So, you’re retiring, aren’t you?
Your time is borrowed
You’ll be dead by tomorrow
Say goodbye to Arsonal
I gave you a chance rapping first: The Life of Pablo
Your final battle’s with Loaded Lux, ’cause he got the best showmanship
But your Iron match is second-to-last ’cause my pen ultimate!
ONCE AGAIN, YOU HERE…UP IN ANOTHER CRACKER’S STATE!
UP ON ANOTHER CRACKER’S STAGE!
(UP IN ANOTHER CRACKER’S FACE!)
Brothers and sisters, let’s thank the God over our heads
That we don’t EVER HAVE TO HEAR THAT FUCKING SLOGAN AGAIN!
Bitch, I will speed past you after you retire
You just a pit stop
I’m the gift shop: you had to see me on your way out to get props!
You old Okwerdz got burned, Whoopi Goldberg lesbian lovin’
Gotta picture sucking dick just to have sex with a woman!
You old showboating, fake-wrestling rapper Hulk Hogan
Can’t write enough bars for one round without four slogans
I thought a job that you oughta try when you duck out would be a crossing guard
You’d be good at holding up signs on a bus route!
See, in his bars, he’s the hardest
But divide the art from the artist
And Ars’ is the most harmless on my “People I Wanna Harm” list
I only took money ’cause the price I charged was high
He lacked the credit, so everybody else on the card declined
I FUCKING HATE…that y’all gave me Arsonal
Bro, I’d rather be sippin’ liquor
Watching Patrick and Kenny bicker ’bout which rapper’s the bigger wigger
Help me understand how a hustler from your hood would do
Cook coke and the crack rock
That’s the process you put it through
Sell the rock to the fiends to get high, they cook it, too
So, why, when we saw you with Tay, Roc was cooking YOU!?
I don’t see how people condone your seat at the throne
When, even in Jersey, you second seed is a Jones
And leaving your home, you don’t do nothing unique, you a clone
On UDubb the only time he on a league of his own!
You fill the house with your homies, your right-hands, so everyone claps
On the road, you behind every round: you a mudflap!
Like, in Detroit, we thought that you’d be riding down with C’s
The type of rowdy G’s who move on every side of town with ease
You acting harder than a jerkoff that’s right about to skeet
And how you handled yourself had you flying out the D!
No, no, no, no, no, no!
But Arsonal’s squeezing Tommy’s, shottys
Holding heat for homi’s
Made a killing in his building, and didn’t leave the lobby
I’m thinking Wilson from Home Improvement
Y’all on the fence if you believe him, probably
‘Cause we hear him talking ’bout the tool, man, but never seen a body!
Bitch, you won’t squeeze a button to fire burners!
You holding heat for nothin’
If Ars pull a handle, and rounds come out, it’s a pizza oven!
I keeps a fucking ratchet on my side like a cheating husband
Teach him somethin’, open up his mind like a deep discussion
Or feed him punches ’til he sleep like the Reaper cousin
Your bitch is bad
She has to face me: I’m the repercussions!
I got her on her knees for somethin’, like she think Jesus comin’
But I’m an atheist, ’cause she’s the one that I be leavin’ nuttin’!
GOD! GOD! GOD! GOD!
Your girl finna pray in more than a religious way
Adam and Eve: this bone I gave her made her who she is today!
Bro, I hit her with some dick to suck, and never let her spit it up
And ever since I taught her how to swallow, now her shit is nuts!
I put it all in her butt crack, then squirted on her spine
Don’t call it a comeback!
[Round 1: Arsonal]
Once again, I’m here!
This the last time y’all gon’ see me
Ain’t no “Sike, I lied!”
I hope you motherfuckers believe me
They said, “Ars’, you got Solomon!”
I said, “The white boy who been ducking me since the Fight Klub?”
They said, “Right! Yuh!”
Ideas came in: I lit up like a lightbulb
I said, “Well, his wife love dressing up like a nurse, wearing tight scrubs…”
She like Angela from Power
She ready to suck a nigga dick quick in the nightclub
This is not easy
You will not beat me
I will have your Jewish bitch having full-blown-out conversations in Swahili
You gon’ know she got some NIGGA DICK when she show up to your battle, rocking a daishiki!
Talking ’bout black power
Telling you that you ass to your face: Rikishi!
You wanted to talk about my bitch, so let’s talk about your bitch
My voice a little hoarse, too
Your bitch, I walked past her and her purse talked
It said, “Snatch me!”…I reverse-walk
I tried to get the sixteen digits off the front of the card
I…only seen the first part
Snitching what they do in your borough
That shit the worst talk
9 been on me since I came out the pussy: this shit a birthmark!
Suge, he got a thousand dollars in his pocket…I snatch a band off him!
I walk away, he give me the finger
I come back, and chop his hand off him!
First white boy I seen on Smack DVD, first time I ran ‘cross him
But he’ll never be a nigga
Why? Soon as he sunbathe, I’ll knock the tan off him!
Switch that: I said I flip page
Today, I walked in the venue with a switchblade, and a pistol
If I let it ring at you, do that mean y’all engaged?
I hit Solomon in his ribcage
Me? I’m just trying to avoid the big raid!
Police ask me where I was at between 9 and 10
I looked at them, and said, “Probably in the 5th grade!”
I’m the driver and the shooter, nigga!
Street fighter like Ken and Ryu
But I’m darker, AND my head nappy
I’m feeling like a cooner, nigga!
Everybody got their arms extended: we doing Zumba, nigga!
NO WORRIES! HAKUNA MATATA: TIMON AND PUMBAA, NIGGA!
I’m killing scrap
I conceal the strap, I’m for real with that!
Aim it at son roof: one button’ll push your ceiling back!
I’m finna zip him UP!
Bring the red leather from “Thriller” back
You a CRACKER that can’t say “NIGGA!”
You gotta DEAL with that!
You a green-eyed Jew with a mean IQ
If you had five heartbeats left, nigga, ask yourself, “What would Leon do?”
The beam on my Glock Crippin’: that shit NEON blue!
I put on a show every time I suit up, just like Deon do
This how I get ’round vets
Lipo surgery: leave you ten pounds less
You ain’t capitalize off yo’ name, nigga, and flip ’round checks
You the original white boy from the DVDs! How you just NOW flex!?
You KNOW I’m a stand-up nigga
That’s why we ain’t had a sit-down YET!
I own UDubb, I get my OWN bread!
I’m on point off-top like a Conehead
I’m trying to figure out what YOU on…like my niggas ask when they phone dead!
Man…oh yeah! (*chuckles*)
You a check and a Lux warm-up!
Miyagi know ain’t no cloning Daniel
You a Jew-ass cracker! I should KICK you with some Jehovah sandals!
What kind of iron are you known to handle!?
Me, my arm be fully extended
Look like I’m shootin’ out a Roman Candle!
LONG nose! Shit be looking like a swordfish!
Oh, my Sig official, too: I ain’t gotta forge shit!
I burn down on him, reach for the Glock with the long grip
And…beat Iron with the hammer like a swordsmith!
I said, CAH-RIIIIIIP! You niggas see the loccin’!
Shit get REAL when a G approach him!
Strays flyin’ will raise Iron like hemoglobin!
Aye, Aaron, nigga! I’m about that iron for REAL!
Go ‘Pac with the steel
Bishop style, how I’m POPPIN’ the steel!
Bulldog from Baton Rouge when you get shot in your grill
With a New Orleans .44
Let’s see if SOLOMON HEAL!
You a pelican!
And you finally ran into Darrell again
You CRACKA-ass CRACKER! You Metlife melanin
My shit is REAL, my shit is RAW, my shit is AUTHENTIC!!
And you can’t spell BARS without putting (that Ars’ in it!)
[Round 2: Iron Solomon + (Arsonal)]
You actually wanna be that close…when you’re spitting your verse in my face?
You feel more comfortable being in my personal space?
Bro, what the shit be goin’ on inside of yo’ mind
That you convinced that you recitin’ dope lines?
In yo’ rhymes, you wanna put my skin and religion under a microscope? Fine
You exposed me, Ars’…I been white this whole time!
You lost to Pat, Bishop, Shotty…Shotty…
And today, when I beat you
It’s badminton…you just keep gettin’ played by white people!
So I’mma scalp Ars’ and stuff his dreads under my black hat
Then tap-tap just to give him G Mayne Frost flashbacks!
YEAH! YEAH! YEAH!
I thought you was gangsta, had a squad that moved wit’cha
I thought dude was bigger
But, dawg, you let him call you a-
It’s time to look inward-
(Exactly! Exactly! EXACTLY!)
It’s time to look inward
Are you Darrell the bus driver, or Ars’ the thug?
Are you really committed to this Crippin’!?
Maybe you are a Blood…
I mean, I guess it’s true
You moved to Florida, which is best for you
A swing state that can never choose
So they flip-flop between red and blue!
Is it that you stupid, dude!?
OH! The marijuana got you confused!
Every time this square gets twisted, he switches colors like a Rubik’s Cube!
Bro, my man Quill is a real Grape
You hang out with Blood friends
A and Lyt are like day and night
You not down with son set!
So stop chasin’ the Purple Grapes
And just study the Purple Tape
Why you still tryna perpetrate?
Darrell, you are 38!
Yo, but these younger kids who actually believe this chump’s a Crip
Is throwin’ up the 6, and don’t even have a cousin that’s from the clique
Now every time a pussy opens up his lips
You’re the dickhead who started that fuckin’ shit like, “Just the tip…”
WHAT!? WHAT!? What!?
Yo…to get through these next bars, I need a drink
Someone pour a shot up
Baby girl had a brain tumor
When I think of her poor father, I might cry
So my eyes wide, ’cause if I blink, they’ll just pour water
It’s hard to think, ’cause as a father…I JUST WISH IT WAS YOUR DAUGHTER!!!
So I could put her out of her misery
My ox’ll do it tenderly
A gentleman, he’ll open up her ribs for me: that’s chivalry
Then I’ll Kennedy her memory
I’m just messin’ with her mentally
I’ll finger-FUCK the hole, I’m literally adding insult to injury!
I’m disrespectful, disrespectful
Maybe I’ll just take your wife
I’ll lay the pipe like great advice
It’s easy to give it to her, but it’s hard for her to take it right
I’ll bang your baby moms in the baby room
Bust my babies twice on her baby wipes
MAKE YOU RUB IT IN HER PUSSY THE NEXT TIME YOU CHANGE HER DIAPS!
Then I’m dippin’ to the kitchen to switch the grease with my snot-rockets
Eatin’ his Hot Pockets, and feedin’ the dog chocolates
Bro…none of that’s clever
That’s why I didn’t fuck with you ever!
‘Cause everything you could do…ANYONE CAN DO BETTER!
How is it even disrespect-ful if these are empty threats?
That’s why I second-guess this disrespectful Ars’ in your bars we’ve never met
Offstage, he speaks to me polite
So I’ll believe the hype
The day that Shotgun Suge teach himself to read and write!
Look, the disrespect is make-believe
He ain’t what he has claimed to be
A hateful scream the latest meme
The lamest way to paint his scene
A parlor trick, a crazy theme
It’s just a crutch, a lazy scheme
See, Ars’s pen is average
That’s why everything you say is mean!
You’re not nice, you’re not nice, man
But when this cockroach’s head gets ripped off
He still survives…it’s just that he doesn’t ever evolve
So now the highest perch you can aspire to when you write a verse
Is that you and Hitman Holla’s pens can be tied for worst
And y’all are top-tier? I need some different recognition
‘Cause I don’t wanna be top-tier if this fits the definition!
Yo, to be honest, I’m only battlin’ you here tonight
‘Cause after Diz, Nigel needs another two years to write!
[Round 2: Arsonal]
Word to Hitler, I can’t stand you (Jew), so I’ma concentrate on your camp now
If Anne Frank was still alive, I’d tell that bitch get on her knees and pull my pants down
Take this load! All of it!
Then go cum-swap wit’ ya aunt now
Soon as I play wit’ the .30, it got a ring ASAP
I feel like Durant now
I’m usin’ 100 percent of my brain
My subject matter’s Limitless
Let me finish this
Them Nazi niggas, they moved off Hitler’s fists
You always talked a good game, but only showed up to the scrimmages
That’s why your great-grandparents ain’t never make it on Schindler’s list!
No rules to the sermon
Maneuver I’m swervin’, it’s time I skate off
You Jews is determined
My Ruger is German: I’m lettin’ eight off (Adolf)
Durin’ Hanukkah, I’mma disrespect your yarmulke…knock it straight off!
Stab you in your chest wit’ a knife and kick the handle til it break off
Nigga, my mind demented, I’m all kind of ig’nant
Nine extended, I was ridin’ wit’ it in a Honda Civic, steady mobbin’ wit’ it
I flew from Jersey to LA, then drove to Compton wit’ it
Now I’m in your face ’bout to go upside your noggin’ wit’ it
Is that you (Jew)? When I’m comin’ at you (Jew)
Word to the Book of Matthew
Hands sharp, but I’m strapped too
Draw on him: no tattoo
Clap you with a .30 clip that’s longer than Shaq’s shoe
If there was a logo for disrespect, then I’ll be the statue
I’m in a different bag
I’m face-to-face with you like my vision bad
Remember, you still white! Don’t make me O.J. Simpson mad!
‘Cause you’ll get that Nicole treatment with a different stab
Holidays missed his ass
I’ll make you (Jew) the Ghost Of Christmas Past
I’ll nut in your bitch belly and let it sit in her navel
We just chilled, no Netflix and I didn’t have cable
I walk in your mother house and sit at that table
Then say, “You Jewish bitch, what you gon’ do when I chop yo’ son hand off?
How the fuck you plan on spinnin’ that dreidel!?”
Your career ain’t come wit’ a spare, you never could re-tire
Jewish lawyers the best, y’all borin’ so y’all could be liars
But to tell the truth, on the hood, we bias
I mean because we black
All we gotta do is sticks together: yeah, that would (wood) be fire
Now I said was that you (Jew) that let this germ in (German)!?
Well God bless you
.32’s all special
You ain’t my amigo I off set you
I done knocked out a couple of fans: I Artest you
You on the ID channel they lettin’ the dogs fetch you
They like, “Ars’, you ’bout to retire, so what’s next?”
You said, oh you think I’m finna ’bout to go back to them bus checks
You like, “Oh no. You think you finna blow cause you got a battle with Lux next.”
Well I could give a fuck less
You just another white boy that got me upset
One bet, and I got the money
100 thou’ that you never make it on Funk Flex!
This food for thought, I had to vent, I’m just talkin’ real
Cracker, you ain’t tryin’ to know how them divorces feel
Court appeals, bein’ sued for quarter mils
Fightin’ for your custody, not knowin’ how your daughter feel
Nigga, just the thought is real
Where my people come from? I was taught is real (Israel)
Now I’m tryin’ to figure out what I’m taught is real
They tried to say Jesus was white, nothin’ ’bout that thought is real (Israel)
I ain’t tryin’ to hear (hare) that-
C’mon, son! What!?
I ain’t tryin’ to hear (hare) that…now I know how the tortoise feel!
I love droppin’ jewels, but I’m a student first
So let me teach you ’bout these vibes in this universe
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell “bars” (without puttin’ that “Ars” in it!)
[Round 3: Iron Solomon]
My G, all that struggle and religion, that was true shit, bro
Jesus wasn’t white…but he was Jewish, tho!
Bro, your legacy’s already ruined, dude
And I’m already up two on you
So I got a round to waste (waist) on this body: let’s hula hoop
What’s poppin’ Surf? What’s poppin’, Tsu?
After all that snitchin’, the cops pursued you out the blue
Or your bars was slippin’, so you got a room with Ah Di Boom
So Surf’s inside the Feds
Oh, and stop hidin’ behind them dreads
Well, I don’t need a green light to swing right on Red!
I’m talkin’ Suge! O! Surf! Who else in the squad want it!?
Where’s Jai!? I’m tryin’ to get all of your four hunted (400)
Put it on my schedule
Y’all couldn’t touch my pedistal
You fuckin’ up my edible
What’s this tough guy credible?
Which part of this thug life is this one-dimensional
Some guy’s right testicle, punchline festival
Did you really take this battle to discuss my genitals!?
Tell your slut wife to suck my one-eyed tentacle!
I cannot condone
And I hope I’m not alone
A man writing rhymes about balls that are not his own!
Bro, Mook and Clips got Pythagoras stuck in Darrell’s mind
‘Cause that angle will just be the sum of them other square’s lines
You not original, in anything
I’m an O.G., the vet, the king
Of course I’m gaining weight, Ars’, ’cause GOATS eat EVERYTHING!
So I’m incredibly fat
You too slender to scrap
The fuck made you think you’d do better with Mass!?
Yo, I swore this was shit I would not do
Y’all think I’d really do this fuck shit? BITCH, I AM NOT YOU!
Yo, from the first time I heard a kick drum and snare, I knew this love was rare
I’d never disrespect the craft by comin’ unprepared
Like this money-hungry culture vulture who just doesn’t care
About his bars as much as what he’s gonna wear or how he does his hair!
Y’all know that one Arsonal move, where he do the head twirl?
And leave like a single lock hangin’ like a Superman curl
Bro, you a damn girl! I’ll do you like Fetty Wap did
And use extension to weave a Bald Head in your long dreads
I’m playin, I’m playin’
I don’t hold my own burners on me
I got muscle that bear arms like a shirt with no sleeves
Blood homies who carry Eagles, one word and they squeeze
I’ll have pops teach him ’bout the birds and the bees (B’s)
So send your locs to harm me, my local army is an oligarchy
They’ll be more Grapes popped in the mouth than a toga party!
My homies call it cow-tippin’ when we go to war
Because the soldiers all in the field to push the beef overboard
And when you on the ground layin’ on the flo’ flappin’
Just to make it a closed casket
I’m shootin’ down with the chrome clappin’
Got me lookin’ like Rone rappin’
This is like Conrad versus Joe Jackson!
‘Cause you might punch on a mic (Mike), but I toe-tag ’em!
Bro, don’t you have Lux next?
You better learn how to suck less
You ain’t ready for that work ’cause I’m the drug test
And you flunked this!
But if tonight, A survives, then Loaded will be the way he dies
We live in different states so I just booked this battle to say “Goodbye”
Rest in peace
[Round 3: Arsonal]
This last round…
You right, I ain’t give a fuck! (*chuckles*)
But our lifestyles, I’d compare ’em
While you was watchin’ 7th Heaven, we was livin’ Jason’s Lyric
At 18, you was already famous and still livin’ wit’ yo’ parents
At 18, nigga, ’bout 18 of my li’l niggas turned to spirits
I was livin’ a horror story
You was livin’ Dexter’s Laboratory!
I got two of my li’l niggas rotatin’, watchin’ the corner for me
At the snap of a finger, niggas’ll kidnap your daughter for me
Give the little bitch a bubble bath, and put piranhas in the water for me!
Me? I’m quick to draw on a nigga…I’ll autograph ya
You want these shells to peel before I kill the kid, or the morning after?
Man, where you used to be in life, and where you are now…that’s a big drop
‘Cause back then, you ain’t pretend, and you was doin’ it for hip-knot
But now you sound like you coulda been the newest member of Slipknot!
But I get it…you gotta water an Iron down for it to get hot!
See, I’m exposin’ Iron, while I’m holdin’ iron
Steady loadin’ iron
Your career slowin’ down
I guess whoever picked you (Jew), they control the dyin’
I mean, I been cold like I’m low on iron
It steam at the press of a button: now it’s a bunch of little holes in Iron!
C’mon, man, my status been legend
I’m trend-settin’, Ralph Lauren-dressin’
This a dream within a dream: Leonardo’ll call that Inception!
This like me puttin’ an Asian in his place, the way I’m chin-checkin’
I’d baptize your daughter
Hold that bitch under the water: fuck a swim lesson!
This a bit twisted
Your mom ain’t suck my dick, but the bitch kissed it
I got a sawed-off that bang heavy metal: that’s a limp biscuit
I’m really from that!
Niggas really died where we hung at!
I’m from a block where you liable to die
When you go the store, you might not come back!
Bruh! I promise you
Where I’m from, they don’t want you to be successful and alive
They don’t want that!
You can’t do two things at once
I’m from a block where you can’t walk and chew gum at!
My shit is real, my shit is raw…
Nah, y’all don’t want that!
I ain’t done rap!
Solomon, my dick, you could suck that!
Since you like talkin’ ’bout dick, I know you want that!
[Arsonal slaps Iron’s hat off of his head]
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic!
You can’t spell “bars” without puttin’ that Ars’ in it!
I love y’all, King of the Dot!
It’s forever, you know it!
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