The Saurus vs. Rone [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Rone]
Word to my fuckin American flag tube socks
If I catch you on the rooftop, you gettin Billy Boondock’ed
I’ll pick up where I left off with Big T
Cause you’re my bro for real
Dog you will never know the joy of running through an open field
You used to be skinny
Now you’ve got tits and a belly as well
All of those extra helpings but you really weren’t helping yourself
You are so hungry
His favorite part of sex is eating ass
Fuck a thousand reps, you’re out of breath by the time that the beans are passed
Some ham comes steaming past, you should see the way he react
Breathin fast like he completed a 800 meter dash
He would gas, sweat beading, he eats or he’s seizing fast
Sweaty wrists, feeble hands, all he is is a meaty slab
Sponge bath? They gon’ squeegee that
Buffet? It’s an easy-pass
And if you don’t like fat jokes, well then, fucking stop being fat!
But Pete’s a role model, and a G for sho’
But when I just said “Pete’s a role model”, all he heard was “pizza roll”
If I think serial rape, I think one of the girls that Cosby has fucked
If you think cereal rape, you’re finishing a Lucky Charms box all at once
If I think, my Woman Crush Wednesday, well, she’s especially thick
Your Woman Crush Wednesday is any Wednesday that you have sex with a chick!
But we both like sports…both count it as a hobby
Some of enjoy playing sports, some just enjoy watching
Bro, if you and I play sports, you would bomb like Nagasaki
You get out of breath after a game of tonsil hockey
You would get a concussion at playing Fantasy Football
You would tear your ACL playing beer pong
That’s not a good look, dawg
We at odds like it’s Vegas? Well I would be the favorite
Mariota vs. Jameis, Tom Brady versus Peyton
The star will get ate, so that makes him Troy Aikman
I’ll salute him, then put his ass a mile high: Terrell Davis
I’ll go shots to your temple, bro, fuck what this mark makin’
I’ll put you on the sideline, chillin’ with Nick Saban
By now, bro you light off the top, that’s Chris Kaman
I’m the way Ray is with the Ravens or the Bears with Walter Payton
But you love talking through people’s rounds, so you can’t compare me to son
It’s funny you love sports, but you’re a terrible one
You have no basic rhythm, your concepts are just forgetful
So how can we go back to basics if you don’t know fundamentals?
You have the most copied style, I’ve researched, it’s true
But if a million people can copy it, that means it’s easy to do
I mean you wish you could say you fathered me
He wants me sisters with his daughter, he’s weird, it’s startin’ to bother me
He called my pops about adopting me
But I could boss you up in your own house, pussy
You only had a daughter for the Girl Scout cookies
So I don’t give a fuck if you are one cool dad
From me and your daughter: “Hey, fuck you, man!”

[Round 2: The Saurus]
This is how quick I’mma beat ya
That was crazy how you went from a vocal impression of Bart then switched into Lisa!
Now I can promise y’all, in the worst way, he’ll for sure hate my approach
I can outwrite everything that this nerd say, and our wordplay isn’t close
I could punch him until he needs first aid, or shit could turn straight to a roast
Either way, this is gonna be the worst rape, since you were first raped, by your coach
Last chance to bet on me if you ain’t put your money up yet
I’ll wipe the Prince (prints) off of the scene, and they ain’t found a bloody glove yet
The shit about you, Penn State, Sandusky? All pretty fuckin’ suspect
But I won’t talk about you being molested…it’s a really touchy subject
You’re softer than a sunset. You’re in over your head, Roney;
Philly folk, start spilling 40-O’s for your dead homie
You best show me respect owed or I’m exploding
In the House of Gods, bless Rone’s soul, he’ll get left holey/holy
That’s irony, like a right from me leave his eye runny
Get fried, but I’ll crack somethin on the side, sonny
I heard it from the grapevine up in wine country
That he might take a stage dive for the prize money
Now, speakin’ of stage dives…
Let’s talk about that Daylyt shit for a second
You wanted to use a gimmick against him, he had different intentions
But thinkin’ a Abe Lincoln impression would win shit against him?
That’s the biggest bitch cop-out since Olivia Benson!
He said he has a URL battle…but ain’t nobody saw the shit
So if KOTD’s vaulting this, I think we know whose fault it is
Yours!
You gave it the old college try, now call it quits
He balled his fist and tried to throw, I caught the pitch like Carlton Fisk
Roney, this’ll be your worst night ever
Every line, every word I render
Do a World Wide Web search
Name someone he’s been served by better
People barely show on this bitch like the first trimester!
Now… Have I mentioned how Sandusky molested you yet?
You’re like his Jefferson Price, #NeverForget
Now, I’m not saying he did the shit, and I’m not saying he’s innocent
I’m just saying, we can’t judge Rone based on several thousand isolated incidents

[Round 2: Rone]
I’m Brian Bosworth; I could do you like Okwerdz
Grind them gears, watch we put (h)our hands to his face like clockwork
You get hit and run just for fun like Dante Stallworth
Or you could catch the fade: corner route to Lance Alworth
We could throw, like Brad Penny or Chad Henne
You could catch the bam a lam like “Black Betty”
Get served at any time of the day like you at Denny’s
I’m the fastest Italian since Mario Andretti
But you the type to fall in love with a whore named Cinnamon
Whore, The Saurus, ain’t that a synonym of a girl that’ll sin on ‘im?
So I guess that makes me his antonym
But they barely feel you like there’s an ant in ‘im;
You sound like a fag; you put the homo in homonym
WRC shit, to homi him I’ll sick Hom on ‘im
Dog, you look like you jerk off a ton!
Just like.. playin poker, watchin a bunch of battles
You have to be jerking off all the time!
I don’t have a punchline, just, we know, okay?
And here’s another fact to make you think your whole life over
You moved to Las Vegas…to play online poker
Bro, you could play online poker anywhere, from Peru to the Bronx
So you chasin that dream? Well, that’s an unusual thought
But I think I know the real reason for you movin’ your plot
You went ’cause prostitution is legal, and you were due to get caught
Fact or fiction? Your life is a series of bad decisions
And now you can’t get women but you blame your metabolism
And in that condition losin weight’s like crackin an algorithm
Cuz you couldn’t so restraint if you were into masochism
All stuck in a market, in your musty apartment
Dusty and dark with the fuckin’ musk of an armpit
Overrunning with garbage, blunt guts are discarded
Fuckin pizza crusts on the carpet, it screams “struggling artist”
All lazy, all day he just pushes a rolling chair
The only danger he ever faces is when he gets close to stairs
Wearing tighty whiteys, the holey pair, and a bathrobe as overwear
Your girl wear the same drawers Oprah wear with the weight, waist and face of a polar bear
All you do is send tweets as you go through your day
Oh good. Let’s hear more about the poker you play
When you break up with a girl, when a new one opens her legs
As you have breakfast, lunch, dinner, and then both of your cakes
But, I mean, when I call myself a slob, it’s self-deprecating
There’s some tact with it
When you call yourself a slob, it is disgustingly accurate
Fuck battle shit, the only time that he’s an innovator
Is when he taught his dog to fetch a beer from the refrigerator
Is there a minute of your day that you’re not looking at a screen?
Do you have bread, cheese, and meat with every meal that you eat?
Do you claim you’re crushing life and that you’re living a dream
When you’re just a sweaty stereotype who’s just obese and obscene?
See I stand for the U.S. and all that’s great about us
But you represent everything the world hates about us

[Round 2: The Saurus]
Me being what everyone hates might be true, fool
But at least I don’t remind everybody I’m a white skinny American every 5 seconds like you do
I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t true
There’s multiple people in this fuckin’ room who’ve ducked this dude
That thought it would be more important to come to this event
Than to battles that they’d booked with you
But you wanna be that next artist KOTD will push hardest
He from Philly, but his whole look started in Good Charlotte
You cursed, basically every battle you book’s garbage
Cuz they keep hangin bud out to dry like a kush harvest
Look, dawg, we’ve all had opponents that ducked
But it’s gettin to your head, and now Roney’s gassed up
Fuck it, I’mma add to your stroke of bad luck
They finally got a real test tossed at Rone (testosterone), now man up
No weddings, no snow storms, no pathetic excuses
No holds barred, no more respect for these new kids
Nowadays, an up-and-comer tests a legend and loses
And thinks he’s seasoned in a day like a Netflix exclusive
Not today though, not today, I’m borderline spazzin’
So before y’all try actin’ like this battle is some torch that I’m passin’
Watch…a Super Soaker vers’ a .45 Magnum
Then see the poster boy gets posterized as Jordan flies past him
I will flatline you, Roney, this as easy as it gets
A rapper vers’ a gimmick that’s been beaten half to death
Plain as black and white, he’ll hit you with some cheesy-ass effects
Right off the Bat, man that’s exactly why they bringin Adam West
But can Adam test me? Can this nerd stand the pressure?
Well, that’s a long shot, like the Birdman director
Homie, when people see me, they get excited like Santa Claus is coming
When they see you, they’re like “Oh look, it’s the Daniel Tosh of nothing.”

[Round 3: Rone]
So you call yourself the two time champ. And I like it, it’s great
I won the spirit award in high school tennis twice, so I can relate
But “Mr. Two Time Everything”? Is that right?
So, the presidency? The Super Bowl, did you win that twice?
Oh, oh, you won two things two times, so you’re the four-time champ
Well, I’m the prince of 16s, so I’m four times that!
Fuck your war cries; I’ll wash em. Where the fluoride at?
With your fuckin rawhide face, man I’ll pork grind that
If I want your girl, I’ll take your girl. Cuz that’s just how she want it
And I’m makin a de-posit right in her meat wallet
He wears his rap championship rings when he’s tryin to be brolic
But it’s no problem to steal your rings, I already done beat Sonic
Dawg, I could make you a better better, but I have lessons as well
Gambling is an addiction, so it’s time we get him some help
I have seen the girls you’ve fucked. Let’s just say that you’ve had better
Your range starts at fat heifer, and spans to transgender
One looked just like you, I swear she was your fan member
But it’s no shock that a gambler has a terrible track record
You’re like a substance abuser the way you mortgage your future
Yo, Organik, show me a gambler and I’ll show you a loser
Bro, even look at your battle career, because it shows that you’re shit
‘Cause if you were a good gambler, you wouldn’t know when to quit
You love to bet on yourself, like it’s a game in your mind
So I made up my own odds for you…on the ways that you’ll die
So, heart attack?
Two to one, that one was easy
Ten to one?
He goes to KFC and he chokes on a fucking three-piece
A hundred to one?
The fucker dies of lung cancer ’cause he’s been smokin’ like Chief Keef
A thousand to one?
He has a stroke…of genius, and shoots right through these teeth
Half a million to one?
He dies exhausted, fuckin’ hookers on repeat
A million to one, he dies retired on a yacht out at deep sea
A billion to one, he’s trampled by fans wantin’ CDs
Or a trillion to one, he died of shock ’cause he actually beat me!!!
My graveyard’s riddled with tyrants, watch me belittle Goliaths
How many giants I gotta kill before I’m considered a giant?
The dun-dudda, god body, John Gotti with the wrench
The West vers’ everybody? How bout me vers’ everybody on the West?
Who I beat?
Bro, anybody in Cali or from Cali, I put em down in order
Who I beat, and who’s left
Well, the second list is shorter
I turned Caustic into a personal information hoarder
I made 360 180, sent him running across the border;
I turned Fredo to a angel, put that Baby in his corner
I turned Okwerdz to a blogger, made him lose all his supporters
I got Day laid out like it was frickin brick and mortar
I turned Dirtbag Dan to a sideline reporter
I would call out Dumb and Diz, but I’m not holding my breath
But shit, I think that they might be the only ones left
See I get rowdy in the ring, I put a bounty on that thing
They call me Roney Bae the Prince, but out in Cali I’m the king

[Round 3: The Saurus]
Lemme address that shit you little weak ass bitch
I got two homies that you’ll immediately lose a rematch with
And here’s the other part that wasn’t fully complete with me
You listed all the West Coast battlers you beat but somehow mentioned 360
Who remembers when Rone said, “What I gotta do now to get love up on the stage?
Pull my dick out or punch someone in the face?
Nah, I’ll just be me, ’cause that’s all it fuckin takes!”
Or, a month later, I’ll dress up like Honest Abe
Watch my opponent jump off the fuckin stage
And I’ll just stand there in a top hat lookin’ like some sucka who got played
But is Rone the #1 contender for the chain? I suppose
But if he’s the guy you chose, it was probably only…by a nose
I dunno what Adam meant by great, but I’m adamant I’m greater
This is like comparin’ Canibus to Drake, or analysts to players
There’s a major gap between us, and see, that’s the difference-maker
Some people say we’re in the same class…but so were Shaq and Christian Laettner!
Bitch, you majored in Journalism, but nothing’s happened yet
Except your mom and dad just split ’cause they’re a hundred grand in debt
I’ve got a Master’s in the same field, ’cause I learned how to hit paydirt
I took off-the-head lines and turned ’em into paper: that’s a Journalism major!
Make your best shot, Prince, don’t keep the king waiting
I’ll turn Adam to a bitch from a freakin’ rib breaking
Every shot I land see my ego inflating
It ain’t even spring training and you see my swing changing
Now, everybody live-tweeting, I want you take this down
Rone’s softer than a Charlie Clips name-flip round
Rone’s softer than Charron’s birthday cake is
Rone’s soft as being friends with strippers on a first-name basis
I hate to say it, homie, but you’ve got no identity
White and skinny, the only things that stand out to you specially
So instead of spending three months doing your homework prep for me
You could’ve looked in the mirror once and saw your own (you’re Rone) worst enemy
And I’m not saying I don’t the know the difference between two genders
But how come he and Bruce Jenner have never been seen together?

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