Cassidy vs. Dizaster (Rematch) [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Dizaster]

Yo that shit you did last night was fucking gay!
But regardless let’s get this battle underway
Cuz I’d rather get buried alive
Then have to deal with a piece of shit like you for another day
This battle is like the Alpha versus the Omega, yeah you the start of it all
But I have evolved and became far greater
I am like Michael Angelo the archangel
If he was a dark natured art painter
Painting a picture of heart failure
Look at the all the trash in your iPod player
Running in circles on these tracks
Only to Roll in a Cage and you crashed like a Nascar racer
I’m a gargantuan hall of famer
On stage with a ball of chain, a barbarian on paper
Every bars tailored for your Paul Bearer
Alahu Akbar, a battling rap god slash bar maker
Bar mitzvah glass jaw breaker
Large tray full of shots like a bar waiter
Kamehameha, bar layer after bar layer
The chicken gettin plucked if I pick em I’m a guitar player like John Mayer
Fuck a long saber like.. I ain’t Luke Skywalker I’m Darth Vader
Armed with Vega claw blade may god save em like Bart’s neighbors
Stop hating you all haters
Open your dome before that long scope
Put your face in the stars like Carl Sagan
Walking around cross faded given you those raw haymakers
You gon get bars straight from this foreigners phone like jailbreaker
I get rid of your bars like bail bondsman
Since you don’t wanna sit in the yard and do hard labor
Got your memory scarred but you gon remember this all later
Don’t worry at all Player, it’s all saved on your Sega Memory Card Data
Along with the rest of your Outdated Raps
Next to your packs of Garcia Vega Cigar Papers
If I catch your momma joggin in cross trainers
I’ma go across her face with a mach razor
Then walk away from her cuz I’m a heart breaker
This ain’t an arcade or a game at all crossing me on an off day is like
Tossing a piece of large bait to jaws you getting Shark-Kesha
A grave robber, robbin bodies for Al Queda
Still surround you with so much Watts around you
You gon feel like you got tasered
You’ll hear a blast and see a flash from far like a massive star quasar
Laser hit you in your facial tissue like acne scar laser
For that white powder
A deuce deuce will leave little holes in your top like salt shaker
Then I’ll finish it off with a big cap on your head like a park ranger
And if I don’t got it with me on DECK

You’re gettin CUT like a Las Vegas card player
And I ain’t playing with you at all bitch, I ain’t a dog trainer
Man you hell of a pussy for the shit you did last night
I could tell you nervous right now by how you moving your hands right
Yeah please don’t fuck with me, you already know what’s up with me
You brought all your homies with you

Cuz you didn’t do it without your company
Scarface.. Fuck you gon do now?
Oh, oh you can’t battle without your mothafuckin crew now?
Yeah exactly you cannot match me
You had wack punchlines, wheelchairs in Degrassi
Fuck do you mean dog? Ever since that mothafuckin car hit you
Something been wrong with you
You been a bit *whistle* off tempo ever since you popped
Out of the coma you dropped into
Bars no longer hard hittin he’s all filler after the doc stitched you
You went from artistic to autistic, mentally challenged and part crippled
From all the brain damage and scar tissue
That caused him to suffer so much permanent memory loss

That you don’t know whether or not something is wrong with you
And I left that part open to symbolize

How you completely forgot who you are the moment that car hit you
Amnesia is a motherfucker, and at this current rate

He wake up every day in the same reoccurring state
Where he look in the mirror and doesn’t recognize the person or face
Feels so disturbed from it he feels like the person
Who’s facing him is violating his personal space
He’s a groundhog

That’s why he wakes up and writes the same verse everyday
It’s like every part of his memory that’s short term was erased
I feel bad for your wife because she probably feels like
She’s fucking the bitch Adam Sandler was fuckin in the first 50 dates
That’s kind of a low blow I shouldn’t have made fun of that car crash
That was some hard shit to live through
But I chalked it up to bad karma
See most people don’t believe in karma anymore but obviously I still do
Cuz for instance

You got famous for killin a freeway then a couple of years later
You got famous again when a Freeway almost killed you
Don’t ask me to give a fuck I ran out of fucks to give
I hope you get in another car accident
This time with your baby mother and kid and instead of dying you end up
Being the only one of them that lives

What? Yeah that was a low blow
I know doe doe, take a photo, oh
I’m about to roll up and pop the, to his fo’ do
Oh no he’s probably gonna go and pc again and talk to the po po
How you gon talk shit about Meek Mill you’ve been a Dreamchaser
Fell the fuck off the scene and become a free baser
Ill put five to the side of your car like speed racer
Then have you run away car exploding in the background

Like the cover of Peacemaker
Yeah you could act up you get slashed and hacked up

Left on your back stretched cutty
I’ll fuck your ass up, I’ll stab you into the past tense buddy
You ain’t survivin this crash, the impact will pry you in half
Fly through the glass as the dash gets bloody
Cass take your last breath

Cuz you gon catch wreck faster than the crash test dummy
Big Daddy Kane told me no half steppin, you half step it’s a wrap
You getting wrapped up like an Aztec mummy
Yo you know why this dude Cass act real funny?
I don’t know cuz he talks about his battle with freeway like the four Touchdowns he scored back in high school, you the black Al Bundy
Y’all wanna know another reason why Cass acts real funny?
I don’t know he claims hes getting bitches and he pimpin
But really he married with children cuz he like the black Al Bundy
Y’all wanna know another reason why he act real funny
I don’t know because he had a hit but after the show was over

Him and Kelly went separate ways, you the black Al Bundy

[Round 1: Cassidy]

Listen man, I’m feeling real upset today
Cuz I heard you paid some niggas from Grape Street

To fuck up our battle yesterday, and that was extra gay
You took the bitch ass route
Scared that I was gonna fly Math out here to knock your bitch ass out
I bare/bear arms grizzly style, and if I’m hungry for the chicken
That heat’ll spin you around rotisserie style
You was rich as a child, never wanted for shit
And you ain’t never run a strip, you just running your lips
I know you wish you had a shorter nose
I wish your mom had a miscarriage and you was born in a toilet bowl
Or your dad splashed ya right on your Momma face
Cuz you like a hermaphrodite, a dickhead with a Vagina Face
The nose, the clit, your mouth is the pussy hole
So don’t get the lips on your pussy swole playing that pussy role
I got bars like phone car reception
But stay strapped like back packs, gat black, Biggie Smalls complexion
You Ready To Die? That .38 special lead like special Ed
It’ll teach you retards a lesson
I grip that thing and I’m aiming at y’all direction
Hit your abdomen and strangle your mans and em

With your small intestines
I’m what you call a veteran, I’m legendary
And you just a son of a bitch and its hereditary
If I was Math, you’d be dead already
Your picture on a obituary, bullet holes in your head already
I’m 5000-0, my record dumb nigga, dumb nigga
You lost more battles than you won nigga
I ain’t ever lost one nigga

You playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun nigga
And where the fuck is you from nigga? Iran, Pakistan or Lebanon?
Nevermind, I dont give a shit you fucking immigrant
I hope your green card get revoked you fucking degenerate
Explain this shit, you freestyle for free on some beginner shit
With the pen I’m sick, penmanship, I get paid to spit

And you ain’t getting paid shit
If you add up all the money that you made from every battle u ever had
That wouldn’t even be half of what I’m getting paid for this
You make me sick, your rap style awkward as hell
You act all wild and rap loud
You think your bars sound hard cuz you yell?
And you was in a group called Krack City
But never sold no crack in your city, that’s retarded as hell
Ayo this kid a clown
I want y’all to hear my impersonation of how corny this nigga sound
“I’m authentic, my brain is large, off limits
My car rented, got kush and swisha cigars in it
I’m barbaric with bars but never bartended
Yo I go hard with it, spitting poison, I’m arsenic
Yeah, you could get punished you could get it if you want it
Your stomach I’ll carve into it, then poke it open and barf in it
I’ll climb in your moms box and let my cock spar with it
Put something hard in it, go hard in it
Then pull out then stick my whole arm in it
Pull out her cervix and then tell her to suck my dick
That’s how you really fuck a bitch, Yeah… Yeah…”
Look at his eyebrows this nigga hostile
Like Damn that man sound better than me with my style
I had to mimic how your style sound

To prove that I can shit on you with any style I’m moving my bowels now

I’m the king bow down
And next time you get a cut, make the barber trim the eyebrows down
My fans like Cass you the best
Damn right I was battling before the cameras and the damn mics
Before Facebook, before twitter and instagram likes
Worldstar, Vlad, YouTube and all em damn sites
I ain’t battled in 12 years but I’m so damn nice
I hand write raps that’s crack Ku klux klan white
Yes your gay ass an A-rab, but you not the Taliban type
Cuz you ain’t never pop off a chopper your whole damn life
Plus you an atheist who don’t believe that god exist
You went from “Allah Akbar” to a scientologist
You a homo, so I understand why you switch
Cuz Islam dont accepts faggots that like riding dick
And how you Grape street fruit cup?
You wouldn’t bust a grape in a fruit fight
Banana clips’ll crack your coconut
The toaster bust, remove everything from your shoulders up
Listen your head missing, the coffin can’t open up
You cough and choking up like an asthmatic that smoke too much
Dog, you like a canine cop, sniff coke too much
I’m like shooting up in a vein and my dip dope as fuck
My bars roaring all of your bars is baking soda’d up
Like having sex with a fractured pelvis you broke us fuck
You very poor, ain’t got no chicken, Veggie store
I have four dollars and flip that
Bought a soda, 2 dutches some chips and a kit kat
Nah forget that, I got a quarter mill to kill this cat
Bought an M4, Two K’s and some Macs all big gats
Then I went to see my connect like “where the bricks at?”
He made me spend, I paid for ten, but brought twenty bricks back
And I brought my chick back the Khloe and the Fendi
And used twenty grand worth of benji for the gift wrap
Me against this bitch is a mismatch
Cuz every line I rhyme is a punch but I could beat him with bitch smacks

[Round 2: Dizaster]

You called me an immigrant, pfft, you wanna call me a Arab?
Talk shit about that well that’s some shit I do not understand
Hell yeah I’m a immigrant
I’m Palestinian cuz if shit is real (Israel) I don’t gotta sling shots
You could get rocked with these hands
Do you understand, that you wack and I hate the way that you act
You always talk shit about people and reference

How they’re gay when they rap
But you’ve been accused of having AIDS it don’t get gayer than that
You said I’m a atheist I’m not dog, that’s a fucking lie
It don’t mean I don’t believe in something

Just cuz I don’t believe that there’s
A invisible man that whispers to me in the sky
You might be a little ridiculous cuz back in the days
Hold on let me tell you a story from way back
Way back before Daylyt got his face tat
When all you had was your fucking five XL white T’s

With your dirty wave cap
Used to rap about how you blaze gats and slang packs

Until you caught a case fast, you went to jail then came back
You changed paths you went from spraying caps, to Christian faith raps

You’re a hypocrite I hate that
Cuz now you back to the same Cass that gangsta Cass
That I bang Cass once again you came back after Jesus saved yo fake ass
So this ain’t even a welcome home party for you
This is technically like welcoming Mase back
“Welcome back, welcome back, welcome back, Pastor Faggot”
And now he’s back and he’s gat holdin, what a bad omen

He got locked up and found God and came out as a black Mormon

This motherfucker reminds me of Dragonball
Cuz as soon as he got in a cell he started transforming
He don’t understand what’s happening here
He likes to whisper in mans ears
This cats a fuckin bitch when he’s performin
And look how you went like Notorious Big how you turned to Faith
But you ain’t never gon get into heaven with that dirty face
I’m pretty sure one of the main requirements to get thru the pearly gates
Is not bragging about havin a murder case
But you forgiven, you forgiven tho
Hes a born again Christian virgin
Fuck his image, I guess this fuckin image isn’t workin
What good is being religious when you’re just a shitty person?
This fool went on the breakfast club and spit some
Jesus raps and nobody was feelin it
Soon as he left the radio station Charlamagne was lookin at the co-host
Like damn what a fuckin idiot
What you need to do is stop claiming you’re a killer when you a Christian
Cause it makes you sound like an idiot you need to tell these people
Who you really is, that Philly kid
Who got famous for claiming a murder that he never really did
Yeah tell these people all the facts here really
How you ran your mouth and almost got smacked by Gilly
How your man caught a body for you
You left him starving and that’s why you can’t come back to Philly
Tell these people how you no longer a Philadelphia bol
Tell these people how you moved out and you a New Jersey resident bol
Them OG’s on the block are like Japanese chefs
Cuz soon as they smell something fishy
You got cut that’s how people in Philadelphia roll
What now you got bloods you payin to protect you?
Cuz you ain’t nothing but a clown
What you should do is take that money
And give it to OBH cause they the ones that held you down
Maybe if you woulda taken care of AB
You wouldn’t have been ran out of your fuckin town
Can’t come back to his pack in Philly cuz to be blunt ever since he got cut
He ain’t had the guts to stick around
I spoke to your OGS Mr. Majors, AR-AB
I’ve been talkin to all of them they told me
All them cats from OBH you phony
You never sold drugs, them coke deals
Are fictitional stories the only time you push keys
Is when you use them to lock the door on your homies, yeah, yeah
How could anyone call you loyal, your own block disowned you
Your man caught a body you were in the crib cryin
He outside putting his life and catchin, poppin for you
What, what oh that ain’t true? That ain’t true?
Then why you fuckin talkin during the verse, why you reacting to it?
Cuz you know its true shit
It’s fuckin with you its fuckin with your brain
You already know that’s the type of shit that
Starts fuckin with your mind starts fuckin with you insane
Starts poundin in your cerebellum fuckin up your membranes
Please, please listen, cuz you know you wasn’t honest
AR-AB you told him you would ride with him, but you broke the promise
You closed it I know you closed it regardless
You a fucked up manager Cass
Real managers are supposed to open doors for their artists
Well when it was time to pull the fifth out

You dropped your clip and you dipped out
You were supposed to use the chopper but you like Julia Roberts
Cuz you nothing but a bitch with a big mouth
He claims he killed so many rappers that he lost count
He has such a large amount of body bags

That there’s bodies he forgot about
But correct me if I’m wrong ock, you never even caught the body

And the only body you’ve ever talked about
So since when did claiming someone else’s body count as a body count?
You don’t bang heavy metal

Last time you seen a body count on your hands
Was when Ice T put his first album out
You ain’t a gangster you’re a rapper Cass, fuck you talkin bout?
You was crying like a bitch when shots rung out
Them large cans had you hiding inside like Oscar the grouch
Ever since Vlad aired your dirty laundry out
We know that you a backstabbing fag that would

Let his man starve on the couch
And when you was with Double R
We never seen Styles, Jada, Sheek with you at your show rocking it out
So the shootout you was involved in
Was the only time you’ve ever had The Lox/locks in the house
Cuz he wasn’t poppin in the war when shit popped off he walked off
And he blocked off the entrance door turned into sonic the hedgehog
And he balled up on the bedroom floor
Why you actin like you the one who popped this pistol for
If everyone in this room was a mutant from X-Men
You’d be Mystique I mean you obviously that bitch of course
Cuz you the only one in here comfortable enough with his own skin
To walk around claiming a body that isn’t yours
Fuck what you have to rap about, that’s real shit

[Round 2: Cassidy]

You looking petrified right now
I can tell its intimidation
I been knew your bitch ass was texting AR
Trying to find out a whole lot of information
But every time you rap I hear the crowd whispering
Like I ain’t trying to hear this shit again, I’m trying to hear Cass spit again
My women friend, BAD BOY it’s all about the Benjamins
You bend your men over then stick it in, bitch you feminine
You think cause you sucka punch Math, that niggas fear you?
Didn’t you say you sucka punch Math cuz that nigga dared you?
Well I dare you, I fucking dare you
I double dare you, I triple dog dare you

You try it, my dogs will air you there
Cuz I’ll even hit innocent bystanders
I dare you, I had to repeat it just to prepare you
To die or be a paraplegic, wheelchair you
Cuz when gats clapping your back cracking, chiropractors
And I know you not about to show out
Cuz I’ll get my HIT-MAN to HOLLA at you
(And I’ll knock him the fuck out) … (I’ll knock him the fuck out)
You know wassup boy, you know you knocked out
You do not wanna box boy, everybody know that you a fuck boy
And everybody know you like to fuck boys, that ain’t even a mystery
I always got a pretty bitch with me
My bitch’ll be like, come and get with me
Pretty please, I need some dick in me
I get bad hoes and you get dick in your asshole
You trying to hide it, you need to come out the closet
No I ain’t homophobic, but nigga I’m gonna expose it
Stop it! Dizaster you sweet
When I rap, I rap for the streets
And you… rap for the suburbs like this, rapping too much words
You can’t even rap to the beat
Dog I’ve been had plaques on the wall
All you got is plaque on your teeth
If you and me happen to beef

I’ll catch you at the red light, the shotgun, shotgun in the passenger seat
You would wet your pants begging for a second chance
I’m blastin the heat, I dont sympathize, you’ll get sent to God

Pimp your ride, give you all red interior
It’ll be an exhibit (Xzibit) of a natural dizaster after they bury ya
This like a dog fight, but I’m superior
You like a labra dog and I’m more like pitbull terrier
A show stopper, flow hotter than Nigeria
So chicks like me, wrist icy like Siberia
I just bought a gold watch, with those rock
Yellow like the bumble bee on a cheerios box
So I wear it everywhere now, cuz its exclusive
It look like my watch and Medusa just had a stare down
So hoes be pulling their underwear down
And start finger popping their damn vagina, then hop on this Anaconda
I put it on my grand mama grave, I’m a grinder, I got insomnia
I don’t need no damn pajamas, no sleeping
I’m up early for the cake, so I’m eating
But listen, what I’m whippin in the kitchen ain’t Aunt Jemima
You gotta have a steady hand when you blam the llama
Cuz the 5th’ll kick and it could sprain your frickin wrist
The fiends know, I seen more snow than Saint Nicholas
The night before Christmas, my flip game ridiculous
And I pitched the zips of cocaine cuzzin
Cuz a lot of niggas fuckin wit Molly, that bitch promiscuous
I gain support cuz I’m a flaming torch
Yep I’m heap, but fuck a beat
I don’t need no track for my train of thought
For the dollar signs, I sign my name on the dotted line
Shit I’m in my bag, try me its colostomy time
You need to transform, Optimus prime
Cuz you ain’t got a dime, you still livin with your Pap and your Mom
In your room under the covers on your bed
Trying to cover your ear so you won’t here your Pap poppin your Mom
I’m the hustla, you not on your grind
So you couldn’t walk in my shoes even if we wore the same size shoes
I been a fly dude, screw more chicks than niggas get their whole life
In my first semester in high school
That’s why at school I did it big, humpty hump nose
Done lie fool, you got punched and got your lunch stole
I been official, this nigga got mental issues
You must’ve got dropped on ya head at a couple months old
You’ve been retarded since an infant
So I swear I’m about to air you out like a car tire when the rim bent
You can’t front chump, I got so many punches and bars
After this battle you gon be punch drunk
They put an Arabian nerd from the Suburbs
Trying to have a nigga swag up against Mr. Cass?
My bars goes over niggas heads like a mistletoe
So you can kiss my ass if you think this nigga sick as Cass, this nigga trash
And you wanna know what else rhyme with trash Dizaster?
Your cab-dispatcher, a swagless rapper
Arabic bachelor, that fuck with boys on the low like a catholic pastor

[Round 3: Dizaster]

You’re a hell of a fucking weirdo bro
You said I got dropped on my head a couple of months old
No, but you got dropped on your fucking head a couple of years ago
Its one thing to be confident
It’s another thing to have blind folded cockiness
See all you do is be coming off them blogs
And be talking shit sounding like a retarded gimp
Coming off like Erykah Badu
Cuz at one time you use to have Common Sense
I mean whats wrong with you dog
Nowadays you like the boy who cried wolf tickets
Trying to provoke me with false threats
Cuz I guess that’s what you gotta do when you have a Napoleon complex
You ain’t a gangsta, you an actor performing his role while he’s on set
Part of this big ass metaphoric context
See you, stop frontin like a soldier and you really want combat
Before you get shot and sent home with only one arm left

Like a former Vietnam vet
You ain’t from the army you don’t pop techs
Thats an invisible cloak, an image that’s not really there
You were never seen in the Philadelphia projects
Hold on, I sense a force field coming
The same people that said I wouldn’t beat you
Are the same people that said Hollow wouldn’t kill Budden
Say you gangsta then go pail something?
AB told me you wasn’t on the field 45th gunnin
You was clicking both hills running, you a fucking oatmeal muffin
You don’t hold steal, and even if you did, you still won’t kill nothing
But Blunt trauma false concussion, get your whole grill crushed in
Crawling out of the automobile looking like roadkill, I got no chill button
Cassidy the hustla back on the block doing phone bill numbers
Carmelo gave him a million dollars he fucked it off
And ended up broke still and got no deal from it
Always sitting talking about how he chopped a whole big onion
Running your mouth about all these coke deals frontin
What coke deals? It’s like been at the poker table
Cause I know you are bluffin, but you ain’t the player
You the house keeper when they hear folks cussin
Cuz you already know that you won’t deal nothing
Such a fucking mark, trying to play those type of games
Do I’m a fucking light you up cuz my gang type insane
With these bars I crafted, It’s like a complex art
My thoughts are graphic
Imagine a collage full of visual bars from Leonardo’s hand
Which makes it harder to brush me off

Once I start to draw you this canvas
A blank rap sheet, full of post-dramatic flashes from car crashes
And you might’ve cruised through a Philly freeway
But right now you’re in Los Angeles and you caught up in traffic
You can’t be calling out rappers like Marshal Mathers
When all you have is nursery bars
Let me show you what a strong vocab is
You holographic, monosyllabic, nobody can blam
Monotone having, ass retarded subpar

Washed up mediocre four bar patterns
Brought an armed body guard that walked into the press con with him

Like Kevin Costner
Cuz that’s how much of a fraud his ass is, yep
He had a bounty guard him from getting washed
That’s the reason you softer than cotton fabric softner
And we ain’t cut from the same cloth that Cass is
Yeah I seen you, all up on those blogs with Vlad, talkin
Running your mouth with your fucking bobble head

Fuckin Bob Saget retarded glasses
His fucking Bob Saget fucking goggle glasses
Running his mouth like a socially awkward ass off brand bubble head Looking retarded faggot
Let’s talk about how Jim Jones snapped on you
And AB had to step in cause you almost got your ass whipped
Or how when you saw the body, you started to panic
That’s when your boys pulled your card like magic
Cuz you were suppose to aim the thang but you turned David Blaine
Soon as you saw someone in a box
You completely disappeared from the spot and vanished
That gangsta role is just an act, you ain’t problematic
You just a fake animated character
With a real person riding on your side like Roger Rabbit
Yea you put on some classics, like being on an R Kelly song and that’s it
Yea it’s pretty cool, alright but that was hot
But when you go from that to

Lying about being sponsored by a condom packet
It safe to say your career’s suffered a lot of damage
Especially when you go from the top 100 charts to the bottom bracket
And land in the same catalogue with Math Hoffa’s garbage tracklist
Along with every other lost New York rapper

That ever put out a song on DatPiff
But his team always reaching for the highest amount of green
Look at their long giraffe necks
You went your whole life talking about the gwap and crossing assets
You went your whole life chasing that chunk of ice
Til you finally found it and it became your downfall, you are the Titanic
Cuz after you fell off your pendant got jacked bitch
You know the pendant from Jack’s bitch, you fucking wack bitch
And it’s still 14-19 seconds why you trying to act bitch?

Why you talking thru my shit?

You said in a blog that you’re the one that started battle rap
And before that you smoked a bowl of crack and you dropped some acid
If you think you started SMACK, then you a Molly addict
I don’t know what they got you on after the car crash
But you must’ve got a doctors pass for popping xanax
Who the fuck brought this synthetic hero in? My bars are like Oxy tablets
I’ll fucking catch you in the fucking wood
And pop up with a large tool like a car mechanic
Sparking at random objects like their target practice
Fuck around with that long assault rifle
With the Mac pulled, folding stock, with the mad grip

Long scope on it, with the lens on it….

[Round 3: Cassidy]

I’m so official, I hold the pistol

Put my finger cross the trigger and pop like father figures
I ain’t trying to hear/hair nothing
That metal start chopping like barber scissors
I’ll snap and give you headshots like barber pictures
But not for the ‘gram, the Glock in my hand
I’ll put to your head and let that thing cut like barber clippers
But since the DA be charging niggas
You gotta have the right plan to shorten a niggas life span
You take a life man, you could get a life man
If a snitch sit right on the stand and be the prosecutor hype man
Lift his right hand and be in there pointing
But I got bread, I’ll put money on your head like a hair appointment
And nah we not gon call cops, we all pop
Scar shots give you bold spots like nair the ointment
Now, who use head and shoulders when their hair dirty?
Alright well I’ll blow his head off his shoulders, do this nigga head dirty
That was a head scheme, some of y’all got it
But them bars when over some of y’all heads like hair cream
My wife nice, this dick head mean
I’m not single but can make every single bitch in here cream
Cuz I’m a freak, my wife freaky too
She my boo we will screw at least two bitches every week or two
Watch as I keep a few, ice smother the face
So bright it’ll make you cover your face like you playing peek a boo
I got a hawk and a eagle too
That’s why I let bullets fly and smoke a mon,a Pokemon, Pikachu
Only that person that deceivable believe it’s true
When you say you clap gats, that’s unbelievable
No one believing you, you never shot shit
I’ll pop and make you shit on yourself, that’s why I pop shit
I’m fly no cockpit
I throw birds with no feathers I copped in the pot and counter clock whip
But you ain’t never cop shit
How you got blocks on lock with no keys nigga, you gon need a locksmith
I’m on some get gwap shit
Your chicken low man (Lo-mein), noodle I’ma chew you no chopsticks
I jot shit on some think out of the box shit
Look I got him shook on some Michael J. Fox shit
You a comedian actin the fool
And was on the Total Slaughter show tryna sing on some Jamie Foxx shit
You lost to Daylyt, got dropped bitch
And was feeling bad, really mad, suicidal, in your Robin Williams bag

Really sad, about to kill yourself, don’t know why you didn’t
You should’ve took a dirt nap if you were tired of living
R.I.P. Obviously you lost hope cuz you always broke
But you could die for free
See life come with a price you never pay
So not committing suicide the worst mistake that you ever made
But now I’m choosing to help
I’m killing you in this battle, since you ain’t have the balls to do it yourself
How you soft then rapping hard? Stop confusing yourself
That ain’t cool Lush.. Why you set this up to get this dude crashed?
My tool bust, yup, I keep the heat
The only time you squeeze that thing and bust is when u beat your meat
What you trying to front for, I show up to your front door
Chubby Jag sent address in his last text
I’ll mask up like Daylyt, broad daylight
With to K’s like Kanye wife, that’s Ray-J height
Then I’ll pop til every family member shot
Infra dot, shinning red like a break light, but I ain’t finna stop
Car scheme, I take your life with my ice on
It’s like I got the high beam headlights on
My wrist glow Cause I get gold like Tyquan
Rap and sell off white
Smoke so much the inside of my car need fog lights
Clouds of smoke coming out of the gat like exhaust pipe
I’ll let the gun shoot and open up your sun/son roof
The ratchet drawn you the bastard I’m a blast it on
Then lean you on the side of the road with no hazards on
I’m trying to re-up when the crack is gone
For them oils I’ll ride out, but see keys don’t turn disaster on
Its traffic on the highway to hell, thats where Dizaster going
I’m on the road to riches speeding past, this easy cash
I’m known for spraying shit up, but I don’t graffiti that
Your Middle Eastern ass should take a laxative and then eat some glass
I’ll eat you up then eat your food with my greedy ass
See I smashed Freeway the free way, I ain’t need the cash
I had to do it to Free, but now I don’t do it for free
To go through me you gotta pay, I ain’t a EZ Pass

You sound wack to me when you rap…

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

3 thoughts on “Cassidy vs. Dizaster (Rematch) [Lyrics]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s