Bender vs. Soul [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Bender]
Now he gon’ say I’m fat, drunk, washed-up and old, probably
Those same tired angles, let’s see if those jokes bother me
I got a Jonestown Massacre effect you don’t wanna see
‘Cause one deadly punch could put a end to your whole following
Now we could turn the stopwatch off or we could do limits
60 seconds to book his funeral plan, but his suit fitted
Dig his grave with a 90-second round, you give me a two-minute
I’ll quarry the stone to build the mausoleum and put his tomb in it
So either you glue-sniffing or you come to get work
A Scottish shepherd from the Highlands, that’s what I deserve?
You think you’re on my level? Please, fuck what you heard
I’ll send you back to your sheep farm so you can fuck what you herd
He not a threat to me on a stage or the ring
Jed, go watch Macbeth if you wanna play with a king
You shadowboxing with a sun god, you can’t compete
REDRUM: I can write this murder backwards in my sleep
I got a grade-A hottie with a Playmate body, your girl’s like 4’7″, still in grade eight probably
I should put rings to his grill like the AA Audi
And stomp Soul with the sole of a grey suede Wally
You cautious or nervous? I blur the line between the dirty side and the polished and perfect
Certified, not the Hollywood version the current climate has opted to nourish
But you’re the type that I wanna have words with
‘Cause Soul, it’s like all of your verses refer to science or the Protestant church
You’re, purely trying to drop some obscureness
The Führer’s rise and the, blunder of Europe in ’39, that was laundered through Zürich
The Merkers mine of the German Reich
The workers’ mind and the, communist purges, the sure decline and the fall of the curtain it, turned the tides
I thought when I heard it, “Jesus fucking Christ
He’s even worse than I am with all of that nerd shit”
Your girl’s from Toronto? Tonight’s gon’ be a Cancun summer
He gon’ slide in like a hot knife that pass through butter
So I’ma climb in through the telly window as you fuck her
Just to tell her I got discounts on acupuncture
Don’t worry I’m not gon’ leak all of your business
Same reason I don’t fuck with peach schnapps, those cheap shots are for bitches
I came here for two things: to black the fuck out and ruin a title match
So stick around if the EMT’s in time to bring your vitals back

[Round 1: Soul]
Salty fans in my inbox expectin’ them to book Bender-Ness
Well I beat him so when I beat you I’ll let you battle for second best
So what’s up Al? You really think you half as sick as me?
You comin’ down off a bender hard as the battle industry
And that saddens me to see, ’cause you had a decent reputation
Till Pat vers’ Arsonal, tryna kiss a chick out his league in desperation
Till Pat vers’ Charron, like “He means acupuncture, needles”, Bender’s wasted
How drunk do you have to be to think a Charron bar needs an explanation?
So I’m sorry player, nah, nah, nah, nah, fuck a remix
He beggin’ for attention in battles, I call him Queenzflip
Real shit, why you givin’ Bender a match?
He fucks up every battle he’s in, and plenty of Pat’s
You just keep him around for heritage and to remember some crap that should be left in the past
You’re like a battle rap version of the Confederate flag
Plus Bender’s a fat, white, neckbeard with oxycontin in his boots
Plus racist cops let them pick and choose shitty food in Hitler’s Youth
So catch him in Burger King with a vest on like Dylann Roof
But you pray for Soul either way I’m the survivors of the Christian group
It’s like an APB on a weed charge how I’m killin’ dudes
I’m 5-0, Pig, Sketch, Wize Guy for Hindu Kush
And I will B-52 Flight Distance too
This Action Bronson-lookin’ motherfucker ’bout to feel like he just dissed the Wu
Ya’ heart emo, Suicide Squad vers’ scarred cheekbones
You can play Jared Leto, you aren’t Heath though
That free bird you get hammered on solo ain’t Guitar Hero
So either my pen kill him or buyin’ out the bar will: Carlito
But I’m not gonna say how, your whistle ain’t the only thing the kid’s been wettin’
I’ll save that, this round’s your grace period, next round is your intervention
Behave yourself

[Round 2: Bender]
I didn’t come here to be insulted, and so far I’m not, so God bless
I thought you were a monster out there, I shoulda got ’em to lock Ness
With your nervous laugh giggling at your own jokes, it’s pathetic
You add that laugh in, it’s not a sitcom, ’cause you worried no one’ll get it
Soul been obsessed with writing this match, I been sitting ’round, eating cereal
Figured I could show up with Loe’s or Osa’s B-material
I said so Loe, got any bars for Soul oh forget it I’ll handle this solo
It’s gon’ be Bender 3 Soul 0 when I bury Soul so low God won’t be able to reach his soul, Loe
I’m on some Olive Garden shit, I’ll put a knife in his breadbasket
You look like your mother had you doing ice before Sex Packets
I toss a half gram to your junkie family, watch those meth addicts get savage
Fighting over five points like the Dead Rabbits
Jed clamp it, you’re getting schooled overseas, that’s a student exchange
I’m dope as the garbage you shoot in your veins
Truly a shame how you ruined your face every tooth in decay like the US of A
‘Cause you’ve been awake just abusing that H, moving in [?] of Peruvian flake
So you look the same as some human remains they exhumed from a grave after 200 days
No food on your plate, you been starving
Funny you don’t eat hardly, but still manage to brush your teeth three times a day, with a green Sharpie
Makes me wanna bottle Soul with a Dos Equis till he go to sleep and put, Soul in a tub with the lime like a Mexican beach party
You feeling froggy? You beating on me’s like a neo-Nazi leader reading calmly to his following ’bout the People’s Army of Vietnam while preaching Marx and Leon Trotsky: you won’t see that probably
You got a Steven Hawking’s chance of even leaving walking
In fact don’t even stand by me, the kid’s trying to see a body
You light a blunt? It’s getting snatched out your mittens
You piping up, you getting slapped with the quickness till you, ask for forgiveness like a act of contrition
I just, ash on your face like a Catholic tradition

[Round 2: Soul]
Now Pesci didn’t talk about all that nasty shit that happened in London
Huh, but I will, ’cause I think it’s very very important that we have this discussion
See Bender had just battled Arkaic, guess he had a couple drinks as well
Blacked out at Cruger’s house and, woke up to an iffy smell
And a, damp spot, figured maybe his bottle of liquor fell
Nope, this grown-ass man, in his sleep, pissed himself
What? Bruv, and you said you were pissin’ on his couch?
You weren’t pissin’ on his couch, you were pissin’ in your pants, while you were sittin’ on his couch
That’s a big fuckin’ difference you neglected when they beat ya’
Your bladder’s outta control: president of FIFA
So let me ask you a question Ben’, how do you have any friends when you’re a middle-aged alcoholic battle rapper that wets the bed?
You know that you’re pathetic when, you pull chicks on MSN, have sex with them, pull the condom off and the inside looks like, yellow phlegm
But don’t be fooled by the condoms he has, he puts them on when he wanks
And leaves them on after he nuts as a colostomy bag
He gets a pack a week, the pharmacy’s just thinkin’ it’s for sex
‘Cause they ask what happened to every chick that’s in his bed
And they listen to what’s said, now those bitches are impressed
But when they say “We got ridiculously wet”, that isn’t what they meant
But one of the chicks at the clinic was a 10 so he slid in those DMs
We see how quickly that a sket could, switch into a “friend”
‘Cause she went drinking out with Ben’, he started pissin’ down his leg
Had that bitch steppin’ in puddles like, chivalry is dead
Son, when you was in diapers, I was with Fifers
14 days ago, writin’ this fire
You was at home, pants in your dryer
Cryin’ in bleach tryna whiten your sheets
Rap’s changed if you take him serious or treat the guy like a legend
See what happened is funny, what it implied is depressing
I mean listen to his music, he even said it to us once
“Respected as a writer, legendary as a drunk”
Legendary as a drunk? You mean depressing as a drunk
You mean body broken by your mid-twenties as a drunk
You mean smelling like a drunk
You mean sweating like a drunk
You mean dressing like a drunk, body swelling like a drunk
Scraping pennies like a drunk
Fucking pathetic like a drunk
You mean wrecked your life so extradite the ending like a drunk
People out there dyin’ based on race, you dyin’ from a path that you chose
That’s why Black Lives Matter, and black livers don’t
Behave yourself

[Round 3: Bender]
Now this is where it gets weird
You can adopt my style all you want, but I be damned if you steal my neckbeard
That’s funny you thinking shit’s all good
I’m tryna wipe Soul off the map, I’m on that Kim Jong-un
He got his name to compensate, for what apparently he lacks
See a soul’s something an artist should have inherently attached
If it was natural, there’d be no reason for it
And we wouldn’t need Soul to spell it out like a Ouija board
See I woulda put you under the wing like the fuel exhaust by the fuselage
But you just crossed the Rubicon, there ain’t no moving back
I’ma have you losing fans, Sonny Chiba, snatch your eye out
Check your sight, after this, I’m cutting your views in half
And you the champ of Don’t Flop? You ain’t beat Tony D, who gives a shit?
The belt should be something that you earn, it’s not a gift you get
It’s like if Pat said “I’m done with the chain, I’m not interested”
Okay up next for the title, we got Denali versus Mischief, hold it down everybody, it’s gon’ be three rounds unlimited
So speak that trash son, it’s ’bout to be a fast lunch
I can see your fan club had you believing that buzz
You got handed this match? That’s some really bad luck after being gassed up like a Vietnam monk
He knows his presence is shit
He never known for spitting basic though, he don’t depend on his wits or ever flow with a switched-up cadence
He, knows his penmanship’s it, so he, focus scribbling pages
Funny I bring out the best in him just to expose his limitations
Your fam upset, taking this match was hella dumb Soul
Your mom Linda tripping on the line like “Tell your son, though”
My network spanning overseas like Telemundo
One phone call could fuck up Soul career like El Producto
Gordy Berry, I’m exploiting Soul for the guap
Ghostbuster proton beam, put Soul in a box
We’re still doing those box lines, right? Soul it don’t stop
The splash hit him like a baptism, Soul getting washed
So after this footage of you and I drops
They gon’ have the champ here on suicide watch
Let the king of all Scots, ring off one shot
When he taste the smoke from the barrel, that’s not a single malt scotch

[Round 3: Soul]
So they say our styles the same and I guess basically they are
So this a tenth planet system, it’s a changing of the guard
See the difference is, I punch every two bars, however long the scheme is
That’s a means to an end, yours are the ending to your meaning
‘Cause you punch every 16, and it’s irrelevant and themeless
Like motherfucker, it’s called the setup for a reason
So maybe we did the same style, but I changed the essence and made progression
You still usin’ the same style you robbed Arcane and lost the chain to Sketch with
When he take your necklace we could say that Ben’ had got Ilena pregnant
‘Cause he lost his life and drive by ‘Cane and Menace
That’s why these days King Of The Dot don’t think that Ben’ should travel
‘Cause he pissed the bed in real life and shit the bed in battles
Think this bitch could rep his flag? Well how’s that white, red maple feel?
I rep my flag like Chris Kyle, that white X navy seal
So catch me in St. Catharines, gettin’ Satanic where the stained glass is
The God MC, save drafts in a grey granite slate tablet
But wait Travis, he’s from St. Catharines? I went St. Patrick’s
Which is funny ’cause after his last few the staff should have this snake banished
I became champ, you failed to remain champ in the same bracket
And gave Zack the chain Patrick Stay had when your weight vanished
They should give out printouts in battles while Drake’s at it
‘Cause they PayPal chips to support your, ‘caine habit
Now you can blame acid and straight absinthe for your brain damage, memory loss and gay antics, or struggling to stay standing
But I got Ghostface passion, whoo, the same clansman
So even if Soul playin’ I kill him soon as they say action
No Bronson, no blogging, just straight snappin’
And you, with your face wrapped in grey plastic
You’re not fuckin’ with me, I’m Ultimate Team, let’s trade packets
And I’ll take back whatever they paid in man and it ain’t Madden play-mapping
I’m sayin’ Ganik, we may had the same stats but his game’s trapped in the same graphics
I changed tactics, you stayed static, you try force it you face Ganon
I go Bane mask, Blade fangs and Bale acting, that’s straight batshit
You just a drunk we could find on the road like Sage Francis
His life’s like the three elements, it’s shaved grams as a plate scratchin’
And if he, passed out in his paint pal, I spray graf on the same canvas
He pull a b-boy stance, in a straitjacket
I said three ’cause he ain’t rappin’, I spun him soon as the card dropped like we breakdancin’
Behave yourself man

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