Bill Collector vs. A. Ward [Lyrics]

[Round 1: A. Ward]
Most people know, you one of my favorites, Bill
This battle was on my bucket list
‘Cause in 2012, you was that dude, and nobody wanted that shot like Rumplemintz
But for me, it’s hard to come to grips, with the fact you so trash today
Y’all remember: “Tell’em D’s I got the E, get the F off my back, I’m a G”
That joint had classic plays
I often wondered why you left out the first three letters
Guess I get to show them how BC always comes after A!
So this where the game ends, blame ZM, ya man tried me
Said he had an idea he needed ran by me
And then I got that Bill Collector call, y’all know, scam likely
What up, Philly!? Y’all rock with this Norristown cat?
Well remember when Anderson Silva, knocked Forrest out flat?
Well, consider this round some sorta soundtrack
He get laid out quick with the hook I got the chorus down pat!
Bbb blat – I got the ..Bible! You know I got the Bible!
You heard about the Bible!!
Nah scratch that, this round Yahweh sacred
Heat like Beyonce’ fragrance, Lebron James greatness
You known for the prints (Prynce) Little Brother put on you
I’m Cyhi writing, on Phonte pages
Everything holy (holey), think Kanye made it
All talk aside like Conway Statements
At full strength, I’m beyond they favorites
So it ain’t nothin’ to retire Bill at half like Vontae Davis!
You not a threat
The only people you scare are the ones in a lotta debt
So watch ya step
Get ya weight up, chump
This all fire in the first, a layup, a straight up dunk
‘Cause you don’t gotta deal with Bill Collectors if you make ’em pay up front!
So what you got, Bill?
A rap sheet longer than the plastic track on a Hot Wheels?
Stop, Bill!
Everything you say fake, you not real
No, scratch that, backtrack
Everything you say fake ’cause that KNOT real!
Now I know, that angle played out, we already know about Showout swinging on ya face
We all know I’ma Christian, gotta feeling you prolly gon’ be bringing up my faith
But wait.. I don’t condone the violence, bro stop it
It’s a twist, I was actually convicted as a Christian on the whole topic
Obeying scripture isn’t easy for me, I’m bein’ so honest
And instead of turning the other cheek, well, you gave him ya whole noggin!
Bruh!! What happened to the gun bars and murder?
Ain’t that what you shoot and do to folks
You mean you hit John John from Japan…
But couldn’t reach STL with the Super Duper Scope?!?
Miss me with excuses, I ain’t tryna hear the Ifs, ands, now
Showout punched you, it was another quick strike that made Hitman proud
They said this was a style clash
I agree – fire…trash
And you named yaself after the one profession that tells everyone the call is wire tapped
(For quality assurance this call can and will be monitored)
Bill go ahead, talk about Jesus, pull out ya props
Don’t y’all know I whole heartedly disagree that he’s white
Dance around, entertain, you gon’ need it tonight

[Round 1: Bill Collector]
Now it was hard for me to write for you
I like what you do
You like genuinely the nicest guy I know and you popular, too
Like I couldn’t even get the super scope poppin’ at you
I got to thinkin’, “Well, damn. What would Prez Mafia do?”
So I ran off on the plug twice, went underground; Bug’s Life
Two packs (2Pac) strapped across my stomach, I’m talkin’ Thug Life
Then I got to thinkin’, “I’m Bill. You give me one mic
And special ed’ kid ’round Christmas, I get dumb nice.”
A flow major
I make ya stu’ dent (student)
I got an intuition
See Bill really smoke great rappers when he enter mission (intermission)
The double precision, that’s a hell of a vision
So I gotta charge, Noah’s Ark, double the chicken
See that Showout round was cute bro, you can talk about my personal issues
I don’t follow you enough to get personal witchu
See I figure, you was in a dark place in life then left that
You found God, changed your environment and I respect that
But God should’ve told you that facing Bill was a death trap
Your soul is forever in debt, I’m gon’ collect that
A. Ward good with the angles, helluva genius
This the Devil born in the flesh, the true demon
See I can hear the pain when you rap, you really mean it
You battle cause to express your true talent you really need it
That’s cool and all, but the gun bars, y’all believe it?
He outta shots and gets an extra clip from Jesus
You got legal guns, that’s why we can’t believe you son
You the people, talkin’ to them people when them peoples come
Clean record Ward, clean gun but you keepin’ huh?
But wouldn’t pump the bass up enough to bust a speaker drum?
See when Bill angle, it lead to the gutter, I’m a roof top
It get foul inside these lines, you get two shots
The tool pop, flip him ’round the ring, Scotty too hot
Them couple bucks get you the same [?]
Them two 23’s under his leg, he a shoe box
The square with a hole in the top, he a juice box
Ward I’ll burst blam, turn your church van into a Coupe drop
The Glock pop and crop top Hanson make him ‘Hmmm Bop’
Two shots through ya trunk, your passenger dead
Ward I’ll A.I. hang time the back of ya head
It’s like you unprepared in class how you askin’ for lead
Bein’ clumsy tryin’ to fish, Jesus pass him the bread
It be one pair of bloody footprints in the sand
This the real Catholic school where I can hit you again
I’m tryin’ to teach ya class a lesson, it’s principles man
You a child, I add a lesson from my principle plan
The Holy Ghost gave you the spirit, you should take flight

Airport- AYO! Hold it down! I’m catchin’ a body!

The Holy Ghost gave you the spirit, you should take flight
Airport lobby, I catch you sittin’ in plain (plane) sight
The shot got me feelin’ like God, I know that ain’t right
But the guns so big when it bangs it creates life!
40 bullet clean his scalp, straight through, in and out
Deuce deuce bullet bounce around, take the scenic route
2 on 2 tag team ya chest leave it steamin’ out
P. Diddy when these things pop, word to Stevie Stoute
I call ya moms Chilla Jones, I ask her what she schemin’ ’bout
She asked me what my semen ’bout, I skeeted then she seen me out
She said, “Father Bill why you never wanna eat me out?”
I said, “I don’t do that Arby’s bitch, what’s the roast beef about?”
Thank God the gun didn’t shoot, my case faded
Showout knocked me out, soon nigga we made it
Now you can thank the Lord for the shit
Brace yourself son, you got two more of this shit

[Round 2: A. Ward]
My rebuttal game crazy
He said he ain’t bring the Supa Dupa Scope this time, but kept shootin’ cause he had these hidden toys
Jukebox, yeah you pushed the wrong button so now it’s time to turn the page, I bring a different noise
Let’s talk Bill
You really wanna collect bills?
Put ya money on the 4 Horsemen – these days that’s the perfect bet
Cause got personality, pen, performance, poise and I ain’t even (ivy) scratched the surface yet
These cats? They get up here and rap like a nervous wreck, that’s why the fans boo’em
Not me
ZM gave me a price, I concurred, shook hands to it
Didn’t question the accuracy
Told him Benjamin’s talk, looked at Bill and walked up on’em like Cam Newton
I know you got the burna, I heard about the burna – but that ship sunk
The whole time you was dancin’ around with the burna, I was praying you ain’t spend eternity in one
You been done!
And y’all let him make y’all laugh without having a pen son?
Cause Bill be like:
Filler Bar Bill – double barrel split his roof wide!
Ya Chick a butter face, I ain’t kiddin get her tubes tied
Gun so big, just to shoot it I need two guys
Bullets like ya shoe size!
There ain’t nothing sweet about these rounds it ain’t a Moon Pie
Let me tell you something
I’m feeling extra polite
Ya style is one of a kind
That first round was impressive tonight
I got a feelin’ your career is over, the best is in sight
I see you as a main page; headliner
On every Gates Of The Garden event for the rest of your life
You bum! It’s time to hang up the gloves Erik it’s clear
Cause I had to watch all of your old battles to motivate me for this here
Cause you haven’t said or done anything impressive in six years
Let’s switch gears
My pen nice! Let us envision:
A death for Eric, but it’s apparent that I meant (mint) his condition
Forget a box for his mother, just to lessen the tension
I send him back wrapped in plastic, and tell her it’s the Collector’s edition!
I only fear God! – I do nothing scared
Beating me? Harder than finding the right lid for the Tupperware
So what we got? A couple squares?
Keep it a buck, jerk
I’m the son of royalty, the heir in this room and I don’t duck work
So you gon need a Lux verse, Verb “Woo!”, Surf quotes
E Ness “What” man, Marv beard, a Surf choke
All the super sayings, the the cadence you can insert jokes
And more arms raised than worship service with church folk!
You gettin’ worked bro
I got focused when they sent out a date
I put in extra work like 10 hour days
Then found out info I need to get out the way
Oh y’all ain’t know there R3 coke heads in the group? You think I’m lyin’?
Somebody get outta plate
Oh you roll your eyes
I’m lying scrap? Well you right at that
But it’s like buying hats
Cause it’s easy for white boys to get Bill bent outta shape
We are two totally different people, you admitted ya soul hollow
But the kids look up to us both, our actions they’ll fo’ sho’ follow
You wanna be a (w)rapper with a name like a Coke bottle
I ain’t worried bout the Dough, boy, I’ma different kinda role mode
So go ahead, spit your out of context Bible jokes, use ya props
I don’t believe that he’s white
Entertain, make jokes, you gon’ need it tonight

[Round 2: Bill Collector]
When I say “double bar” I’m not talkin’ about thee double
I’m simply usin’ the reference to signify my heat level
Is Bill hot? Yeah (Ye’s) and nah’s (Nas), I mean I ain’t Hova
Still fittin’ to hit you with Ether after the Takeover
Still heatin’ up for the bread, I’m the same toaster
Every time Bill Killa Cam’ no pink Range Rover
You really could’ve spared them rounds, now your frame over
It’s my turn to ball in the gutter, I’m the lane closer
The unflushable shit, I’m a straight floater
No coke bro, real good gas I smoke, I should thank Yoda
I make you hit the blunt, Jesus take you out “Saint” folder
And since I roll gold in the Cuban, now you a chain smoker
Bill stretched a white girl out, the word ain’t yoga
Our [?] be lookin’ twice as nice call it a make over
Today your brother Cannon is 247 days sober

[A. Ward]

[Bill Collector]
You can let him know right now that the weight’s over
I’ll put him right back on the base, he’s a great soldier
He called my phone to just yell “Dope!” (D’oh!) I said, “Hey Homer”
He want me to make his birthday cake lil’ bake soda
I call this new batch “chloroform” it got a faint odor
I hope you brung your girl bro, I’m tryin’ to put some stank on her
She’s cool with that ball park figure, she want me to put the Frank on her
I watch you leave for work from your door, the locks clank on it
Then Ed, Ed and Eddy ya’ bitch I go plank on her
I’m talkin’ double XP, I’m levelin’ up ranks on her
Kill streak the pussy I radio and tanks on her
I make her close her mouth on my kids, I go Drake on her
Then I show her little to no interest, I’m a bank loaner
I’ll Milly rock her, Franklin Stomp then Harlem Shake on her
She tried to run up on me in public, I act like I ain’t know her
Like baby, can we work it out? Then Billie Blanks on her
Now she Mr. Nice Guy cause Bill Half Baked on her
Words stewing over the beef, I’m a flame roaster
If you think it’s sweet then swing, I Sugar Shane Mosley
I let it ring twice then leave, he thinking James Posey
Then let it fast break to his bucket he left the lane open
The shot snap soon as slam, this the game poster
Twin cannons (Canon’s), hi-def lens, let me gain focus
The first forecast turn A. Ward to A. Roker
Ya team monkey around on the scene, the second Hangover

They sleepin’

[Bill Collector]
It’s all good cause I’m ’bout to spaz again, they got me in my bag again
I’m back again, bullets in board, I’m attacking (a tac’ing) him
You catch glove, fist, boot, leg, I’m a [?]
You sweet but you ain’t pure sugar you’se a saccharine
I gotta take a grown man to school; Billy Madison
I send a young whore for a profit (prophet); I’m Mary Magdalene

{fake chokes}

Psych (sike) I lied!
Eight days later came back I died
I’m Lazarus
Am I spazzin’ shit? Hefty bag and shit?
Alright good, cause I’m done rappin’

[Round 3: A. Ward]
I said it’s a lot of miles from Kansas City, I gotta bring my best and do this trip proud
Yellin’ all again in the second, he pulled the grip out
Told me, “I’m Double Bar Bill” then God silenced him mid round
That’s nice
That was so foul, you think I hack a Shaq
Said he Lazarus, come back at that!
Now let’s talk!
One battle, two battle, three battle, four
You out here taking battles galore
Bill what’s the matter you poor?
The people you rent your furniture be knockin’ all loud at ya door?
You tell ’em “I just locked in a one rounder. I promise I can have it tomorrow.”
Bill don’t you got a battle tomorrow?
What you on a battling tour?
He call time, we shake hands, you lean in, “Yeah, after this Ward…
You wanna go battle some more?”
And it’s on all these small leagues cause you don’t win where it shows
So I figure it’s only right that I send Eric’s soul
To a place where the streets would laugh at the lil’ 10 karat gold
I’m nice
I could care less how good he’s (‘Goodies’) been for this city (Ciddy), I know a (Noah) way through
So this 3-O (oh), gon’ be clean (Qleen), you think I’m lyin’ (lion) then (den) make moves
Old heads mad at the Raw talent
Cause when I ‘Level Up’ it plagues you
I give’m a cross to see (sea) and I credit JC when I won too (‘1-2) Step’ up and pay dues
Now that last four, ain’t have a lot of punches y’all could relate to
But it did say ‘Goodies’, ‘Oh’, ‘Level Up’ and ‘1-2 Step’, the scheme could be Ciara (BC era)
But I also mentioned Noah, plagues, Lions Den and Cross the Sea, things that happened in the BC Era
And I mentioned Ciddy, Raw, Qleen, JC – rappers from BC era
But this Devil Bar, Bill, he be makin’ ’em believers
He got what you need! Savior to the tweakers
You pop pills? Call Bill or he can lace you with sativa
And I heard the coke whiter than the Patriots receivers
Please bruh – you bring danger? Keep bangers
The metal kind like cheap hangers?
I’m ain’t concerned witchu or ya squad
Ya team basic
Money launderin’, I wash Bill and Qleen Paper
Where’s he at? He ain’t here. I had a fire bar for Quantum but since he ain’t here I’ll go a different route
And I had a crazy punch for Prez Mafia, but since he fell off that’s something I’m still on the fence about
Let’s get back to business now
You wanna pick the gun up still?
Let’em enter, heavy spender, run up Bill!
I get ya knot caved in
This ain’t a might win, it’s a Tide Pen, ya spot taken
Y’all gave Bill a check to throwing bullets out the Tom? I’m not playin’
Exactly, rope a dope, he comatose his mom prayin’
Take this into account, cause Bill not coming outta it I stop payments
Ya stock changin’, you not welcome here no more, the locks changin’
I started with an Easy W, now I bring the Beast to the ring, I’m Paul Heyman
You turn to Goku, Gohan, Vegeta with ya hot statements
I turn to the Bible, what’s super to a God Sayin?
But I ain’t come to get personal with you
I just hoped ya family, friends and ya burna was with you
Tell everyone else in Philly they can fall in line
I appreciate y’all
God is Good!

All the time!

[Round 3: Bill Collector]
Yo outta all the Jesus niggas you top 3 homie!
But I gotta correct you that round, God, last round ain’t stop me homie
I didn’t choke homie
Your brother Cannon called and I got no coke on me
All my work sinks good the water cause I pitch it well
Ward wanna act like he down give him a script to sell
Dark Knights this Joker be preachin’ all of my script then well
I hit him with a bat man (Batman) and that’ll make a Christian bail (Bale)
But he wipes and when he ran he slipped and fell
The 9 and 1 pre-dialed in his phone he came equipped to tell
[?] I make the bail stupid
Cross me? I wish you would (wood) I get you nailed to it
Lord forgive me, I let a big round sing to ya child, Chef the lunch man
Yeah you catchin’ every punch this scene, you the stunt man
Morgan Freeman show up as God like, “You should run fam’.”
Then Bruce Almighty I pull a seven on one hand
Ayo that pump blam you jump man, ya arm up ya legs fly
I wave him at the crowd surf, the shot make you stage dive
The left hand blew (blue) either I’m playin’ Twister or I’m goin’ colors
He mouse over, preview the clip, this bitch pourin’ up
I don’t care about that Jesus shit bro I put them shooters over top of ya
Flashin’ like a copier, niggas start stompin’ ya you flatter than Tilapia
Two arms run you up the steps, I’ll Rocky ya
Double gun butt you make you think I started boxin’ ya
I’m talkin’ Polamalu, Warren Sapp, Strahan, [?]
They gon’ need a doctor for your doctor to come doctor
No I’m not from Philly, but I’m neighborhood watching ya
Super duper scope attached with some binoculars
The 40 give him a buzz, he popular
Three of them thangs from the steel (steal) he’s Chef Trez Mafia
Is Ward gonna pull it and shoot? We shot clockin’ ya
Gun so big when it sings that ain’t the opera
That’s a fact lady
Extra gut, pack 80
Shots make ya spine slack, that means I sent you back lazy
Paramedics need the jaws of life and some back braces
The Nina make house calls I got the bitch Backpaging
It’s Dr. Bill, out for the kill, different house call
Hangin’ out the window, big MAC without saws
This Shotgun from Jersey a southpaw
Optical illusion, how the shots go in Ward (inward) and out Ward (outward)
Yo, ya mom like, “What y’all runnin’ in and out the house for?”
Cause the shot hit you indoors ya body landin’ outdoors
Shots make the cops turn your block to a chalkboard
This A will double you (W), kay (K), I’ll awk-Ward (awkward)
This is Training Day, he gettin’ his Ethan Hawke on
I take him out to [?] give him water to walk on
That means I get you baptized on angle dust
Aye Verb’s shot made the angels duck
My shot turns your angel’s dust
Ever since my name started ringin’ I been engaging stuff
Ward I’m The One in this Matrix I’ll beat ya Asian up
Every bar sharp as razor cuts, over paper cuts
A. Ward mom food, on every plate I’m raising up
You wouldn’t talk trash in the promo and the reason is
This white guy want chicken for beef but can’t season it
Your style’s so fucked your instrumental’s a porno
God did not deliver you Ward, you’re Digiorno
It’s Double Bar Bill, double tier, not none of that
It’s Filler Bar God, muhfuckas gon’ remember that
Filler Bar God, punchlines doin’ circles
Planet bars cause each round is universal

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