Dizaster vs. Big T [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Big T]

See if Math woulda hit you, he brainless
But since you hit him, he famous
It’s cool that’s why I see
I said I wouldn’t come to Cali and join the crew, I lied
I wouldn’t be Blood or Crip though, I’d be part of the Boo Ya Tribe
Boo Ya! Boo Ya! Who outside?
Lush like “are you alright?” I shoot him too… *braah braah*
I don’t give a fuck who mom cries
Suit black ties, pin stripes, two black ties
Married to players in the game like Joe Dumas wives
Wait, wait that was a reach, I said that cuz Joe Dumas rhyme
But you know what else rhyme with Joe Dumas rhyme? Um, I don’t know
You punch Math Hoffa at King Of The Dot and got yo dumb-ass fined
I came to check this pussy but they don’t make a douche that size
Deuce deuce backside, *doo doo doo doo doosh* that side
See how he got more famous off a punch then he got
See we watched and rewatched and gee shocked us
Cuz we watched like a G shock
I ain’t gon lie, you my man Diz but it wasn’t a clean pop
I didn’t know if it was King of The Dot or happy hour
Cuz you kept sending em cheap shots
I prepared minute rounds, but I’m saying this now
You put ya hands on him wild and all ya boys was just standing around?
Like man y’all couldn’t stomp him out you had the man on the ground
Universal Soul Circus cuz they make up yo niggas to be looking like clowns
Bam dissed yo ass the last round
It was like you fell off in the ring, Manny Pacquiao
You was like a class clown
That studied hard and suddenly tried to pass now
You took ya best swing at it, but you still quite couldn’t get Math down
Big face Arabic terrorist, what a big waste pop
At the King Of The Dot got docked, what a mistake
Man y’all shoulda seen the look on his face
Ain’t no need for the doo doo emoji, cuz that’s a shit face
I ain’t playing, this nigga talking bout fighting, 8 hands
Nigga go King Of The Dot and a plan
A nigga put up hands on me he a dead man
I’m sweeping up all those (Apollo) off the stage like the sandman

[Round 1: Dizaster]

This guy is such a fat cat, in his last rap he got so mad that
His snapback literally snapped back
A little disclaimer before I destroy this fucking poser
This battle is at a Wing Shop, the battle is fuckin over
Listen here Mr. Gracie
In this game you’ve never been equipped to play me
So by the time it’s over
None of y’all gon have the balls to say that this hippo ate me
Listen here Mr. Gracie, I call you Mr. Gracie with a Mr.
Cuz you and Mrs. Gracie look like
You would kill yourselves over a Big & Tasty
And that’s the only fat jokes you gon hear from me today
All fat jokes aside I’m not gonna demoralize one of my closest guys
For the sake of having doper lines
So now that that’s out the way…
Jesus Christ those are some enormous thighs
Those are some unhealthy ass drumsticks T
Each one of those tree stumps weigh like a buck 45
Look at that torso, doesn’t even belong on a normal guy
It’s Tyrannosaurus size
Scientist can use you in modern day museums to serve as a prototype
To stand next to fossils of the bones that dries
As an example of what the dinosaurs looked like before they died
He’s a real gangster, he tortures guys
Rolling up to the department store in a stolen ride
He parks it, and then he goes inside, no disguise
Pulls out a loaded .45
Starts threatening to start taking all the employees lives
Cuz the last time he was there they ain’t have his clothing size
And the crazy part about it, that’s the same way he orders fries
He’s a one man army, you can not harm him
He’ll hit you with the long cans like Chef Boyardee
He’s always giving out arms
And that’s one of the reasons that they call him Barney
I’ll hit you with these fat Clips, I call them Charlie
Look at you floppy, blobby, awkward, sloppy
All of the carbs he’s blocking his arteries
Clogged from the Smarties, if he’s starving and he needs more carbs
He will pull an armed robbery with an AR on a Arby’s
Someone get this large fuck off me
Got so many rolls on display
It looks like I’m bout to order a Starbucks coffee
When you said you see the bow before you start karate
Wooh! I thought you caught a homi
But now I came all the way from Abu Dhabi
Just to teach you how to catch a proper body
What you gonna need to do is…
First thing in the morning and roll in your moms Pilates
But, that ain’t even the punch line
I’ma stretch you out and drag your body bag across the lobby
Then toss Big T bag over a shipping dock like a Boston party
It’s gon be like a Nagasaki Bombing
When you watch me rap, it’s like Ivan Drago Apollo boxing Rocky
When we watch you rap
It’s like Hitman Holla when he almost fought Tsunami
C’mon bro, you hating on me that’s why he gone hate
He never get no bitches with that Cee-Lo face
Big T never gon beat no cakes
Unless it’s American Pie style sticking his dick in a three-course plate
And that’s only time we’ll ever see Big T bone, steak
Quiet man…

[Round 2: Big T]

Respect us, I come thru, have ya block spinning like Tetris
I check marks, wrong or right, come and correct us
Soon as I lift the tech up, ya man alive he gon be paralyzed
Like a Pez dispenser, cuz he only could get feeling from the neck up
Respect us, automatic when I dump techs
I drop bombs, BOOM, Funk Flex
*Brrrr* sound like a solo from a drum set
A nigga get tired playing then it’s sudden death
He gon get the message after I lick a (liquor) shot, that’s a drunk text/tech
Still I come off a gator hand on some Vegas shit
But I palm resort to light em up, no Vegas shit
Let’s talk about the Empire, let’s take a trip
This clip spit faster than Missy Elliott in that ain’t yo bitch
You an Arabic? I fill ya salad up with bacon bits
Gay bacon strips, you the fakest bitch
You let niggas take his bitch
Talking bout he a pimp, he a trick in they relationship
I’m more like Michael Myers, cuz I stab the bitch without saying shit!
We went two different paths, I went to school extra clip in the bag
A nigga get rude, we going dutch, what’s that? Split em in half
Point finger at me, but I’ma give em a blast
I got expelled and my CDL’s cuz I learned how to use the semi in class
At last we bring em out, I broke em people
I’ve broken people and broke in people
But this steel/still can get out of hand like a Logan sequel
Me and my crew can murk you, we like a Truth commercial
Cuz when we warn you, we all about smoking people
For the normal people
When the truth commercial warn you, it’s about smoking people
So I seen you but what Daylyt did in the crib, T wasn’t cool with
You coulda said something to ruin Day, but he didn’t do it
Now we see Diz losing
We saw ya Heartbreak Kid taking defeat/the feet to the face
That’s sweet chin music
DO IT! I don’t give a wild fuck
Nigga I’m beating the house up and beating the crowd up
Ladies with them long dresses at ya church, I lift they blouse up
Walk in ya kid school and take a shit up in ya child lunch
Doing the football field, I throw the youngest child up under a pile up
I put ya shit to shame, this shit a shame
Nigga it doesn’t matter, I hit em with a bang
I’ll have ya mama flipping all over the church like Mrs. Payne
It’s a shame! (?) My rhymes written in brail
For having sex, I give em hell
I’m sending the four door/photo with the text/techs like picture mail
Peep to tell you do all that lyrical, spiral, cibral, beribble, liberal, well
But that’s why ya money low blood cuz only the nigga’s that sick will sell (Sickle Cell)
You like to fight? Man this is a heavy puncher, I am (Iron) Mike
This blade eat ya face with a fade, you like to fight?
QUIET nigga!

[Round 2: Dizaster]

You just ate your words right there like a little stupid fucker
That’s pretty ironic, I never thought I’d see Ruben (stutter) Studdard
Yo you said you were gonna fill my plate with bacon bits
You lying cuz if you would’ve had bacon bits
Your fat ass would’ve ate the shit
That’s actually funny cuz you want me to punch you
And if I did your fat ass face would’ve probably ate my fist
So what would happen if I randomly hit you with a *tiger uppercut!*
Nothing would happen cuz my knee would probably get lost
*Inside your fucking gut*
And I’d probably get sucked in one of your rolls of fat
And *I’d become your lunch*
Look at this giant chubby slut trying to size me up for what
Your nipples are the size of suction cups
I would give this guy 100 bucks just to see him try to double dutch
Soon as he tries to fuckin jump, his thighs would buckle up
And the rope would snap from both sides
Like it did the last time he tried to bungee jump
I’m surgical with the blade, with this knife I’ll slice ya stomach up
You know what the doctors call that? A priceless tummy tuck
Who the fuck you think you’re talking to? Let’s be honest dude
You look like Majin Buu if he shot himself with his own chocolate move
Gaga googoo, you look a little lost Baloo
Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t you the guy who started Zulu
Like African Bambataa crossed with a
Walking giant bottle of chocolate Yoohoo
Sha-lacka woo woo sha-lack goes woo woo (?)
You sound like Shaka Zulu
No really I’d push you out the way and start walking through you
But I watched X-Men and you the Blob so it’s impossible to move you
When it comes to eating no one gets as pissed off as you do
Last time he misplaced a food item he completely lost his noodles
I seen your fuckin Instagram videos out there in Vegas
Swimming in the pool with your outfit on with your titties all exposed
You need have more confidence and go skinny dip with hoes
You’re like a Grand Theft Auto character
You just go swimming in your clothes
What’s going on T? I thought 50 Cent said you his favorite rapper
Why he ain’t put you on a song, T?!
Face it, your Dad’s sister is the only person that’ll ever put you on, T

[Round 3: Big T]

Shotty or 9 millimeter? I get to any gun I could put my hands on
First I use it til the mag gone
Done then I’m looking back for the pump like
I forgot the number to put the gas on
Daylyt battled Ab-Soul, all the bars was hot
Hollow battled Joe Buddens, that’s when I thought a lot
When they told me Lush who y’all got, my jaw dropped
I get the Arab nigga that played in the Barbershop
I’m careless, I could care less, what fair is
Fuck fairness, nigga I’m coming to kill ya parents, on Terrance
I grab a butcher knife, tear it
Rib in (ribbon) ya chest, breast cancer awareness
Who he? Boy I’m Bruce Lee with the loose-leaf
I’m saying nigga, you gon be assed out like a nude beach
First nigga be talking gon be the first nigga snitch to police
Drop dime in (diamond) police station, he Martin Lawrence in Blue Streak
Ooh Wee! Pass, I been through interference, I’ll be through in a minute
I’m just checking the bag like security clearance
Nigga come around with bricks, think to shoot in it
Now I’m knocking down bricks like Beetlejuice did it
Come see my whip and you think the shooter in it
I’m killing niggas that ain’t have nothing to do with it
Open ya eyeball and stick a needle through in it
Poke-a-mon (Pokemon) eye out
It’s shocking to see em peek at you (Pikachu) with it
Tough guy! You gon be catching bullets with teeth, I Sho Nuff guys
I’m just with “Me and My Girlfriend” and she a model … PLUS SIZE!
Anybody you love tries, I’m killing everybody
I’m pulling strings like I’m trying to get off the bus ride
Instead of busting rhymes, going through ya raps
You should’ve worked at the Kwik-E-Mart pointing to the snacks
My phone was ringing, they sending paper through
I’m going through the fax
They run out of Annihilator (?) juice, you had to get more from the back
I hope ya store get trashed, clean some more and it’s tracks of lil kids
Right after the floor getting waxed
But you catch em stealing something and you go ahead and snap
Shoot, at some poor innocent black boy in his back
I’m like damn Diz, y’all already in control of the gas
Boy you be getting smacked and pretend ya boys holding you back
Boy you rap every time somebody sold you a pack
And you wrap like ya blunts got small portions of crack
Goofy hoes, this nigga, him and Daylyt a bitch, I pass through the troll
Bridge, now y’all convinced
They been playing with fags booty holes
Y’all talking bout the shit that they’ll do to Combs
Blog drop, *brring* call got to his phone
Like “this Diz, we gotta talk about this shit when you get home”
Goofy hoes, you Dizaster, I Afghanistan ya, Louisiana ya
Twin Tower ya, I Katrina ya, Virginia Tech ya, empower(?) ya
Columbine ya, this glock of mine will devour ya
Oklahoma bomber, Osama the shit out of ya
Suck an old Ebola dick of some nigga up in Africa
No H-O-M-O, that’s no problemo
Soon as I take the shit off my memo
It gets on my mental that it’s monumental
Boy my movie real, load up the clip and take shots like movie reels
See how a movie’s filmed, and if he moving still
I bring the fucking clip to the steel, then unload the clip til he still
How do it feel? We know to the fact that a gun take a patch out his head
How do it feel? Man I don’t know
But it seem so many holes in his lid from the cig
It remind him how a sewer feel…. QUIET!!!

[Round 3: Dizaster]

I didn’t want you to be the one I had to do this to
Don’t act like being called a fat kid is new to you
When Lush One seen a plus one
He thought you brought one of them fat cats from the crew with you
Little did he know that the Cabin Crew pressured us and said that they
Gave him more space in the aisle for the passengers moving through
So they charged us like there was actually two of you
Now I don’t discriminate I think fat humans are beautiful
I mean look at this African Sumo dude
Standing here with his fat as belly
He’s probably channeling Buddah through
Black as a scuba suit, massive as juicy fruit
Made his whole album on Fruity Loops
When the temperature in the lab goes through the roof
He smelling like ass trapped in a music booth
Sweating gallons of noodle soup, taking a bath in his own booty juice
The thought of a bitch fucking you sounds awful
Look what being round as got you
Any bitch that’s ever opened a twitter account blocked you
Even Cupid shot you with one of his bow and arrows
And then the tip broke off and then it bounced off you
Look at the chocolate covered Butterbean lookin mean motherfucker
I don’t mean to prejudge him cuz the streets love him
But you being overweight’s
Starting to fuck with your ability to be a G cousin
You’re limited to drive-by’s only
I mean picture him all up in the streets busting like
Physically walking up to the side walk with his heat dumping
And tossing his piece, fleeing the scene like … “Police coming y’all”
You ain’t gon reach nothing at that speed
Unless I told you the other side of the street had a deep oven
Where they bake donuts in cream stuffed in with sweet pumpkin and…
Listen to me
You fuckin obese glutton none of this shit really means nothin
You can’t get a job cuz your dress shirt’s like the first Nintendo controller
It only got like 2 or 3 buttons
Picture him all up in the scene clubbin walkin around with his drink buzzin
Mean muggin all the bitches like “I’m trying to eat something”
You said you running through bricks like Beetlejuice was in it
No bro you running through brick like the Kool Aid Man was coming
From the place where your glocks go “Shalaka bing bing!
Shalaka woo woo! Shalaka soo soo! Ting Ting! Boop boop!”
I’m from the place where the shit goes “Chalaka soo soo!
Chrrrrrr boop boop! … *gun sounds*

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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