Eurgh & Cruger vs Bender & Loe Pesci [Lyrics]

[Verse 1: Bender & (Loe Pesci)]
Now we the paparazzi, (making you bitches crash like Lady Di)
You scared inside (your hair goes white), you need that lady dye
(You bet ya’ life, it’s a man’s game, you roll with lady die
So if you roll like lady die), your car might roll like Lady Di
Catch me on a roll, (you ladies die
You might suspect that we trolling and just wasting time
This is the face of a man who gave up cash and paid the flights
For two assholes who brought 80 lines ’bout Lady Di)
And looking at that face I think he mighta changed his mind
(Now if Lady Di had stayed alive-) Nah come on he broke the bank for this fight
(He was anxious to write)
Both their [?] gave us badge, (each)
Now we plan to get right
(We don’t care if anyone at ringside knows)
We brought strictly inside jokes
(So if we the only ones laughing all night), that is alright
I don’t care if you catch one line, (faggot, thanks for the flight)
I’m a hater, (I hate Eurgh
And I don’t know if he still with his girl, but I hate her
He doing way worse since he hit Vendetta to throw down
You may a’ edged DNA in some close rounds
But I decapitated that queen’s head in his hometown
It’s back to Loe Henry VIII, OT for Tantrum Pesc’
Take that Kung Lao fitted, and throw it at his neck)
See this is Rowan’s last event I swear he won’t be back again
He just limps into the future when we stone him half to death
Now you’re the only battle vet that’s got post-traumatic stress just to know what happens next even though it hasn’t (yet
You greedy sack of shit, he gets annoyed real fast
But yo, motherfucker we know that you gon’ be here with your broke and annoying staff
So battle events are temper tantrums), you throw the biggest in the U.K
*Both* It’s your Fifth Birthday, of course you gon’ act like a spoiled brat
(And your battle with Illmac, it’s like you was in a foreign place
You collapsed when the pressure kept rising like) *Both* mortgage rates
(Now when you in Westminster, and drive by that street Portland Place
You see Greg’s short lil’ face)
And before that day, (you was arrogant like ‘ho, please’
But now this sucker is reluctant to even battle in his own league)
We treat Rowan like roe and roll him up we here for sushi
(See Eurgh chin split in half then scoop out a piece of uni)
You make Kanye West look humble, what’s gotten into this guy
Watch during the title match, (he’ll get that jealous twitch in his eye)
He’ll push Chris to the side, like ‘I’ma let you finish your line
But my third against Pumpkinhead was the greatest shit of all time’
(He always keeps this piece of shit by his side, relying on teamwork)
But forget him for now, (we’re here to see), are you G (Eurgh)?
Spell it out, you hear that (C)-R-U-G-(er
We did not even come here with the intention to spit the illest verses)
I just came to tell the pretty version of Mickey Worthless
(But seriously though guv, you’re a really fucking shitty person
You’re a cock-dibbler, it doesn’t matter
You’re just here to fucking get on one knee and ask Freddie Scott-Miller for his fucking wedding finger)

[Verse 1: Eurgh & (Cruger)]
You gotta understand how I’m repping this way
It don’t really matter if the fucking flights I get you are paid
‘Cause I might, reach for the fucking machete today and, fuck tryna edge DNA
I’ll put Pesci’s DNA on the edge of my blade
And don’t make me angry
‘Cause if you had a blade, it’d be one of them fucking pussy ones that Sikhs carry
And he said that I’m as arrogant as Kanye West, I think you got the wrong guy
‘Cause you would run home straight away, if he put a picture topless online
But who’s happy to see us battling? They’re like ‘What took so long?’
It’s only been like what, two years, they think our foothold’s gone
So using these two, as punching bags, what really could go wrong?
It’s a Ralph Lauren sweater, I look good if I put Loe on
(And your name is Bender, how could you call that your name?
All I can say is that’s almost as gay as having another man’s balls in your face
Imagine a guest list to a club, they’re crossing off names with a pen
‘What’s your name?’ ‘Bender’ ‘Pfft, say that again’
They allow him in, he’s tryna find a chick down with him
You say you’re a rapper from Canada, think how she’ll cringe
Then you say your name’s Bender and she spits out her drink
‘Cause you’re in England I think you should switch names now
But your real name’s Alex, so even then you’re Big Gay Al)
Your real name’s Alex? Nah I’m joking I ain’t really got bars for that
But your surname’s Buchanan? I could really have a laugh at that
You’d probably suck my dick, I wouldn’t ask for cash
If I’m talking head you’d kneel Buchanan, Art Attack
And if they’re a gay couple, you’re the bitch, and you’re the butcher Bender
Plus you look like a statue, I seen outside a butcher’s Bender
You were bars and flows, now it’s how you spark the chrome
Your printer running out of ink’s the only time you seen a cartridge Loe
(And Daylyt wiped the smile off your face with the ball sweat he wiped across it
You got punked with his sex pistol, but never mind the bollocks
You thought you had some style but nobody likes this prick
You’re a sundial, Daylyt had to mark you out to show you what time it is)
So you know when you go to airports, you always get them same guys
Who wait by arrivals holding paper up with names typed
Well when I went to Heathrow, to go collect Daylyt
Pesci was stood right there holding a ‘No Ball Game’ sign
(Nobody knows after that battle how he’s been
I can’t tell if it’s tears or ball sweat traveling down his cheek
Ever since then, when he’s having chowders he
Sits curled up in a ball crying, with his hands around his knees)
Now referencing battles in battles is wack, but this’ll be fun
He’s had a couple sick performances, I’m reminiscing on one
Remember that old clash where Mischief got punked
Instead of spitting his gum, he took it out with his finger and thumb
Now listen, rap battle events, germ transmission is done
How many wash their hands after pissing, realistically none
So doing this with your hand, simply becomes
He’s putting three hundred other dude’s dicks on your tongue
So you put a load of dude’s dicks, on your gums essentially
Then another man’s balls, got rubbed on Pesci’s cheek
So if you talk all of that, add it up collectively
You have gradually sucked a dick, unintentionally
(For that one moment you’ll forever be a joke
He wiped ball sweat on your face, that’s sexual assault
I think you kinda liked it ’cause you never hit him so
I’m mentioning you both when I say he’s a bender on the low
I know you’re jealous of Charron, but Pesci let it go
You hate that he’s got Arsonal, but it makes sense that’s who he chose
You wanted to be the one getting Smack rappers, but you ain’t ever getting close)
Nah nah nah, apart from, him versus T-Rex, (yeah, when he never showed)

[Verse 2: Bender & (Loe Pesci)]
(When you went to the airport yesterday, you see Loe
Daylyt landed but never connected at Heathrow)
Cruger, you look like, I’m on acid, this is visually strange
This ugly mug’s making me question, if I’m clinically sane
You look like the infancy stage of a squiggly face, drawn by Richard D. James after he binged for three days
(This outcast got a babyface)
Yeah, of a baby made during incest that died of crib death in ’88
Now, that head on that body’s so awkward I swear he’s built
Like if you lift his shirt you see a couple of toddlers on a pair of stilts
(Now here’s some facts there’s no escape from
He’s overrated and no one rates him
He’s overpaid and no one pays him
His shoulder blades are bony raisins
An athlete is what he hoped to be, to reach the Olympics was his golden dream
But with noodle arms like that, how the fuck are you on Rowan team?)
So get the ambulance ready for this strand of spaghetti stand up against me I’m landing a heavy smacking you Freddie
I can’t wait until your new album’s packaged and ready
‘Cause that’s bound to be a classic, like Matter and Pesci
(What the fuck? Yo I’m using this here check to pay my rent
Bender, how come you haven’t gotten paid a cent and swear to God that you versus Bamalam’s a main event?)
Face it Fred, you look like a Mongoloid when you read your verses
(But he’s even worse with picking up girls than Stephen Merchant)
You well-known maybe, (but you say ‘Hello ladies)
They look you up and down like, (‘Hell no), *both* pay me!
(You got fame in Britain Fred, how come you haven’t rocked no bitches yet?
When we describe you’s the only time you got a little head)
And your crib is fresh, shit you could afford a timeshare, (and flight fare to fly there)
Like two [?], two pence for every girl who said (‘Freddie, you’re in my nightmares’)
Last time I went to his town, here’s how the visit went down
Specifically how we dropped by in his crib for a spliff and then we bounced
Me and Osa went to Camden, for some pitchers of stout
Sipped a few rounds, and shit I guess the kid just blacked out
I dipped by myself, crawled back into ya’ house
Through the window and crouched
I fucking took a shit on the grout
You were scared of what would happen if you tried kicking me out
(So you let him sleep it off), and I pissed on your couch
(He wanna swim with adults and his aqua mates
When that spaghetti house), mash his plate
(Get your meatball fried no pan or baked, you his lanky slave
That’s the last straw no pistachio taste
He just stand there while his master shake)
This man’s a snake, (he slither in the shadows
His loyalty ain’t shit since the story’s been unraveled)
Since the scandal went international, his rep has been in shambles
(You think his interview on BBC was really [?] for British battles?
You musta switched the channel before he snitched and tattled
No one gives a damn that you were getting hassled by Jimmy Savile)
You’re not even his type potato face, (he just pity-banged you)
Let’s move to the subtext of your musical subjects
(Mutants and bloodshed?) Users and drug dens
(Ghouls and the undead?) That’s cool but what’s up Fred?
(You used to love puppy dogs), and beautiful sunsets
His group’s Unusual Suspects, it’s you and some fuckhead
(How is it?) I don’t know I never checked it, I just assumed it was dubstep

[Verse 2: Eurgh & (Cruger)]
Early in the round, you said some wack multi about landing a heavy
That’s a nickname for you at a swimming pool when you splash on your belly
And how you gonna here to England, rapping about BBC?
Forget about it, BBC, yeah, Bender’s Brown Chick
(And it’s true, last time in London you came to my drum for a short stay
Bender came straight from the pub in a sore state
This fuck couldn’t walk straight he was drunk in my hallway
Passed out like a Snorlax stuck in my doorframe
Now you’re a painter, and they’re often alcoholic so it’s no wonder he draws great
But being an embarrassing drunk is just one of his poor traits)
Halfway through your last round, your face suddenly froze
So yeah you’re a painter, you look like you’ve had brushes, with strokes
An artist? Please chill, they ain’t selling for three mill’
Your paintings look like that one that got fucked up in the Mr. Bean film
(You think you’re known but no one knows ya’
You look like a member of La Coka Nostra if they were broke and from Nova Scotia
Loe’s a choker, think he’s gonna be dope but one choke and the show is over
You see Loe go red like Vodafone and Coca-Cola)
I ain’t seen Kumar choke that bad, since he hung with Harold and smoked
A round is wasted ’cause of the impact it has on your flow
Around his waist is where my, arms go like the manual shows
But this ain’t first aid so there’s no pats on the back if you choke
(‘Cause there’s been so many battles you forget all your lines in
People think of you whenever there’s silence
Forget battles you’d be better at miming
‘Cause we see you freeze on camera like the end of The Shining)
And now he’s behaving like a diva, choking every event
Disrespecting those that came to it to see ya’
He forgets everything like he got wasted on tequila
And now you lot are paying, for amnesia, like you’re raving, in Ibiza
(You pulled out an umbrella against Syco, what a nasty prick
It’s bad luck to open up umbrellas indoors: that’s probably why you choked in every battle after it
You put the ‘um’ in ‘umbrella’, and it’s only proof
That what goes around comes around, and you know that’s true
‘Cause Daylyt put an umbrella in your face, that was overdue
It’s funny you were tryna be the Penguin, and now the joke’s on you
And you’re so Asian-) Woah woah woah woah woah, that ain’t something we’re supposed to diss
(Nah nah nah, you’re so Asian-) Bruv why you acting like a total prick?
(You’re so Asian-) Bruv how many fucking times have I told you this?
I can finally do Asian jokes, and I’m gonna fucking make the most of it
Every time I order a Indian dish
It would be nice to know what the meal was when you deliver the shit
These lazy fucks just initial the lids
I wanna know which tin is which, not what your fucking signature is
I could go to Canada, go anywhere when I land
And not get shook, like John Terry’s hand
But England’s got you sweating fam
Forehead looking mega damp
I can see oil over the red dot like I’m cooking with a Tefal pan
(It’s Bender, and Bengali)
No no no, is it Pesci, or Peshwari?
(Bender likes to drink to forget his past
But you forget if you drink to forget you drink or drink to forget you forget your bars
This guy likes his liquor
Rum, whisky, white wine and spritzer
And that’s probably why you like Pesci, ’cause he’s pint-sized and bitter)
When we went to LA, he was hammered and out his skull
Acting a clown, drunk, staggering ’round alone
It was embarrassing how you were slamming ’em down your throat
We went to see Dizaster, with Canibus, but you had one with alcohol
Now Pesci’s Indian side, probably wants to spit in my Subway
Pesci’s Malaysian side, wants to charge me for tap water at a buffet
Bender’s a drunk state, I bet he isn’t even sober now
Pesci you’re a snake charmer, why can’t you make him put the Cobras down?

[Verse 3: Bender & (Loe Pesci)]
(Yeah when I deliver the food to your decent apartment
They’ll be Daylyt’s ball sweat in the tikka masala
Now since you wanna bring up Asian jokes, our people, ’bout to treat your people
Like their people, treated our people)
And our people, ’bout to treat your people
Like Benny Blanco, treated *both* Carlito
You had sleepovers all month, taking breaks between the sex to write
(We wrote this shit on the plane), you booked us on separate flights
(Now we came here to Leeds to diss you)
The moment your league’s official
(Me and General Bendinochet stage a coup on the league officials)
You naturally tryna be Organik, (reaping all the seeds he’s sown
So what your league has grown with green?) Just shows exactly what your GM owes
(I remember like it was yesterday, PVP was at a jamboree in Rome
Avi was watching battles on his phone
Organik was sitting on his canopy at home
Conference call, ‘Calamity, your brand is being cloned’
Now me and Diesel grill you back and forth like Hannity and Colmes)
And battling needs you shitheads like Matter needs a comb
You openly brush off your up-and-comers and shit
(Way to run a league, you) *both* lovable son of a bitch
(You’d swear Eric B. and Rakim were up next with all the names you pull
But it won’t happen, ’cause in Don’t Flop nobody ever gets paid in full
Now you think because your league is successful now we need to respect you?)
You think you’d pull a crowd like this for Tony D versus Tenchoo
It’s us international battlers that you need to attend to
Without us, (they wouldn’t give your ass the keys to the venue
We been doing this since the pharaohs), you goofy kids are in peril
(You tune your visions too narrow), you two go fishing with arrows
(Got [?] fishing apparel), we shooting fish in a barrel
(Nah we too efficient for that), stick a tuna fish up the barrel
(Act like a big ol’ fish, flap around and squirt when you pointing
With enough lead to get Freddie mercury poisoned
Ladies and gents, it’s the Duke of Cornball), and his royally messed up features
(At a live battle looking like a dried apple), you’re one of God’s special creatures
(Now I’m the coach that made Glen Davis cry, this training ain’t the good life son
You act like a big baby when you lose, you just look like one)
They say the good die young, so you can die next
We catch more bodies than Apple factory suicide nets
(And the net taught me your mom is a fat lesbian hog
When I typed his last name into
And Rowan, we bros, but truth is your girl’s a lying bitch
Fuck a line that’s sick, I fucked my brother’s wife that makes me Ryan Giggs, I am him
And that dried-up clit? She lives by Shaftesbury
And while I’m here dog, that’s, where my shaft’s buried
She’s kinda fat, and her ass hairy
She even offered to lick Bender’s ass), and my shaft berries
(Me and Diesel, we came to Leeds for a very fickle purpose)
To light your brand up, (like Piccadilly Circus)
We the best, (we even ghostwrite for all our favorites
You know our status, salute us like Stephen Hawking, when) *both* he roll by Cambridge
(You Don’t Flop’s Jay, so this blueprint is your whole masterpiece
I mean your destiny was to make this child your ho, naturally
But ask ’em where they living,) Brighton? (They said ‘Hove actually’)
Your two-on-two with Shazaam and Nils had all the thrills of a business meeting
That shit was so fucking boring even Nils pulled out a pillow sleeping
You went for unlimited rounds, and ran out of film that weekend
If you did a promo overtime you would *both* both be still in Sweden
You a shady businessman, so I think that lying’s your custom
Too bad The Saurus, you’re a bitch when it comes to lying to customs

[Verse 3: Eurgh & (Cruger)]
Third round, you know my third is tight
Bender, you’re pretty fat, a pretty burly guy
Talk about Ryan Giggs, you can’t look at a picture of him ’cause his hair reminds you of curly fries
If someone told you Canada’s sick, I think they’re pulling ya’ leg
I cannot stand the fucking way them hipsters look in Quebec
Matthew Perry ain’t shit when he isn’t stood with the rest
That faggot from Glee got found with syringes put in his flesh
Ryan Gosling’s got an extra like, 50 foot on his head
Justin Bieber nearly got banged out swinging hooks at the press
Maple syrup’s wack, ice hockey’s for little pussies that flex
And Tim Horton’s ain’t got shit on Millie’s Cookies or Greggs
(You always bring albums that you’re looking to sell, but you ain’t pushing ’em well
You’re just like your box of unsold CDs, full of yourself
I’m breaking you down, these two get laid in the ground
It’s like the BET cypher, I’m taking Canadians out
He’s 75 and dresses just like a K Koke fan
This jackass is like Bad Grandpa, a fake old man
You’re like the reason nobody sees Macaulay Culkin in Home Alone 3
It’s becoming obvious you’ve become too old for the scene)
He’s been obsessed with multis, since a young age
He bought a V for Vendetta ’cause ‘Freedom Forever’s on the front case
Pizza Express serve chocolate fudge cake and Banoffee sundae
If you don’t believe me, now it’s time I’ll take you there on my lunch break
Imagine the staff’s faces, as he walks up in the restaurant
They already start preparing the, 20 pieces they guess he wants
He asks for the desert menu, they all wonder what he’s settled on
He finds the two rhyming words, takes a picture, and then he’s gone
(And you coulda named yourself after Futurama characters better
Why act like you’re Bender, you’re older than the Professor
You gotta be kidding me, is it ’cause you constantly drink all week
You bend shit to make it fit and have robotic delivery)
If his head’s in the oven, it ain’t a matter of death
He’s tryna cook the sausage packet on the back of his neck
I’ll make this ex-champion sweat, you look like you sit around texting your ex rocking Champion sweats
(So don’t act like owning the chain should get credit
You were once King of the Dot champ, but so was Arcane and Sketch Menace
Being the best of a bad bunch is why you’re the person that got it
That’s like winning Bad Brother, the year that Anton Murphy was on it)
But you taught him, how to battle, is that what you’re telling us?
Well then you’re a shit coach, that stinks of piss, like the Megabus
That whole student vers’ teacher shit
We had people click four million times on it
Yours won’t even break into 120 like the last note in a stingy guy’s wallet
(Their league used to have a couple good battles years back
But now saying they’re tryna copy Smack’s a clear fact
They’re all doing gun bars, I don’t wanna have to hear that
Too many white rappers talking ’bout slugs makes the atmosphere wack
As you can guess, I’m not subscribed
Only Canadian thing I watch online is ice hockey fights
They use big empty venues, where no one’s gone inside
Their events got the swag of a hallway in Columbine)
And when people do come, they’re shouting, off their face
Am I watching a rap battle, or the fucking trading floor at a stock exchange?
Wait, a bunch of drunk rowdy people, that do not behave
You fit better in the King of the Dot crowd than on the stage
(And it’s a meagre existence when your battles have more hosts than good bars featuring in ’em
And don’t act like without Drake your events wouldn’t be any different
You sell 1300 when Drake’s there, and 13 when he isn’t)
Ayo Charron, they ain’t giving you that title shot that you need to be given
But you know that ain’t the way that I’d let you be treated in England
We’re starting a international title, and from the people we’re picking
Putting you in the first match was a easy decision
I’ma be real, Organik gets me flustered
Gives them all job titles like they ain’t just pairs of hands and extra numbers
Calls himself a president, that pretentious fucker
I’d rather refer to myself as a battle-setter-upper
But I ain’t dissing Organik to make my punchlines hit
And if he wants, he can tell me how to run my shit
But until he fires the guy that pulled that subscribe shit
I got three words for King of the Dot, suck my dick

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