don’t mean that shit
I’ll probably never clap the shit out you
But trust I mean every word when I say I’ll smack the shit out you
The difference between entertainment and real life
Like, remember when I said I’ll fuck you up in Vegas?
Well, dependin’ on how this battle goes, I still might
‘Cause, see, I still might
Move back, move back, what are you doing?
Gettin’ in my face tryin’ to go crazy
Tryin’ to fuck me up when it’s dead time
When Drake’s here in front of the battle
But you ain’t gon’ make none of his headlines
What I was tryin’ to say was
That the difference between entertainment and real life
Like, remember when I said I’d fuck you up in Vegas?
Well, dependin’ on how this battle goes, I still might
‘Cause me missin’ a tooth only means
I’ve been in a real fight and got real stripes
So until you get tapped with a sucker punch and missing yours from an uppercut, then you know what this feels like
I took this battle for YouTube views, promotion and fanbase
So I made sure I’m well prepared
Knowing my name would be buzzin’ in Sweden
China, Switzerland, making them well aware
So once I get rid of this storm, and y’all see the weather clear
Just think about the end of every other natural disaster
You gone see DNA everywhere
Remember against A-Class when y’all was supposed to go 60 seconds, then on the day of the battle this guy switched it?
Then remember against Swave you had timed rounds
But he said fuck it and you wound up rhymin’ for 9 minutes?
Then against me, this guy told Lush, “I’m rhymin’ till I’m finished.”
Which only proves further you got a problem with time limits
See, you the snake that’s tryin’ to hide your rattle
Which only shows the Canadian Quarter
Ain’t the only bitch that flips when it’s time to battle
And that’s when I realized, hmm
You really got a problem with time
Like when you say you’re a terrorist and a hijacker, I’m not gettin’ it
‘Cause if you detonate a bomb
What you gon’ set the time to? Unlimited?
You really got a problem with time
I discovered something, Diz, while I was watchin’ your battles
And nigga, you have never wore a watch in your battles!
You really have a problem with time
It’s not opinion no more, it’s a fact, nigga
You do twelve lunchbreaks […]
Change times whenever you want with your hat to the back
What the fuck you think you now? Black, nigga?
Y’all all know, we really got a problem with time, but fuck that!
For the last two years you’ve been givin’ me the runaround
I managed to stay relevant
With every battle reaching over 200 thou’
You done the same, but your music’s trash
So the industry will never love your style
Which makes you a earthquake
‘Cause you always gone be a disaster that remains underground
See, you just an entertainer, Diz! In other words: a fuckin’ gimmick
And it’s for so long that the delivery can mask those fuckin’ lyrics
Your rhymes are put together sloppy and unorganized
That’s why besides GrindTime we ain’t fuckin’ with it
So battlin’ DNA will be the first time his verses have structure in it
So when you spit all aggressive with conviction
I be thinkin’ that you actually mad
And then understand why you hate us New York niggas
‘Cause he drive us around all the time in taxi cabs
Like his rap battle D, he’s supposed to be the big bad Dizaster
And when I see DNA, I’ma shoot him and let the 5th clap ya
I said “Dizaster, let’s fight!” – he said “Cool, I’ma bitch-slap ya!”
Soon as he hopped out the cab
All you hear on the radio is “Dizaster, it’s your dispatcher
Please go pick up Plex Rock and Lush One
And stay away from DNA, you know you don’t bust guns
You never touched drugs a day in your life or touched none
And hurry up, your mom’s calling, rents due, you must come!”
So when you squint your fuckin’ eyebrows
And spit with alllll that aggression
I almost think you might really bust your Glock
But then again we saw him against Arsonal
And you ain’t look too good with that fuckin’ shot
You gon’ try to rebuttal everything I say
Don’t act like you fuckin’ not, but it’s cool
‘Cause a good rebuttal only means I had to say somethin’ hot
So don’t be confused when he rebuttal every lyric I say
And think he’s clever with frees
‘Cause every time y’all cheer for that great rebuttal
You only givin’ credit to me

[Round 2: Dizaster]
Man, DNA, you are so fucking hood!
I’m gonna rebuttal everything you say?
Goddamn it, I didn’t even know I was that good
Shit, but fuck it, since he wants to talk about time
Then we’ll talk about time, when I roll up outside and hurt ya
But you’re DNA, you never click-clack the burner
You never commit the murder
See, I do what I want with the time limits
I’ll just extend them further: this world’s mine, I control time
That’s why they call me the Prince of Persia
But you wanna rebuttal too
I mean, you rebuttal’d your missing tooth
But that’s not even a rebuttal topic
I mean, you wanna rebuttal a missing tooth
Then make a CD, put out some music, get some money off it
Wait ’til at least you have one deposit
Go to your fucking dentist office
Write him a cheque with a fucking number on it
And if it makes you feel any better about the situation
You can write the word “rebuttal” on it
Homie, listen, it’s been since day one I ain’t liking you, dude
We can go outside right now and I’m fighting you too
It ain’t about punchlines, DNA
I’ll just display how I’m a better writer than you
So stop talkin’, pay homage, I’m spittin’
I solve problems, I’m an awesome magician
This street magic, I’ll make your beef vanish
Like hot pockets, ‘cause all of you chicken
I wanna squab with him, but if your squad is honestly trippin’
That car stoppin’, that Glock poppin’
Your top open like Top Ramen before you spark the ignition
I start boxin’, Bernard Hopkins
Your heart stoppin’, Chris Farley condition
[…] in an arm bar, caught in submisison
Now you lost in the mix, got a bunch of hostages with him
He tried hoppin’ the fence, it’s an impossible mission
I’m camouflaged in the trenches
Ready to penetrate your army’s defences
With these binocular lenses I have a prophet’s vision
Is that the hardest kid in your clique? I got a problem with it
‘Cause I’m the motherfucker, I’m what your role model isn’t
I’m the armed technician here to remodel your kitchen
With a bomb in it, the islamic edition
Part of your crib gone with the wind, shards of you missin’
Carvin’ your rib, disarm the opposition
Then plant the pipe bomb in the car engine
And have Queen Latifah set it off from the distance
My job description: I split wigs like a salon beautician
That .38 is Special like your mom’s condition
I know y’all have a problem with the retard jokes
But I only use them ‘cause he has something in common with them
‘Cause when he says he’s flippin’ to mingle
And he’s letting the machete spray
It’s not hard for us to see the retarded in him
I don’t give a fuck if y’all wanna donate to autism
The truth is — cover your ears, Bishop — the truth is your mom’s not even a good example of what being handicapped’s about
‘Cause she’s a master at that wheelchair
In that I wouldn’t have a doubt
Most people, getting around when they’re disabled
They find it hard, and you live in a massive house
But she uses the fucking hallways as interstate freeways
Where she gets off at the nearest living room exit
So she can take the fastest route
Weaving in and out of furniture traffic
She doesn’t even scratch the couch
But she’s kinda like you in a sense, ‘cause whenever she’s stuck in a corner she’s really good at backing out
Stop touching me! Y’all gon’ make a rapping discovery
I don’t even know how I can battle you so comfortably
I still can’t even believe this faggot’s in front of me
Everyday I wake up and I hit a blunt before I even wash my face up
Then I think about your genetic make-up
And how we can make up such a fake fuck
You pussy you duck hunt you’re getting duct-taped up
I’ll kill every faggot in your city, I’ll even fuck Mase up
[…] now, you’re on a one-way truck
About to get ran the fuck over over by a fucking one-way truck
You little fucking pussy! Your face is vaginal
Your mouth is like a vagina and in the center it has a hole
But fuck a camel though, you have enamel toe
It’s Dizaster, you know I act like a crude jerk
Your attitude is past faggot, dude
You got a gap in your tooth, gagged and you yapped on your new shirt in your battle with Tsu Surf
I react, I’m rollin’ fast, I let the tool burst
Kids will get hit in ass like the back of a Vatican school church
I take stacks off packages, this faggot don’t move work
The only cleaning his gap out
Is the only time he digs up or actually do dirt
Two thirds of his life has been a root canal
Conceited influenced you in style
Everything you about to do he happened to do first
Your foundation is missing
Like the roof of your mouth, that is what you worth
I would slap this dude around
But the fact is life is already battling you worse
And that is reality, I know it’s sad, but the tooth hurts

[Round 2: DNA]
Diz, you ain’t say one thing hot
You still ain’t say the fuckin’ truth; I’ve been in about 18 battles
And he still gone mention my fuckin’ tooth
And y’all gone cheer ‘cause you think it’s nice, people
But that’s wack, ‘cause its shit likes to go to the gap
Like white people — so why you gon’ keep freestylin’
Actin’ like you gettin’ it? Diz, you ain’t rippin’ it
Even your hat knows I’m gonna win
‘Cause it’s like Cleveland, you gone lose in the end
Then you wanted to mention my mom being disabled
That’s why I hate that you rap, b
You just […] placed in your rap, D
My teeth is missing and I got a face full of acne
When that steel flare
I bet all of these fans will cheer, like Drake in Degrassi
People are rappin’, you must be kiddin’ me
I’ll do you like Pun, have you dead in the middle of little Italy
Thinkin’ you can spit with me, you ain’t hot as humidity
So why would y’all give him props
For mention my mom with a disability?
I’ll go to your mom’s house, come through, smack her hard
Come through, see her right quick, then I snatch that broad
Catch her right in the kitchen while she’s eatin’ caviar
And put that bitch in a wheelchair out the blue like the Avatar
And this the point, see somethin’ somethin’
You think that you so nice, you little old clown
You rebuttal half lines, I damn near just rebuttal your whole round
This the point where I pin you down and have Organik hold you
Beat the shit outta you like your pops did when he disowned you
Give you the same treatment
That you did every time you was disloyal
But wait, before I do all that, I’ma expose you
Remember what you told Organik about King of the Dot?
“Your league is fucking shitty, bro
If you ain’t gonna give us the help in promotion and gettin’ dough
Then why the fuck you attach our logos
Against your bitch-ass videos?
Fuck King of the Dot! We technically invented you
GrindTime’s the prototype, we do what you pretend to do
I will never respect this chump!”
Now you over here two years later? I guess time flies loud
‘Cause if you ain’t notice
King of the Dot is shittin’ on Grind Time Now
And your last three battles been in Canada
So this league basically made you, bitch!
And you disrespected them in a battle? You ungrateful bitch!
You a faggot, I’m just tryna figure out what made you switch
I guess Grind Time held you down and then raped you, bitch!
I couldn’t wait to get in your face to tell you I hate you, bitch!
Flew all the way Canada
To put you in a wheelchair: Drake you, bitch!
They said DNA fell off, well, now I’m back — thank you, bitch!
But how’s his pop rich and you say you struggle, dummy?
You take battles for free but gotta pay bills?
I guess you don’t care about no fuckin’ money
For a couple of pennies he’ll be ready to travel
So it makes sense when you ate that sandwich versus SMP
‘Cause that’s the only time you had bread in a battle
Then you disrespected Jin and his whole race
But I bet you if you seen him you’d probably switch sides
And dick ride and be pole-dancin’
You whine and cry about every battle, I bet you have a fit
That you don’t get your way at your folks’ mansion
So it makes sense why you hate Asians
‘Cause you always throw tantrums
And everybody knows that battle versus Locksmith
That one counted, ‘cause you showed you hated Asians more
‘Cause when you choked you looked dumbfounded
“But if that’s too low, then turn the volume on your speakers up
Your rhymes is weak as fuck
Like the last time Redman and Method Man tried teamin’ up.”
And when he said that line versus Swave
At first I was like, “Woooh, damn, that’s hot!”
Until Method Man co-signed you
And you just disrespected a legend who gave you props
And then if you talkin’ like that, then of course he’s frontin’
There ain’t a course, I get him off for nothin’
This battle’s six days after Halloween
It’s ironic, ‘cause he already lost to Pumpkin
And he said, “In the MC book, when you fuck up you keep goin’.”
And in the eyebrow book, you keep shavin’ if they keep growin’
‘Cause I’ma keep it a hundred
My tooth’s missin’ and them eyebrows is real bushy
So King of the Dot, let’s keep it a hundred
One of us is lyin’ sayin’ we get pussy
When I run up on Dizaster in New York with a Knick’s hoodie
He’ll back down and get scared and get mushy
Okay, I lied, I see one of us does get pussy
But why do you keep on talkin’
When you act like you know you off the heat?
Me, right now? Nigga please! I’m off the beat
I’ll take your body off the concrete and throw it off the street
You got that dog chain on right now
But I’m the one that’s off the leash
So why you keep rappin’ like you be rappin’ when it’s dope
You a faggot, I’ll clap it, then jack it like your coat
You told Swave you pop the 9, show him like Columbine
You think that you, Blood? Stop it, five!
They brought this yellow tape here
‘Cause Organik knew it was a homicide
So don’t act like your raps is hot or you’ll blast the Glock
Time’s about to run out, you can have your knot
You have a problem with time
So you don’t know how to stop on time when your raps is hot
But this Caliente will make you die before the aftershock

[Round 3: Dizaster]
You dissed me about the Canada shit tryin’ to snatch my props
I think it’s funny how you have to mention Caliente and Aftershock
So you can ride King of the Dot’s cock
That’s how you fuckin’ get around, homie, I’ll stomp you
The only reason you mentioned Drake in Degrassi
Because he reminds you of your mom too
I’m basically nasty
There’s a couple of questions my fans have been waiting to ask me
Does she really look like Drake from Degrassi?
Is Cortez really on the sideline raking the grass leaves?
You fucking… you wanna get paid more guap now
You wanna get paid like an athlete
But you’re on lockout, ‘cause you stay in a rap league
That only caters to Math’s needs
When you left your GrindTime family you disappointed them
You made them regret the fact they ever let you join with them
No one forced you off the boat, bitch, it was your choice to swim
Now the only thing you’ll ever ever have in common with Poison Pen is the fact that you’ll never be boys again
You know what else rhymes with Poison Pen?
Umm, I don’t know, “backstabbing disloyal friend”?
When you say “bars over jokes,” why you gon’ pretend?
You don’t truly believe bars are better than jokes
You’re not keeping it a hundred and ten
‘Cause you switch it up to comedy too
I always hear laughter when your punches come to an end
Especially when you spit your gun bars
We all think you’re the funniest then
I mean come on, dawg, you really can’t fuckin’ rap with me
I can go off the fuckin’ top
And this whole thing will become a tragedy
Yeah, motherfucker, you ain’t wanna be the man right now
You fuckin’ can’t even see me, you can’t even stand right now
But I take care of my shit and I can fuckin’ kill you all
Yeah, you little fuckin’ pussy, I don’t feel you all
But since I’ma change up on this topic ‘cause I’ma kill it tonight
I’ma touch up on a topic about why you lie
And everybody’s gonna feel it, a’ight?
This is a topic I wasn’t gonna illustrate tonight
I think most of the time your brains wouldn’t be able to comply
But I figured y’all smarter generation are educated
And figured I wouldn’t be afraid to try
See, mainstream science is a bunch of manipulation in disguise
They blindfold you from the real truth
To distract you from a database they hide
Charles Darwin is a faggot who thinks we came from evolution
And later on we changed in size in a different phase in time
What I’m tryin’ to say to you is
Why would you believe in that and the Bible?
Those are all fairy tales, goodbye
‘Cause the truth of our genetics is written in the ancient scribe
Our bloodline was given to us from aliens
That came from spaceships in the sky
Now you’re wondering why I’m saying this
It’s ‘cause based on his name I can relate it to this guy
It’s all reality based, all in this equation still applies
‘Cause based on reality
Everything ever said that was about DNA has been a lie
I’m embarrassin’ y’all lames
I’m evisceratin’ your jaw and I’m tearin’ your small frame
Rippin’ your fuckin’ heart out and leavin’ it there in the car lane
You st-st-stuttered when you tried to mention that dog chain
You stupid fuck! You have terrible blog game
Yeah, motherfucker, the “true stories” you’re supposedly telling
They’re lies and they’re basically all lame
DNA hears a story one way
When it comes out of his mouth it apparently got changed
So you’re not DNA, they gave you the wrong name
You should change your name into the American Arcane
DNA! Yo, I’m DNA! Hold on! Hold on!
Now I’ma roll up and I’ma come with the 5’s and the 6 and the 7’s
Now when I go from 8, 9 and 10,t hat’ll mean you get hit with 11
That’s what you sound like: A, B, C, D, E, F, G
It’s always the same thing: if I bodied Rone and Rone bodied Okwerdz, then what does that make me?
Shut the fuck up! Alright?
You’re just an undercard to the main star actors
What you gonna do now that Smack don’t wanna pay off none of these maincard rappers?
What you gonna do now, huh?
Do like you did in Oun P and spit your little gay bars backwards?
What you gonna do?
Race me in a race track in a race car backwards?
What you gonna do? Come with the metal after you summon the devil from listening to a Lil Wayne song backwards?
What you gonna do? You wanna play that stupid little fuckin’ game, then game on, faggot
I’ll leave your little brain all trapped
Inside one of your own little gay 8-bar patterns
Like, go ahead, DNA, flip the word radar backwards!
Hold on! Hold on! I can do it, hold on!
So when I roll up with the AR and I spray off clappers
That’ll be the result of this battle
If you spell the word radar backwards
Wait a minute, radar… that’s still the same bar backwards!
Hold on, hold on! Now when I roll up with the […]
And I spray off clappers
That’ll be the result of this battle if you spell the word radar backwards… goddamn it, it’s still “radar” backwards!
Truth is, I’ll break it down for y’all
Since your boy Cortez, a.k.a. José, won’t explain this stuff
I was on the cell all day tryin’ to set up this whole thang with Lush
While you in the background with him
Doing roleplay on the phone hangin’ up
You think playin’ with my money is funny, I’ll blow this location up
And I won’t leave until I make sure your face gets crushed
Add more flame, I turn your torso and face to dust
More flame, the propane take your soul, raise it up
I’ll leave you fuckin’ clothes […] in your skull breakin’ up
And dislocatin’ your shoulder bone from your rotator cuff
You smile like you don’t use Colgate enough
Every couple of seconds when you’re rappin’
Your nose face gets touched
Like your tryin’ to point the way your cocaine is stuck
Or your just another faggot actor
Who thinks he’s soulmates with Lux
But Lux is the man… Syke, you’re both gay as fuck!
I’ll rip Hollow’s hand off
While it’s still attached to his foam paper cup
It was, like, six in the morning
I saw you and your little sister Jennifer Cortez sit on the corner
Holdin’ up a sign that said “For food we’re willing to sit on a boner
Polish a ball sack and suck dick for a quarter.”
And underneath it said “Please! All we had for dinner was yoghurt.”
Your little Smack gimmick image here literally won’t work
I bet Math used to punk you and make you finish his homework
This kid is like Conceited
Except he ended up hitting his growth spurt
Your boy Murder Ave doesn’t even exist, it’s not even a known turf
You guys are both nomads
The only home this ho has is literally his own shirt
Look at you rubbin’ yourself tryin’ to keep your composure
You ran away fuckin’ Smack
Because the events they had were bigger and doper
Always bitchin’ that Grind Time couldn’t give you exposure
So you walked around for like six months
With a chip on your shoulder, before you decided to jump ship
Hoping to get you a little bit closer
But swiffed out on our interest
‘Cause you were the diva that was tippin’ it over
And the sad part is all Smack had to do to bribe you
Was promise to put some rims on your stroller
They offered Cortez a new fisherman boat
So he doesn’t have to swim to the border
And Hollow Da Don got a brand new Nintendo controller
People always said your boy Cortez looked like Pitbull
And even though he’s the same identical poser
Now I believe he’s a pitbull
Since I seen him switch up on his owners
Listen here, bitch, you have a listening disorder
Your mission is officially over
If you think you gon’ beat me I’d rather hire Jin as my chauffeur
Yeah, I’m a F15 engine versus a 1960 Corolla
And you’re missin’ your motor
I’ll run up in your crib with them soldiers while you’re sippin’ a soda
Catch you slippin’, put you in submission and fold ya
Then jump up and put my kicks on your sofa
Like Tom Cruise did to Oprah
Yeah, what’s going on, pussy?
It looks like that type of shit you cannot respond to
You said on the track 1.25 seconds on your song
About your dad gone that you never clapped a revolver
Yeah, remember? One minute, 25 seconds
You looked up to the light and screamed out
“I’ve never touched a drug or busted a gun in my life!”
You never clapped a revolver, I’ll flat-line you
Snipe at your heart like the final boss you battle in Contra
So act like Manic, so act like Manic, I’ll pop ya
Give me that deadly stare, I’ll let it air
Leaving shells everywhere like Italian pasta
You roll with a pack of imposters
You don’t wanna scrap, I’ll pull a MAC and I’ll sock ya
Get bitch slapped with the impact of A-Class crashin’ his Honda
I’ll strike you faster than the Black African Mamba
And send your body bag back to Rwanda
Battling me is worse off than sharing a bath tub with Blanka
Or getting a back rub massage from Mortal Kombat’s Baraka
Your breath smells like asshole and cacka
You need to grab some Binaca
I’ll backhand you and I will damage your chakra
The day you beat me is the day everyone in Canada considers Sno an actual Rasta
What you know about weed?
Your whole life you probably only seen two bags of ganja
I’m a YouTube superstar, everyday I have new fans
From Deutchland to Jakarta, from Buktan to Combala
Dominican Republic, and Yucads in Cabanas
Kuala lumpur and Sri Lanka down to Sudan and Uganda
But all you have is two fans: you’re Kitana
I saw you wearing earrings that one day, fake-ass shits
Put on, probably put on, start wearing Prada
Instead of fucking worrying about what you wear
You should try and display some honour
You scared to come to California
Afraid I’ll put them Grapes gangstas on ya
But every time you rap it’s about how you bang your llamas
And how you give my brain caps and you be making trauma
And how your homies rolled around Vegas
And shut the whole baby down and start creating drama
But that doesn’t make you crazy
That makes you like QP’s baby mama
You never shot a gun in your life, like you said
Yeah, and that’s the reason why I’m having major problems
With the way you were brought up
But it ain’t your fault, that’s why I blame Madonna
Come on, dawg, let’s kick some facts and just be honest, huh?
You went to Smack, put up a stack and you peed on it
And that is a fact, I ain’t gotta actually speak on it
Far as your Facebook statuses, the average is three comments
You leave today with a stash in your jeans pocket
Then I’m smackin’ that green off it
You went to Smack, got jacked for your bread and didn’t […] demolish you’re average at best
And to add to that threat this MC’s polished
Fuck what this faggot just said, I rapidly clap with that lead
And rip a patch up the back of your head like Rasheed Wallace
Your mom’s fucking retarded, I mean it!
But it’s not the same, ‘cause she’s also a genius
She gives a lot of brain: she’s a quadriplegic
I don’t give a fuck about her eating problems
She can exercise some different feeding options
She can’t use her hands, they shake
So if she wants to have some steak, she puts the knife between her toes and uses her retarded feet to chop them
But no matter how good she gets at holding the silverware
She always seems to drop them
And then stands back looking at ’em
Like, “If only I had longer reach like Dhalsim.”
But I don’t want no beef, your mom’s a G from Compton
Any moment she might show up at King of the Dot
And get them heaters poppin’
So I better flee before she acts like Stephen and brings the hawk in
You rapped about your dad in the beginning
That’s some shit I wasn’t gonna say
But I’m an evil motherfucker, so all that shit you were talking about, I think that shit is gay
Yeah, I will fly him out of his casket and I’ll slump the faggot
I’ll fuck your mom in front of her and I’ll soak the mattress
Then I’ll throw the broken prophylactic on his open casket
I will forge a stack of boarding passes
Get on board a Concorde and crash it
Into an overpass during morning traffic
Who said that? Come on! Admit it, homie! Speak up, brother!
I’ll go back there right now and I’ll fuck your mother!
Callin’ fuckin’ Organik like he fuckin’ owes you somethin’
Motherfucker doesn’t owe you nothin’
‘Cause you don’t know nothin’ about strugglin’
Look at The Saurus and Illmac, yeah, look at The Saurus, cousin
They’re battling for pride
If they lose today they’re going home with nothin’
But you’re too much of a pussy, a battle you won’t go judgin’
You’d rather be a fuckin’ homo and just vote on public
Yo, who the fuck is talking, bro? Yo, who’s talking?
A’ight, I see you’re offended because his mom is being brought up
Okay, that shit is some harsh stuff
But this is battling, what do you expect?
This is the type of shit that pops up
What? What?! Y’all fuckin’ mad his mom is brought up?
I don’t give a fuck if they have special needs
They got all types of foundations to get their guap up
I don’t know about y’all, but
I’ve already donated enough money from my heart into that large cup sitting at the counter in every single Starbucks
Fuck you! Don’t ever fuck up my battle!
I’ll pick up your bitch and I’ll hump her like my camel

[Round 3: DNA]
Did anybody see who he was talking to?
No! Me neither, so why’d y’all think that was hot, y’all?
‘Cause you looked up there for five seconds
And talked to something unknown, like a blocked call
So, Diz, why do you think you getting hot
And, like, you gon’ grip a round?
Me, DNA, I’m in Canada my first time, I’ll rip the town
Show you how I’m the illest
And I’m the realest with the sickest sound
He kept mentioning Hollow, but it’s like his battle with Hitman
‘Cause when I pull it out I won’t miss the pound
See, if y’all really think about that
Now I’m gonna try to stay calm and keep my cool, b
But I’ve been watching King of the Dot battles
And I saw a dude that had potential we would soon see
And I don’t like bringing up people that died usually
But truthfully, this faggot should’ve died instead of Bruce B
You’re not a shot buster, at Blockbuster you wouldn’t move E
You dick ride and switch sides, you a groupie
I don’t know that much about Canadian change
But I tell y’all truthfully
I know for a two dollar coin he’ll be on his two knees
So, Diz, why would you even start though?
You act like you gangsta and you tough
Like you got the heart though
You a bitch, I’ll have more whips at your house than a car show
Smoke him down, just like a Marlboro, never at heart though
Since he think he street in Canada
If it’s war, then I’ll mark him and leave his face with a scar, bro
Dizaster, I have a question: why do you rap like this?
You spit no punchlines, but do all of this
Why do you act like this?
See, you wanna act crazy, like, you could stop with this
This isn’t a battle of battling
This is a battle of Dizaster battling Alcoholic Anonymous
He’s standing here in front of Organik
Thinking that he’s the rapping answer
And I bet you wish you can get a disease
So you can battle cancer
You think you’re so nice so you can rap for weeks
Dizaster has insomnia on purpose, so he can battle sleep
I bet your grandma’s 97
And listens to “Arab Money” to get her party off
You make bombs so much you wake up to car alarms
If your man’s name was Puff Daddy
Then you’d suck off Sean and John
I show up to your mom’s house
With pepperoni on a Papa John’s
And take it back when she opens it and tell her it’s ramadan
So, nigga, why you acting tight?
I heard they sling out here in Canada
I seen today you stayed calm, you ain’t vexed
But how the hell you ever expect to be the King of the Dot?
Nigga, you ain’t Rex
See, y’all don’t get how I can switch that, nigga, when he’s next
I broke that down, King of the Dot, Dot Mobb, T-Rex
Oh, see, y’all might not get that with that bar
Matter of fact, uhhh—that was okay when I make rhymes
But I bet you get the bar
When I let off this gun and let that K shine
Ran into his crib when I set you off with that burner shoot
And after that you get murdered
And murdered even worse just like Murder Mook
So why you keep talkin’ like you the best, cuz
Now I’ma get on some other shit
Disconnect your body, they won’t find where your head was
Now they over there with the morgue
The doctors don’t know where your leg was
Your family come and try to see you in the morgue
And they don’t know where his head was
Now, you looking, he’s just a John Doe
So when his DJ goes to make a “best of…”, they gon’ have to put a question mark in front of his name, like ?uestlove
Now we here in this battle, Diz, so say what you say now
If you act up, then come through, I’ll let off that tre pound
Why talk about a gun
When I got dawgs on each side, like Greyhound?
Beat you up to the part ’til you can’t even stay now
You won’t have a future, like that nigga from 8 Mile
Run around with the sixty
And leave your body on the playground
They’ll be nothing but your soul left, just like James Brown
Pick him up, snuff him
And watch me spin money online, like PayPal
And he still gonna try to rhyme
‘Cause he gon’ act like he’s better
Dizaster, you think you so tough with these bars
But I really don’t think you better
You can never come through and act like you fresher
I found out that his sign’s a crab
Which means that he’s a cancer
And that explains why you always crack under pressure
So, Diz, why you gon’ act like you goin’ when it’s hot?
How can you respect the nigga
That disrespect the dude for making a song for his pops?
But he gon’ act crazy like he fear harder
But since you mentioned my dad, you reminded me of him
‘Cause after this, y’all won’t see your career goin’ farther
So why you wanna act like you step beat fast?
Nigga, I pop and leave, like dead beat dads
And then he wants to talk crazy
Like you come through and smash your men
If I could do this then, Dizaster, we’d fight
And I’d beat up this fag again
I heard Hollohan’s in jail, that’s all cool
I wish he could be here to rap again
But if y’all all know the Bible the only way God can come back is when the disaster end
So how you think you dumb funny?
How you just say I was scared to battle for three stacks
But then you came at Drake? That’s why you got young money
And you never have cash when you grippin’ it hard
So, nigga, I’ll blow your brains off, then blow your other brains off, then blow your other brains off
And keep changing wigs, like Nicki Minaj
It doesn’t make sense, Diz?
So why you think that you straight hotter?
If I don’t know what I’m saying when I don’t make sense
Well, nigga, you don’t make dollars
You never had money in the rows when know I’m getting silly
If this don’t make sense
Then how come we only battled for $750?
Now come through when you act like you crazy
And you fuck with that; tell the truth, Diz
We could’ve battled on Smack for double that
But you tried to do it here at King of the Dot
And I said, “That’s cool, I plan it.”
‘Cause you never get nothin’, you never act up and blam it
You’re a waste of a nut
You shouldn’t even belong on this planet
And, truthfully, you should’ve got fucked up
By the cops instead of Organik
So why you keep acting like you so tough
Like you can spray shells?
Aw, you’re yawning while I’m rappin’
That’s all cool ’til I spray well
You think that I can’t do what you do
I can do it better when I Raylell [?]
Just think of this battle with the L.A. initials backwards
‘Cause that’s what he’s leaving with: a L
See, Diz, you wanna keep rappin’ crazy
When you try to act like you flow like best
But you can’t come through, nigga, I put a hole like chest
Now I ain’t even come through to rap with it
I’ma show him how Smack and quick
Gon’ dap this bitch after that I clap the clip
He keep movin’ his head back until I smack it quick
You a faggot that I never come through and dap you, bitch!
I’ll run up in your crib, real too, and smack it quick
And shoot him while he’s writing with his pen
Now that’s how you air a bic
And that was a half punchline, that ain’t even the half of it
Now I’ma switch up and talk to this nigga in Arabic
Hedat, your family told me you’re a maniak
There’s a thousand words in the Arab dictionary
But my favorite one is Eddifat
Ella Stasi, ‘cause these dudes wanna keep talking with the clip
But after that I’m like “Pulla Misha Marka!”
‘Cause that means you’re a bitch
And after that I’ma say “It’s getting hot in here.”
And Ik Fala Watchi! Y’all know what that means in Arabic
Get him the fuck outta here!
So why this dude acting up like he playing with me?
Oh, you thought we was in Canada
So they wouldn’t say it with me?
Nigga, please! Why you play inside?
That slogan is like Boost Mobile, that shit’s nationwide
So why you acting crazy with the best shell
These clips will make you sprint
And find your body in the next tell [?]
Why you keep talking like you bet for sure?
Oh, you know about the hotels we in?
You on the 6th and I’m on the 7th floor
That’s cool, nigga, so stay up
After I blast with the shell, I hate to leave him on the elevator
‘Cause he’ll be going on his way up
So you keep rhyming, Diz
Keep spitting all these bars when I clap ya
Acting all hard, but see, you not a real dude, you just a actor
It doesn’t matter what you say
‘Cause you’re gay and you just a actor
You can’t do what you do ‘cause, nigga please, I’m the pastor
Break you down [?] crumble you’re body like Ritz crackers
‘Cause I got a question y’all: what’s a disaster to a rapture?
He can’t move it on that blink screen
You so stupid you can’t do what the blinks, D
I kill him in fucking 7HD, a HD, come through
Turn his body soul, rip it apart and have it lookin’ like gangrene
Fuck up your soul, have your body lookin’ like brinkscreen [?]
I’ma teach your old teacher stupid I make greenery
So after I do that when I spark fiends
Shoot him in his pockets with money
And you gon’ see that wall green
And after I do that on a nice day, hit him with that nice tre
Then doctors and paramedics
Gon’ be having to find the right aid
‘Cause I’ll run up on that whip, when I’m steerin’ now
I see that he’s fearin’ now, I clear the town
Bishop Brigante ratchets
I shoot it in your face and tear that mirror down
You clear the town when I’m offin’ the dome
‘Cause right now, please nigga, frees, top of the dome
I come through—fuck that!
Like you said you always talk about poppin’ the shone [?]
But after I shoot I’ma have to off his top, like Charron
And he keep thinking he coming praisin’ when you on that
You acting like you can freestyle
And rhyme, nigga, like you move on that
You say that you like rhyming nerdy
But I don’t get it when you cool on raps
‘Cause every battle you have with a street rapper
You talk about guns like you on Smack
So, Diz, how does that make sense, when it’s so lovely?
You said that you didn’t shit on King of the Dot
And now it’s so lovely
Now you gon’ try here get in my face and try to punk me
So let’s break it down
On exactly what he said about this country
Nigga, who are you airin’?
You just stand six feet tall and didn’t do shit
Nigga, who are you scarin’?
Like, what’s wrong with this dude?
I had to tell him five times and maybe one time?
Like, we know, you know, we both freestylers
So why would you do that? So I can make a punchline?
Like, I don’t get it when I blam it
Now back to what I was talking ’bout with Organik
Like I said, right? This dude gon’ act like he’s on his grown shit
When I mentioned King of the Dot, you should’ve said something, but since you didn’t I’ma rebuttal your own shit
Like when I said you disrespected King of the Dot
And that was lovely, then you should’ve replied
Well, then Organik disrespected our country
And that’s when I would’ve told you
I’m disrepectful for spittin’ in your face
But I got more respect for Organik
‘Cause at least he did it in our face
And you pussy, you never hold the 9 and spray
Like when you said “Canadians are faggots!”
“Canadians are faggots!”—you did that shit miles away
So now that we here in Canada
And you said they have no military, they have no healthcare
And Canadians are faggots—say it again, Diz!
(Diz: DNA’s a faggot!)
No, say it again, Diz, about Canada!
(Diz: Canadians are faggots! Boo)
Diz, what’s going on here? Things startin’ to change
You see you’re on your way now
You heard all them boos, you kinda looking like me on 8 Mile
But now he acting crazy when he’s poppin’ it nice
You tried to talk about me with Eminem droppin’ the mic
But you think it’s all cool, somethin’ somethin’, the best in?
Well, you just booed in front of the same presence
In front of a worldwide legend
So, like I said, say Canadians are faggots again!
Repeat that! Exactly my point
He ain’t do it this time, because, to me, I mean that
So why he keep acting crazy?
Acting like he all tough blammin’ a razor
I just came to King of the Dot
And got rid of Dizaster—I’m Canada’s savior!

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