Protege vs. Bender [Lyrics]

[Verse 1: Protege]
This, trucker slash, lumberjack in his high socks who’s, pale as a plumber’s ass
Been cutting back on his stomach fat now he here to get a summer tan what the fuck is that?
But when he’s at McDonalds menus, his order’s bigger, than the command Obama issued which Langley also scheduled to track bin Laden’s refuge amongst the Pakistani rebels
See I got, Spanish torture rituals worse than Iraqi hostage venues
His rhyme book, just magazines with wet glue ’cause it ain’t got words cut out to take the kid like ransom documents do
Fuck any battle scar credentials, I’d leave this, animated man’s big body stencilled on Asian ground like when Family Guy gets pencilled
All I see is, Santa Claus on Red Bull
His date of birth, now that is confidential
He won’t recuperate, ’cause at this dude’s age if I punch his arm for his birthday licks it’ll give the area 51 like Groom Lake
I know this, senior citizen seems all primitive but he’s deeply sensitive
A sweet old gentleman, we took him to the beach to swim and he pulled out an easel getting emo sketching it
But if he gets violent, I might tell him pick on someone his own size
You ain’t double my whole age but I checked some of ya’ old rhymes
See I got a philosopher’s tone that made me immortal with flow and turned his junk to a goldmine
So you’re that, formulater of that corny ‘Sorry player’ who’s sorta lamer when my metaphors are tailored for your whole nature
Agent Orange sprayer, give this foreigner work like imported labor
You’re a dormant crater, that dude from Portland slayed ya’
You’re so old you used to ride a horse to theaters
You’re an order-taker for your hotel coordinator doing chores for paper, I’ve seen your past I’m Charles Xavier
Plus the future, check the rigor mortis later when I leave his floor and framework bloody like Dexter Morgan data
See you started this stupid trend like a Harlem Shaker
And you just got a taste of ya’ own medicine for that poor behavior Bender

[Verse 1: Bender]
It’s Russian roulette, and you just ran outta luck
‘Cause now the deer hunter’s here, I brought more bang for your buck
Now I put some weight back on, so after I abuse your set so badly I do expect they’ll stab me
So I could use the extra padding
I’m honest to God surprised that this bum didn’t no-show
I’m opting to cross some lines and hit son with some low blows
It’s ’bout to be a massacre, you lucky it’s promo
That’s no vote, got explosives laid and soldiers paid stationed at road blockades waiting to throw this lame Protege’s whole motorcade’s remains in a open grave baby that’s word to Governor Toto
Bozo rap won’t cover ya’ cost of living
You need to flip that top just to have a pot to piss in
You share one bunk bed in your mama’s kitchen with your grandpops and grandmothers half-sisters and brothers
Three aunts, twelve uncles plus your cousins and they all got children
See I could outwit and out-spit you puto
Shaking where you stand like the ground split in two Pro
Mouth bit off more than this clownfish could chew though
Now he feeling like he downwind from Mount Pinatubo
If P’s expecting me to treat him gently he ain’t ready quite honestly
The way I’m eating emcees in a feeding frenzy they would need to bring back Peter Benchley just to write my biography
Don’t even look at me trick just face the camera
You couldn’t control this mob if your name was Baby Ama
Anygma put that bread up for me to drag you back to hell
I woulda done it for the hate and a 12-pack of San Miguel
I, circled the earth to bring this first world homi
This work on me’ll earn you a spot in the urn johnny
I, murder ink for paper, his boys’ll wanna curb stomp me when I, leave this nerd’s body behind a shanty like Irv Gotti
Credit’s due now the repo’s coming, it’s time you come to terms with the repercussions
I’m your motherfucking father you a reproduction
Take notes son I just showed you how a real pro does it

[Verse 2: Protege]
Now since, Arcane gave those tits handshakes
I guess he figured he’d better lose ’em before both can lactate
But I’ll still call him an old bitch that way ’cause if he wants to beat me he better dig deep in himself like a PoRich catchphrase
Now you lost 90 some pounds first to dive in those trousers
Either you overdosed on those diet pills you buy off the counter or you got your belly sliced for a childbirth
But I know it’s from the lines of that powder that’s why you’re a growler
But you’re more like a big baby tryna shout words
I mean, the irony sounds worse the Tantrum you came with is harder than your violent outbursts
In other words, you got more stretch marks than track marks on a heroin addict
He ain’t scary rapping, this geriatric hairy fat kid would tear his back if he tried to carry Tantrum
You’re so old, in a few years all your hair’ll vanish and you’ll be in more need of a cane compared to Manaz
Protege stay savage, this is exclusive like a Kay Slay adlib
It’s mayday captain, your plane’s straight crashing headfirst like a Pelé backflip
You ain’t seen my A game at this
Get in my face like an enraged Tank Abbott but you come off more like a fake Sage Francis
I got enough, heat left in this light source to weather an ice storm I should be checked in a psych ward
I’ll cheat death from its tight jaws then strangle this beast’s neck with a mic cord
Start snapping on him like shutterbugs
I bet this, chubby fuck needs a tummy tuck ’cause that gut he struts got loose skin that looks like an undercut
I bet it also, doubles as an inflatable float when you go in the ocean
He hopes no one’ll notice
My crew’ll rip that spare tire off your waist then go on a road trip
‘Cause you lost more mass on ya’ Al, then Al Roker
Can’t tell if this man is a fat donor or has him an ab roller
All I know is, Alan from Hangover probably lives in a pad with a collapsed sofa
Now he’s not racist, and Filipinos got this once-colonized land working
So it’s funny, how we can still check this guy’s fat surface to find that white man’s burden

[Verse 2: Bender]
I was at the main bar getting a tonic
I felt a hand on my ass I grabbed his wrist, when I caught him
He made some bullshit story up about lifting my wallet
You’re Imelda Marcos, you get your kicks in the closet
See I ain’t really come here to kill him with kindness
He thought Duck Down is what they stuff the pillow he bites with
You listen to Frank Ocean with tissues and hand lotion
He’s been lonely ever since Abra sipped from that damn potion
So now his nugget’s swole enormous you can see it kinda wobbling
The fact that his neck can hold it now is a feat that quite astonishing
The reason why his body is seeming microscopic is because his bean’s the size of a Easter Island monolith
Ten metres high and three feet wide between the eyeball sockets if you squeeze inside that blind spot he won’t even find you lost in it
Jesus Christ that noggin’s nearly reached the size of the entire continent
So don’t be surprised when my team decides to redivide and conquer it
Throw knuckles up, I’ll tie [?] knots with those pipe cleaners
And burn your shack down, you just fucked with a vile genius
I’ll fucking brainwash your children to worship this white Jesus and trade ’em to a sweatshop for a fresh pair of Nike sneakers
Come on, I thought you was ready dog
We were supposed to battle in English, why’s this baklâ speaking bekimon?
You just got your ass murdered
I’m on top of the food chain like the Jollibee, now go fetch me a Champ Burger

[Verse 3: Protege]
Now, based from your appearance, you look like Hagrid from Hogwarts if he rapped like a dwarf lord
But I’d, ask him if he’s mastered the art form ’cause you still battle rap and you’re older than Gandalf from Gondor
But, FlipTop’s glad to be having him on board even if I’ll make his group Flight Distance end quick like a passenger Concorde
See your music, is great dog, but I gotta take arms like it’s customs
Wage war like a Muslim, this may cause a conundrum
You can get, chainsawed or be bludgeoned
See, we’re from a similar school of thought, in hip hop, but if we trade bars at this junction
I’ll strangle his face off with the same cloth we were cut from
Stretch out this pussy like a Pap test get your vag lips ready
He at the damn gym doing half-reps like ‘Do I have abs yet Pesci?’
And you vers’ Pesc’, that time when you both battled
I know you’re a better writer than Loe but you played a submissive wife with that role bad though
So, maybe you never cut the fat and your other half’s still hiding in Loe’s shadow
But for real though, crowds never slept on Bender
But he used to be even bigger than this, they all slept on Bender
Out of all the Beat poets you’re Allen Ginsberg ’cause you’re a fucking gender bender
No but for real, check his Facebook, he’s an actual painter
But I got the illest traits with a pencil crafting
I’ll start switching flows and flipping out like a chemical imbalance
I’m sketching a wrestling match of where, he gets a stroke, from a brush with death when his palate puts, red on the canvas
See I know this culture is getting older so when you’re sober think it over
You denied top tier cats to be here so I must be hella doper
That mass of crack that he does to lose fat and manage his gut made him sad and trapped in a rut
That’s why he’s only half the man that he was
He’s mad talented but, he’s addicted to an alcohol buzz
He’s exactly like Denzel’s character was in that Flight film, ’cause his career, could go places, but he’s crashing on drugs
So instead, Flight Distance will go to waste ’cause the fucking captain’s a drunk

[Verse 3: Bender]
He gassed up from all his prior engagements
I can only imagine the rush of power you feel from picking on blind Australians
Your last trip to Toronto, didn’t go quite like it should
Saw it live and you looked timid weak quiet and shook
Shit I was five feet from right where you stood and couldn’t tell if you were tryna battle rap or check a library book
You said Rone was just a talentless gimmick
You say bars over jokes is the style that you spitting
But if both break down your opponent tell me how’s it so different
That’s why your approach reflects your bank account, that balance is missing
I mean you a pioneer out here, been trying for years at this
I get this guy’s a lyricist but why so serious?
By appearances you looking uninspired and spiritless
So how the fuck you tryna step up to a god like Mayan pyramids?
Johnny boy I hate to say this but your girl been looking crusty
He took Andrew E. to heart, and went and looked for someone ugly
Fans see you with that aswang, how could they respect you
She’s so busted they had to ban yo’ queen from setting foot in the venue
I need to know what kinda drugs this guy is on
For you to hit that she must be one righteous broad
See her in a dark club and she might be hot
But when the lights go on she look like Vice Ganda
At least from behind she’s way cuter
But it really ain’t no secret half your teammates screwed her
They took turns to ride her like a V8 scooter
Now she’s got you scratching crabs like you’re DJ Qbert
And how you gonna son my fam when you ain’t armed with bars proper
Leave you on train tracks in Tondo for thinking that you are Papa
You’ll never write a chart-topper
You wouldn’t blow up in Makati with help from M.I.L.F. car-bombers
Punchlines leave your left eye twitching
You begged for them to fly me here ’cause you respect Flight Distance
So I ain’t sweating nothing from some chest-high midget born from the asshole of Manila’s red-light district
You could have me shot burned round stabbed through the chest
But Lord knows you better triple check that Rasputin’s dead
I put that needle to your vocals like I’m Babu then, flex
While I, slash through your neck like the Abu Sayyaf

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