The Saurus vs. Charron [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Charron]

Charron 2.0, givin’ the streets classics
Someone tell Arsonal I don’t do rematches
You’re the type to bang a bitch and stay behind
I get neck and bull, Frankenstein
Toss you in the ocean during a crazy tide
Have you sleepin’ with Plenty Of Fish since you date online
What’s it worth? Charron’s paid to rhyme
I fill up boxes for checks like Croatian minds
Rip out every page inside The Saurus ‘til I break his spine
Or alter your chin like an Asian bride
That’s what mid tier smells like, I crush opponents
You’re getting sunned up North summer solstice
You’re like the gambler I didn’t want to role with
Get Ethered in the casino like when Hunter Thompson upped his dosage
Bring a pair of dice to the City, luck is hopeless
Slash then Bucket-heads like Guns N’ Roses
You lost to a Canadian in Don’t Flop I think London noticed
It’s funny you have a Scarface and got killed by 100 Bulletz
You’re monotone, boring, just retire, buddy
This bitch is dull, Bride of Chucky
The Saurus, I’m synonym inside this country
I’m schoolin’ this fake book, Bible Studies
I spit my bars as sick as sars, I’ll ninja star your ass
Sounds like you’re reading books to a Kindergarten class
Look at this “Peterphile” who roams the streets with a knife
Girls treat your dick like a rape whistle
They only blow it when they fear for their life
You had the best pen game, in the freestyle era
He scheduled his run
You were bringing in bread now you’re peckin’ at crumbs
You picked up some cash from events that you won
I’ll get rid of that stash like November was done
We want you to retire, if you don’t get that you’re dumb
In 2014 you’re an irrelevant bum
If you claim you fathered my style, you neglected your son
You’re the exact person in 10 years I hope I never become

[Round 1: The Saurus]

Check check, can you hear me? You can hear me?
That’s good cuz you should know he’s just a big clone
I’m a terrible Father to all the bullshit kids that I disowned
Yo you’re not going to have any fans left by the time I’m done rappin’
Cuz Corey is as corny as that fight that just happened
Who the fuck is Corey Charron? These days even he ain’t sure
In six months he went from embracing being a nerd to gassed up
Thinkin’ he can beat Aye Verb
Now fake Grape Street crippin’ if you peeps ain’t heard
Wait buddy, we used to cut him slack for being a teenager
But you been bitch since the jump-off like a teenage Eurgh
Speaking of which, true story time
Tell me if I’m lying or not
You would blow a giant cock for any type of title shot?
No? Funny shit, Eurgh told KOTD to suck his dick
And you’re battlin’ for Don’t Flop’s International Title, so someone did
So desperate, Charron’s giving everything that he’s got
He thinks he’s earned it for how hard he’s reppin’ King Of The Dot
But a title match ain’t what you get for thinking you God
I’ll put a chain around your neck like Jesse Pinkman to Todd
Look you almost like Walter White too
No matter how you cut it, when you break it down, all your lines blue
The barrels bein’ spun, you better flea and run
Every one I’m with draw on my account no depleted funds
It ain’t a season of a TV show on VH1
But ya’ll about to see Corey bein’ sonned by Peter Gunz
I ain’t even done, I’m on one, I’ll crush you in the long run
Your head blew up ever since they almost handed you that Shotgun
I feel sorry for the city that this pussy corresponds from
I feel sorry for your Mother, that’s the pussy Corey spawned from
I lead this movement you just steal my blueprint
But I beat you to it Corey we’ve been through this
A true teacher always supersedes his students
So I’m putting you to sleep with some Sweet Chin Music
How could you be this stupid? Making clownish threats
Being yourself is something you used to proudly rep
But now you’re pullin’ out them Techs?
You went from Malcolm In The Middle to Malcolm X
And that’s something that this crowd respects?
You think guns actually sound like Big T’s sound effects

[Round 2: Charron]

Yo, he wanna talk about Breaking Bad so I’ll get rid of ya
But real talk I’m not Walter White but my squad supply to Bolivia
If I got that gat I’ll pop the pipe and get rid of ya
I’ll fill up your tea like Walter White did to Lydia
It’s an enigma, I’m your protégé, it really seems impossible
You have more pre-med flips than a Filipino hospital
Before this battle he made a personal offer
Let’s exchange rebuttals to help make our verses stronger
I ain’t tryin’ to script it out with this dirt-poor Father
Let’s keep this unplanned, like your firstborn daughter
Put you in the hospital as it beep away
Get tuned up by a doctor, Beats By Dre
Here is something Pete would say
I’ll turn this to a sea that ain’t gonna fly like Aaliyah plane
This grease ball from Greece gettin’ beat today
There’s so many holes in your face you’re sponsored by the PGA
You could be the face of Dot Mob, you’d be perfect man
You’re face is so burnt Nestlé wants to use it for an insurance scam
I’m a pimp, your two sisters hop on and swallow
Now they’re fighting over Da Don, John John and Hollow
With your girl, I control her with game just watch son
PS 4 (for) your information I get jobs done
Now he needs to be consoled, it don’t end off on
There’s a contest for most ratchet pussy and his ex (X) box won
Headshot, what’s for supper?
I’ll rip off Petey’s head like the gas man from Dumb And Dumber
I’m mental, Brian Griffin your squad will unwrap
This ain’t Family Guy, when Peter’s dog dies he’s not coming back
The Saurus, you’re washed up with no future
You’re the oldest fuckin’ book since Karma Sutra
I’ll put that gun to your mouth before I aim and I shoot ya
Have you tastin’ Clips like Cortez when he ate out Medusa
Rappin’ about guns claimin’ you spark heat
If you’re packin’ the Mac in the back of the Ac’
You’re puttin’ Greg in his car seat
But if Ars puts hands on me again, I won’t pull out the switch blade
I’ll just bang your slut daughter and use his Crip flag as my jizz rag
That ain’t an illegal blow that’s a TKO
Punches hit so hard the crowd scream, “Sharkeisha no!”
Battle Rap is all you fuckin’ do
Even Whitney and the tub won’t die as washed up as you
Fuck a third round this is already through
Like a Siamese twin you got bodied in two

[Round 2: The Saurus]

Here’s how I know that Charron’s true bitch
Cause if Arsonal touch you again, you won’t do shit!
You’re a fuckin’ horrible rapper, why’d I write this verse?
You’re the worst thing to happen to battling
Since the GrindTime title shirt
Boring mismatches and corny Crip tactics
Make Corey’s bitch-ass-ness clearer than 40-inch plasmas
A born again Christian before he grip ratchets
So it’s an act if you think Corey been (Ben) savage
You aren’t as fortunate, I’ma share the art of war with him
I’m sharper cuz I started before him like Arkham Origins
A born contortionist, you should have got aborted
Cuz I fathered so many of you marks I could start an orphanage
Wait, ya’ll don’t think it’s corny Corey claiming he can Crip Walk?
Another lost boy, Corey aim came to get his pill popped
I’ll take a cord and strangle Corey
For the greater good of Hip Hop
Sorry player, I’m gettin’ Corey Taylor’d for his Slipknot
See he thought that acting more hard would make him sort of popular
But ya’ll see, Corey’s softer than JC’s choreographer
If I swung you’d call for Law Enforcement
Inform an officer, report, record and document it
Like a court’s stenographer
This a body, I’m preparing for business
Sonning you like I’ve got characteristics of the parents you lived with
I’m not so sure you want beef
The whole league will be in Glee when you OD like Cory Monteith
Talks cheap, you the hometown favorite
But I already own you, no down payment
Co-sign the whole way
You only a Crip when it’s time to role-play like Keyser Söze
This a Cold Case, don’t miss me, spazz, with each jab
Watch this kid be bad, then put six feet past
Any bitch he had, must be in rehab
Cuz she hits speed bags like Nick Diaz
Y’all remember when Arcane battled Diz for the chain? And took it back
Diz had a fuckin’ meltdown mid-round and he fuckin’ snapped
Threw a beer can at a female fan, started a shoving match
And Organik still thought that you verses Pat was a worse look than that

[Round 3: Charron]

Yo, you wanna talk about Nick Diaz? Well watch the champion swing
No Anderson Silva but I go out on a limb when I snap in the ring
I got exposed with Laura, I don’t feel dumb
I’d rather Shotty bang my fake bitch than Uno Lavoz fuck my real one
I get paid to snap like the paparazzi
If your girls on her period I’ll put that colon to work like a grammar Nazi
Since Pete’s a pizza face whose actin’ cocky
For the dough I’ll turn him inside out like a panzerotti
Fuck shooting, I’ll use a gun to stab somebody
Put the peace into you (India), Mohandas Gandhi
I’m like MF Doom with the hands of Rocky
I don’t have a dancin’ hobby
But a mask is on me while I’m catchin’ bodies like the Jabbawockeez
It’s like my Dad’s on his deathbed, observing all my traits
Like, “Son, turn your life around and stop murdering with Grapes”
Ho ho! WRC’s searchin’ for the tapes
You been mid-tier for six years, all that works been put to waste
The fans want you to retire, you’re not worthy of the stage
You named yourself after a book but never turned the other page
It’s like I pulled the plug on my Dad, the first word I say is “Thanks”
For being such a failure
That the new generation could learn from your mistakes
Beep, beep, flatline, but the doctors resurrected his life
I’ll kill him again, since he likes doing everything twice
You’re someone Battle Rap’s not gonna miss
If scars prove our past is real, with that face you’ll always exist
For the past year I’ve wanted my Father to call this shit quits
I feel like Simba while he watches Mufasa fall from the cliff
Damn homie! When I was in Grade School you were the man, homie!
Now I get paid twice as much as Saurus do
Much Music gave me 20 G’s to record some tunes
Mr. Two Time Everything’s never toured with Wu
You’re twice my age and I’ve accomplished two times more than you
Real talk this my last battle, too much drama and stress
Now I’m all about making music and cashing in checks
I’m done with King Of The Dot, I wish Organik the best
Sike tell that cry baby Dizaster he’s next
Title fuckin’ shot!

[Round 3: The Saurus]

If you cats ain’t guessed, Pat Stay is next
It’s a goddamn shame that we can’t place bets
Cuz I’m as positive as your last AIDS test
There’s no way that chain gets around your giraffe-shaped neck
When you got kicked out the BET Cypher
That was the most depressing shit ever
You went on the news to cry about it before you settled your temper
You said their racist views prevented you from getting remembered
But ain’t that kind of like the pot calling the kettle the N-word?
I mean maybe you didn’t get a BET Cypher spot
Cuz they noticed you can’t even get a KOTD title shot
Maybe they thought you’re a pathetic piece of shit
Who pretends that he’s a Crip
Cuz he’s in desperate need of any free attention he can get
Or maybe they just didn’t think your freestyles was that tight
Or didn’t like how you were claimin’ to be down with that life
But you would of seen it coming if you think about the past, right?
It ain’t the first time BET reached out to Smack White
They slapped you with the iron palm
You’re not hard if you’re in a cop car for being invited on a Ride Along
You started rappin’ just to spite your Mom
Because you grew up in a household that taught you
The difference between White and wrong
Your life is all make believe, stop it
The only flag you should ever rep has a maple leaf on it
But he thought that he was Crippin, in Ottawa
Where value in property has risen
To second in North America’s quality of livin’
So maybe BET’s just waitin ‘til that apology is given
I mean White rapper, White community
What? Insulting Black culture is just following tradition?
Y’all tell me, who’s the actual racist?
You went on national news and looked in the camera to say shit
About how they discriminated, but examine your statements
You’re not a Black guy Charron, it’s time to man up and face it
All you are is a black eye on Black Entertainment

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