Dizaster vs. Gjonaj [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Gjonaj]
I said it’s a heavy burden to bear
When the whole world knows you’re next up
I compare it to telling someone manic depressive to get up
Because it’s not as tough as writing a set-up
On how you got set up
I’ll kick his corpse, no remorse, this shit is gift-wrapped
I’m on his porch, Trojan Horse: this shit is gift-trapped
Oh, now you get it? I mean, how specific
Can I possibly get when I only got about a minute?
Tell Lux I don’t need coffins
I’m a cannibal, I don’t just kill, I feed off it
That was in poor taste, let’s cut to the chase, I’m a cold killer
Here to shed light using no filler
I had to take dog out back and shoot him
Since he ain’t shit but an old yeller!
Now how many of you caught that shed connection in the building? None of you… okay, one of you, I’m not judgin’ you
But that’s what makes the top tier uncomfortable
So, try and convince them I’m too specific or overuse religion
Well, let me ask you something, bitch
How do you spend all this time travelling
And never came up with shit futuristic?
Speaking of, if I’m you, then I’m a real-life looper
Sent to bury the past
See, that meaning was genius, but you compare me to trash
Organik had faith I wouldn’t bury his ass
But Donatello’s goin’ to die tryin’ to carry the staff
So, Splinter Cell black ops, or Sleeper Cell Matlock?
A modern-day David, slayin’ Goliath with a crack rock
You fuckin’ junkie, the truth is ugly
Too bad you and your Lush buddy snorted up the hush money
So make them laugh, because you’re fuckin’ funny
And they can all relate
Enough bodies to stretch across China, yet they try to stall a great
Walls replaced doors that were never open for you and me
I took the tunnel underground, fans said foolish me
You climbed abruptly; that’s Humpty-Dumpty
The fall’s not confusing, see
Crack’s got you pouring out your insides
And now you’re a shell of what you used to be
You’ll never get it together, stop tryin’
Stick to being “Lebanon-violent,” it’s already looking lopsided
I ain’t dissin’ you when I say, “shots fired”
That .38 Special treatment with the rubber grip
My cousin dumpin’ it
Diplomatic immunity, capital punishment?
Naw… passport, Visa, luggages, trust me
If shit get raw, Tim McGraw: I got faith he’ll get out the country
It’s gettin’ ugly, because pen-wise I’m better than everyone
That’s a hell of a standard, and I’m settin’ one
A rise as quick as mine was never done
They said have a war, I’m Marcus Lattimore
I hit the big leagues and could never run
What, did I end it badly?
Okay, two-dollar hooker: this shit extra nasty
For those sayin’ we’re the same and are never happy
You’re Marcus Lattimore, too: your career ends in Cali, early!

[Round 1: Dizaster]
Check it out, hummus-breath!
They got me over here at Back to BAYsics
Getting my film on with a perfect stranger
Look, everybody, it’s Balki Davids
I’ll admit, the last couple of years, I’ve been real sloppy
I gave all these people a reason to sleep on me
But now, I promise you a jellyfish
Because this here is about to be a real body
I told this bitch, he said he want to get it to pop
He said: “Norbes said we could get you the guap.”
I was like, “Alright, then, let’s get this shit locked.”
He was like, “For real, you gon’ do it, Diz?”
I was like, “Yeah… on King of the Dot!”
All the way from the one stage that matters
Oh, shut the fuck up! Time for you to fuckin’ face your master
Your name is “Gjulaghula”
But the Mayan civilization used to have an ancient calendar
Which should’ve been the only thing they ever named you after
Because ever since 2012 you haven’t been shit but a fake Dizaster
Trust me, after this, you gon’ get your wish
And become a famous rapper
But to get in the spotlight, you needed a star with a big name
So I’m not your god, I’m your Big Bang
Bitch, I’m what made you matter!
You little fuckin’ ungrateful bastard
At least you could’ve gave me a little fuckin’ thankyou after
Because, bitch, I helped you climb up the rankings faster
But this a fucked up game
I should’ve never gave these snakes a ladder
Listen, I’ll slap this furry little fuckin’ Persian in his furry face
For tryin’ to regurgitate every verse I made
This person’s fake, he catches bodies
But off an image that’s not yours: you’re a surrogate
Pay attention, this shit’s karate
This is like Daniel-san versus Mr. Miyagi
If Daniel LaRusso’s role was played by Gilbert Gottfried
Suck a dick, Mr. Peabody!
You’re like John F. Kennedy, because your voice is the reason you’re goin’ to end up gettin’ bodied
And trust me, your homies told you that you gon’ 3-0 dude
They told you that your pen had enough bars in it to hold you
But you El Chapo; you lettin’ your friends dig your hole for you
And now it’s over, because you gon’ get smashed that simple
I swear to God: hashtag symbol — this Christian could die
I’ll put your wings in the sky like a Batman signal
You think you’re on the level I’m on? You’re mental
I’m monumental, I’ll Ichabod chop off your temple
You’ll see nothing but stares as his head rolls
Like a scene from Apocalypto
Because you ain’t the original OG you been claimin’ to be
You like Cassidy, because 90 percent of your shit is trash
But the best shit you ever had was your imitation of me!

[Round 2: Gjonaj]
Just admit taking me was bad advice
You want the aura back you see I have, I’m fightin’ a stereotype
In a fucked up way, it’s like we battled twice
But you’re jealous of my success, I guess you’re mad I made it
I walked the road less traveled, and you claimed you paved it
You’re scared of me
One second I’m your favorite, next second you hated
So I waited, and baited ’til your fears made you write demands
You threw subliminals, instead of squarin’ up like a man
Bitch, I’m not Kitana: I ain’t here to fight with a fan
But I’m good with these hands, who you intimidatin’?
I only fear God… and immigration
They say you’re the best, somethin’ I’ve never seen before
I figured you’d bring up that fuckin’ line in your battle, right?
You know what line I’m talkin’ about?
“Couple retreat like Vince Vaughn”? Yeah, of course
Like I’d spit a line of yours that didn’t have any force
Don’t you find it funny
That the worst bar of my P.G. was actually yours? Suck a dick!

[Round 2: Dizaster]
When the rules are fine… I choose the spine
I hate it when they call me Dizaster
It makes me want to lose my mind
I’m not Gjonaj or Dizaster – I’m the two combined
I’m an upgrade, and I’m a new design
I take some of your rhymes and take some of mine
I do it like how your eyebrows used to be and fuse the line
He couldn’t come to Detroit, so I brought the war to your premises
I am more than your nemesis; I bit your Vince Vaughn line
And acted like I didn’t know that you said the shit
The West Coast don’t respect me
So how am I supposed to accept this shit?
I’m underrated, because I’m over-affectionate
Pay attention, I said “under” then I said “over”
That’s how I go over heads with it!
Reality is, I took this for fun
And I’m embarrassed that they even comparin’ cats
When beyond our heritage and appearance
Well, there’s a gap between us, and here’s the fact
They got me starin’ back at a parallel mirror match
With another Arab cat, it’s Yasser Arafat in a New Era hat
He got the 22-inch rim on his prayer mat
There’s a difference between us
He acts like a terrorist, I do terrorist acts
You don’t carry gats or ever air your straps
And if you did, it would be at a range
Like the marriage that your parents had
But I can tell you’re mentally prepared
From the fucking amount of cologne you got on
And the fucking pound of gel that’s in your hair
Outside of your home turf, you ain’t respected anywhere
Even in Detroit, they don’t take you seriously
You ain’t even the best from over there
You’re like a periodic table
Because even in your own element you’re a square
He wants to be like Dizaster
Waiting for a natural Dizaster to happen
When they ask him, “Why do you act like Dizaster?”
He says, “I don’t act like Dizaster, it just naturally happens.”
Hangin’ out in Detroit, he’s tryin’ to be hard
Tryin’ to show all his black friends he got street smarts
When he’s kickin’ it with them
He keeps his green card tucked under his EBT card
Fuck you, Vlade Divac, Ginobli!
And whatever this faggot looks like, it’s all part of my story
They try to copy the form
But what they got in store for me was a Kinko’s
Something went wrong when they cloned me
I told you, he came out looking like a fucking retarded Ginobli
Comparing us is like a knockoff to a Rollie
See, we look the same from far
‘Til you get all up in his face and start watching him slowly
You can tell by the way the hands move that he’s obviously phony
Listen, you and what squad gon’ destroy me?
You and all of your homies look like the iPhone 6 Punjabi emojis

[Round 3: Gjonaj]
Bitch, you picked when and where
I’m surprised the contract didn’t have an outfit you picked to wear
And a stipulation on how I did my hair
Bitch, three weeks and two minutes?
Just admit you were fucking scared
And thought I’d be less prepared
But like Will Graham, I got a killer kind of vision
I stalk each and every one of my blind victims
You take too long to punch, you use multis as a crutch
To disguise filler — and I’m fine with it
Because I realized that’s why you’re so fuckin’ scared of time limits
And you’re a snake to a whole new scale, and you hide in it
Waiting to strike, you turned your back on Daylyt in five minutes
You marked out, Day loaned me a cal
With a note on the revolver
It read, “Diz, Total Slaughter,” did you get the theme?
Show up at his fucking house and let it sing
Are you religious? Because here’s where I connect the scheme
That 40 Day lent me will have you give up everything
It’s all over, I began to script your death in structured verses
Judgment day, you rapped your ass off for what it’s worth
I’ll reign longer than God when he flooded Earth
Kings get thrown from chairs they sit on
Face it, you’re basically gettin’ spit on
All them views, and fell off, we should’ve battled on the rooftop
Because you ain’t had a decent punch since Billy Boondocks
This is suicide, you knew you’d die, it’s a cry for help
You lost everything and everyone, you’re all by yourself
It’s like Waldo playing “Where’s Waldo?” — you had to find yourself
Because that old Diz is dead
You’re not a killer, so you had to play pretend
I’m talkin’ to you like a child, I know you feel that way again
Because we’ve never seen the bodies: that’s imaginary friends
With that being said, if you didn’t think I could battle with a vet
Show me some actual respect
Or get a fuckin’ life, like the Lazarus Effect
How long did the dead last in the first place? Are you impressed?
That just goes to show you I got a sick sense
I’ll kill them all, and just wrote big checks
If we talkin’ bread (inbred), your family fuckin’ dead: necro-incest
Fuck who been next, the future of battle rap, who’s stoppin’ me?
I’m intellect, introspect, disrespect, philosophy
You hear “Homer” and think Simpson, I think Odyssey
You honestly probably thought he would body me
But I showed you the difference between us is quality, goodnight!

[Round 3: Dizaster]
I guess it’s safe to say I’m already up 2-0
So if I was you, I would just start takin’ cover
Y’all heard of the Jonas Brothers?
Well, these guys are the Gjonaj’s Brothers
I am jealous of you, because I could never get a cab driver like you
Shit, your cab drivers drive you to the battle
Then walk inside the venue and stand behind you
And for them cats that keep on bringin’ up the Math shit
Cats like you, you did it on stage, faggot, what’s your deal?
For Christ’s sakes, throw hands with me, then
If that’s how passionate you feel
Exactly, you cats act like me until you have to scrap like me
Then your personality’s revealed
One sandy hook on this stage will prove this Dizaster isn’t real!
You’re like a German Jew: you let your people gas you up for real
Just like Chuckie in the last Child’s Play
Because your fans gon’ get you killed
Clap with the steel
Backshots leave his stomach empty like Ally McBeal
I don’t play games, they train me to kill
From long range hittin’ shit
It’s like watchin’ Limitless: your brain will get peeled
Bullets break through the shield
You get away, then I’m sendin’ four giant shells
Comin’ after you like April O’Neal
You say you got skill
And you called yourself something from Looper
So you ain’t the future, you Bruce Willis from Looper
Because you haven’t been yet engaged in this field
I’m goin’ to show you how to hit him in the head
Because that’s the best shot
That’s the best spot, hit the vet’s top
Hit the top of the windshield, because that’s the best spot
It’s not like it’s the tires I’m after
I’m an aspiring actor: I’m just lookin’ for that perfect headshot
Open the door, then the lead pop, it’s a leg shot
His homie drive off with his feet danglin’ under the car like Bedrock
Headshot, he can get it at any time of the night: that’s a Redbox
If I bring the toys, you’re fucked: that’s a sex shop
I’ll chop this camel’s head off, then put it on my shelftop
That’s a cigarette shop… that you guys own
I can never get washed: I’m a dreadlock
If your homies don’t start actin’ down-to-earth
Then they can get dropped
Then I’ll send both of their bags upstairs like a bellhop

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