Arsonal vs. Swave Sevah [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Arsonal]

Aye Charron, you said my name first bar of ya battle
I know you ain’t think that was gon’ make me actually mad
I mean thinkin’ about another man in your battle bruh, that’s full fag
The Saurus just whooped your fuckin’ ass
You need to get back in yo bag
You don’t do rematches, I don’t do rematches
But everybody in here know I do play Capture The Flag
Now once again I’m here not in the States, I’m in the provinces
I’m on another nigga stage being another nigga consequence
Up in another nigga face, snatchin’ this ugly nigga confidence
I’m supposed to be having a battle against Swave Sevah
Nigga sound like Cookie Monster
He up here havin’ a battle against his sinuses
I swear to God I’m not continuing until you blow your fuckin’ brains away
Oh you gon’ act like you don’t wanna take this tissue?
Well can you at least try this nasal spray
Enough with the jokes, we both Americans so I’ma keep it 100
I will bend ya man, make my palm meet them frames
To show them I could lend a hand
Shoot ya Mother Mother for 15 seconds
I will Instagram with two clean Mexican Mossbergs
Call ‘em spick and span… or Cortez and Uno Lavoz
I’m from an ignorant land land where niggas clip they men
For a brick of 10
You’ll die from this AR, why? It was the written plan…
D I A R Y, diary, written plan
I stood on that corner with base like I’m Cal Ripken, damn
Ya’ll wondering “Ars you W biggest event in two days
Why you ain’t in it fam?”
Well this chess not checkers, I own that, this my gift to fans
I had a vision plan, fallback from the rapper, become the business man
Now I wrestle and get paid off everybody that enter my ring
Nigga, I’m Vince McMahon
I said I’m pimpin’ and
I’ll make that big bitch Jaz battle come hustle for me
You ain’t immortal in combat, you Immortal Technique understudy
I throw a bullet out a Mossberg, Shotgun, no huddle for me
You a Mark like Wahlberg, you Ted Thunder Buddy
And I heard you Bone Thugs for the love of money
Is that true? Cuz my niggas believe that
I take ya Father good arm and Christopher Reeves that
Once upon a time you was the man, now ya image is saying wack
You was on top, I press your buttons and you fell to the bottom
Fast as vending machine snack
You must have been looking thru Un Kasa binoculars
When Rex got the win
Bishop and Ganik called my phone with your ex conferenced in
I mean just cause I got a PS4 don’t mean
I ain’t gon’ play with your ex box again
I DX and tell her to suck it like X-Pac and ‘em, bars
Sometimes I forget bars which means I really grind
And I practiced I practice
But I still couldn’t remember any lines against Charron
So yeah I pulled out my phone, I did that plenty times
That just goes to show whenever I’m in a jam
I reach for the metal anytime
At least I finished mine even the tortoise beat the hare to the finish line
I take a pretty 9
Go to your son favorite Chuck E. Cheese and shoot up the kiddie line
I got bars and disrespect with a witty mind
Me and ya bitch spend plenty of time
And when we F we 69, that’s a Fendi sign
Bars after bars after bars, that’s all ya’ll heard from me
You couldn’t see me thru those lenses with laser optic surgery
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
And you can’t spell BARS without putting that ARS in it!

[Round 1: Swave Sevah]

Yo King Of The Dot, I hope ya’ll prepared for a show
Yo this nigga so black, where’d he go?
Organik, I ain’t gon’ Rap till he come back out
Ya’ll already gave him the advantage by calling this event “Blackout”
What’s that about?
This playing field should be an even forum
What? That tight ass Canadian tank top he wore
Last time got ya’ll jiggin for em
Peep it dawg, I ain’t come this way to be avoided
I had to get a pardon to get across that boarder
I came here to destroy him, oh…. there you are
Now understand you my man and I ain’t here to fuck you up
I’m just here to spar
Nah, I’m lying bro, I can’t deny it yo
Ars I know we cool but you still dying though
That iron blow I fill ya mind and soul with all kinds of holes
I clap thunder got all ya cats runnin’, feel like I’m Lionel
You’s a hoe ass nigga how we doing this Ars?
You confusing me, your body language movement is off
Is it disrespect or we violating or we using these bars?
Is it amusement and art or bruises and scars, nigga?
Cuz I came to scorch ya, torch ya
Find a chapel, grab a scalpel, scalp you and drag you up to the altar
Your life is a price in itself that shit’ll cost ya
If God requires a sacrifice you who I’ma offer, off ya
Burst the Dessie
Headshot all the red on ya dreads lookin’ like burnt spaghetti
But since you my man and I’m having a nice week
I ain’t gonna cover you with dirt, just with a white sheet

[Round 2: Arsonal]

I advice you just keep it all bars
I ain’t the nigga you wanna get personal with
You battled on my league in the contract lays your real name
And your real age if you really wanna get on some personal shit
Now that’s the type of information I could get surgical with
But since you keep tellin’ them “you my mans”
Do you wanna keep it all bars
Or do you really wanna get on some personal shit?
I’ma keep it all bars! Ya bitch love me, she been reachin’ out
She was trying to let this dick drill her
I mean her weave ratchet but that Bun be/B on point, that bitch Trilla
I got a pistol on the car dash she in (Kardashian), I’ll let Kim kill her
While this Gaylord watchin’ me fuck her (Focker)
Then steal her (Ben Stiller)
You went to the Philippines and battled Batas
And got zipped like the red leather that’s in Thriller
Honestly I wanted to look in the eyes of his killer
By all means, out of all things, you lose to him, nigga?
A Chinese rapper with all schemes, call that a Chin-Chilla
Swave fabricating, his imagination is fascinating
He think he just battling some dried up grape
Well that’s a raisin, my stash amazing
You ain’t seeing this straight, that’s an Asian
That hospital finna go out of business, I’m lackin’ patients
No man is perfect but God and never has he made a bad creation
Even his enemy was an angel at first and that was Satan
So let me guess Swave, you be out on your block package slingin’
False accusation
You rather stay in the cut so I’ma sprinkle the truth in your lacerations
I’ma treat you like a bitch with hairy legs, nigga
Meaning a bullet soon as you get nair/near
Fuck a razor, ain’t no need for me to shave niggas
“I feel sorry for your Mother” What you say about my Momma?
Bang bang bang! Put him in the grave, nigga ya’ll don’t get that?
This battle gon’ be 3-0, Dog, Larenz Tate with the braids nigga
Ya’ll don’t remember that? Harold at the red light
Well let Swave get seen in traffic
I’ma stick him with Earvin Johnson needle
Then ask, ‘Do you believe in Magic?’
I come to your AID without a cure, I’m the meanest bastard
And you’ll never beat me, you like Frazier trying to swing with Cassius
I’m really strapped, your guns pop up like a genie’s magic
Swave you shook or (Shakur) you just lookin’ through Afeni’s glasses?
Afeni Shakur that’s Pac Mom, I’m on
They don’t hate you cause you black, it’s cuz you wack nigga, stop cryin’
I’m black as hell, like you said, they don’t knock mine
This black on black primetime
But we surrounded by the Whites like the circumference of a STOP sign
Now what you gon’ tell me? How you turn this grape into fine wine?
When I been killin’ niggas from the city of Harlem before GrindTime
Hate killing, but got a murder between those is a fine line
I’ll pull it and he’ll catch bullet bullet, Buju Banton
Now, aye Pen, y’all can cry
I mean cause this a team Homi, that mean y’all all could die
I’m one nigga walkin’ with two K’s, Karl Kani
What other knife you got in your Arsonal that’s as sharp as I?
I see my enemies vivid, you Jiminy Cricket, you just talkin’ fly
Man this rebel armed, he know that, that’s what caught his eye
Only thing is this rebel arms stay swinging, I’m like that Carlton guy
Nigga my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
Round two they can’t spell BARS without putting that ARS in it

[Round 2: Swave Sevah]

Yo, Arsonal Da Rebel, that’s who Darryl Jones speaking as?
Well whatever consequence a rebel gets, nigga you need it fast
You too disrespectful, somebody need to teach you class
Where I’m from if a Father got a rebellious son, he beat his ass
See the past two years there been a rise in Homi stock
Cause my team been on a warpath, a lot of bodies drop
You can joke ‘til you get hit by my karate chop
Or I make a call and get you done worse than Mazaradi Fox
Grape Street Crip? Nigga please, you’re a grapefruit
I cut you so deep, first blood that leak will look like grape’s juice
Till the air hit it and you left for dead with ya breath skippin’
And the blood soak thru ya clothes lookin’ like you set trippin’
Run and tell all of his boys Ars throwing up bloody
I fucked him up, gut punch, Ars throwing up bloody
You tried that funny shit with Charron
But if you mush me
You getting an all expense paid trip to see Tookie, pussy
Why’d you name yourself Arsonal anyway?
And don’t tell me cuz you got many K’s and your semi’s spray
Nah, you can’t convince me you some sharpshootin’ expert
When you mentioning weapons straight off the Cartoon Network
I can’t imagine having a conversation about weapons with Ars
He like, “Swave, they building a factory for Smith & Wesson on Mars”
What you know about airin’ techs ‘til your trigger finger blistered
And you gotta get your hearin’ checked?
You know nothing, Ars a runner
I bang mine so many times the kickback gave me carpal tunnel
But Ars my brother and I’m having a nice week
So I’m not gon’ cover you with dirt, just with a white sheet
Team Homi nigga…
[Round 3: Arsonal]

Alright, you mention somethin’ about teachin’ me and shit, right?
Oh hol’ up, Bonnie! Hey Bonnie! See I wasn’t gon’ diss you
But you said somethin’ about me, you bitch you
Why don’t you pull out that mothafuckin Bible and say Daylyt ain’t hit too
But see you talked about me supposedly eatin’ a female’s ass
When your man suck tranny dick and come home and kiss you
Alright, now the third round’s the most memorable, so I’ma school him
I gotta teach ya (teacher) how to do it with class
Wut whoop your ass just for principle
See you was cut from the team before you even got your physical
My gun a boss, that shit fire before you even get the interview
Now you trying to battle and beat me with intellect
But what about those who don’t catch it? They can’t intercept
Then I become the bigger threat
In these streets I’m Link like the Cuban around Jigga neck
I always got some iron in my jeans, I keep my denims pressed
I keep plenty heat stick a knife thru any beef before my dinner blessed
Now I Swizz Beatz
My cousin did a bid for some dope floatin’ up shits creek
He home now, no longer is he State Property, Chris/Neef
First nigga think shit’s sweet, before this shit sweeps
Three niggas stomp him with both shoes alive we bury Swave six feet
You real? Why cuz you tourin with Immortal Technique? Got a new deal?
Hollow get Lux, I’m stuck with the deep voice nigga from Dru Hill
You ain’t get Ars cuz you nice and got that Mook feel
You got Ars cause you lowered your price, how the truth feel?
I’m Loccin’, blue steel, get his big body a coupe feel
Once I chop this nigga down a size, he’ll get his roof peeled
Oh I keep live bands, give you that Roots feel
But this like being on Death Row with No Limit
Swave you done signed with a Snoop deal
My bars crazy, I don’t need sign language to let my hands speak
Cause I throw wild punches in a circular motion like I was Zangief
You rap on instrumentals I saran beats
You ain’t a Battle Rap legend, you old, you’s an antique
I mean next is death, or the same vehicle as Professor X
I have my young niggas draw on you, call that an Etch-A-Sketch
You a gigantic asshole, meaning a rectum stretched
You wanna meet God? Heaven’s How High? Ask Red & Meth
Nigga you out here rappin for money cuz you tryna get your license back
I’m out here rappin for the culture and I’m tryna bring the lifeless back
They drive the rides authentic; you could never put a price on that
So all that Taekwondo
Nigga we been fightin’ in the streets before the Ryu vers’ Bison match
You ain’t the type to scrap, my hood ain’t nothin’ like a frat
Glove on the left hand and Jack-son, I’m bringin’ Michael back
Why this ain’t a title match? Cuz you got to earn your respect
That’s why I’ma cremate your ashes
Then urn you before you light the match
Now I remember the first time I got my coke stash hit
I got locked up, I was labeled as a low-class Crip
You fake rich, don’t get your poor ass stripped
You a female dog with a fractured tailbone
You ain’t nothin’ but a broke ass bitch
And a snitch, but before I snitch nigga you gon’ have to bust my canopy
Cut off both hands, all 10 toes and kidnap my family
I still ain’t rattin’, momma rebel really made a man of me
And my Grandma told me to kill that nigga Swave, take it to court
And then plea insanity
Nigga my shit is real my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell BARS without putting that ARS in it

[Round 3: Swave Sevah]

Now let’s talk you Jersey niggas and the history when I get ‘em
Cuz it ain’t no secret or mystery, I kill ‘em
Take ‘em out the game early, hang jersey, James Worthy status
Retire them but remember them as greats like Bird and Magic
Nah, see if ya’ll thought that then y’all very foolish
I said retire them but I’m thinkin’ more like
Hank Gathers and Reggie Lewis
You got a million viewers? Good
I hope all your YouTube fans see me
Beat you to death in this ring like Boo Boo Mancini nigga
I’ma host your funeral service, no need to prolong
Your ghost floating up to the heavens, we waving, so long
This nigga’s no more
Organik about to catch this body on footage & try to sell it like he O-Dog
Hold on, nigga you really think you beat Hitman?
Let’s see, Red, Suge, Solo, your whole squad I damn near disband
Now it’s your turn, I got the type of bars y’all can’t withstand
Mad punches over ya head, I’m like Ip Man
Toronto, I hope ya’ll don’t think y’all need him
See y’all invite the man, he tries to bite the hand that’s trying to feed him
See against this he dissed Drake, that was a mistake
He was the reason why y’all battled, he put up the cake
See if I was Drake, I would out went all out to show you how we play
Told Chubbs round up the thugs and drag you down G-way
I would’ve tied him up, tell Hush make sure he get molly whop
But don’t kill him just yet save the stretchin’ for Johnny Rocks
Don’t stop ‘til he recount every one of his statements
Then have Charron dressed in all purple and beat his face in
But I’m not Drake and Ars you my man and I’m havin’ a good week
So I’m not gon’ cover you with dirt, just with a white, nah fuck that
Nigga you done, wack I came to demolish him
Dump lead, remember bunk bed coffins? He gettin’ the bottom one
Team fuckin’ homi nigga

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