[Round 1: Illmaculate]
This will be a total slaughter… speaking of that whole mess
You know, Em's reality show, a handful of known vets
Round 1: him and Big T on a closed set
No crowd, no boo's, no bias, no sweat
Spoiler alert: did he choke? …YES
Shit, they had to pick a winner based off of who choked... LESS
You do all this extra shit to make lines crazy when they're not
You're an actor and that extra shit is basically your prop
See, you choked on the show, in front of Shady, on the spot
And couldn't come off the head…
Hmpf, ironic I'm the one that's wavy off the top!
Dawg, my style is ungodly
It's Satan's judgement crossed with the savior's coming
I go hard in the paint
Even the shots that you make are nothin'
LeBron when he's playing Dunkin
I'll put a part in the waves you brushin'
I'll have the motherfucking guardian angels duckin'
I'll rip him apart from the ankles, crush him
Roll him up in a paper and have you puff on how you trippin', like Smokey in front of the car when he's naked, runnin'
"Take it easy, holmes…" or get your guardian angels dusted!
Talk trash, ask him when he blogged last; bet it's recent
Your fraud ass should get together with Jesse Rican
And make a podcast, every weekend
Go ahead, find a better scapegoat, I'ma educate folks
For that paper I'll smash 'til your flesh is made pulp
He keep acting hard-boiled, he can get his egg yoked
We'll either see him calm it…
Or die from a punch; this the Heaven's Gate cult
This is hard verse' ignorant pride
Smart intelligent lines verse' garbage filler that rhymes
Verb, if you not as willing to die, it's harder feeling alive
This Pac's ambition to ride verse' lost ambition to try
This is why URL don't respect you, you're too worn out
You used to spit fire… lukewarm now
I brainstorm and huge storm clouds
Above your roof pour down
And drown everybody in that two horse town
You ain't won outside the Lou for a while
Good luck tryin' to do more now
For two more rounds I'm Diddy's ten stacks
Goodz' cup and the New York crowd
And off top, you know how I know this guy's eager
And I'm in his head like a fucking mind reader?
‘Cause now he's bitching out over here
Talking to Malathion, tryin' to play timekeeper
I'll put blood all over that nice t-shirt, turn around
And use your fucking wife beater as my knife cleaner
This will be a total slaughter… speaking of that whole mess
You know, Em's reality show, a handful of known vets
Round 1: him and Big T on a closed set
No crowd, no boo's, no bias, no sweat
Spoiler alert: did he choke? …YES
Shit, they had to pick a winner based off of who choked... LESS
You do all this extra shit to make lines crazy when they're not
You're an actor and that extra shit is basically your prop
See, you choked on the show, in front of Shady, on the spot
And couldn't come off the head…
Hmpf, ironic I'm the one that's wavy off the top!
Dawg, my style is ungodly
It's Satan's judgement crossed with the savior's coming
I go hard in the paint
Even the shots that you make are nothin'
LeBron when he's playing Dunkin
I'll put a part in the waves you brushin'
I'll have the motherfucking guardian angels duckin'
I'll rip him apart from the ankles, crush him
Roll him up in a paper and have you puff on how you trippin', like Smokey in front of the car when he's naked, runnin'
"Take it easy, holmes…" or get your guardian angels dusted!
Talk trash, ask him when he blogged last; bet it's recent
Your fraud ass should get together with Jesse Rican
And make a podcast, every weekend
Go ahead, find a better scapegoat, I'ma educate folks
For that paper I'll smash 'til your flesh is made pulp
He keep acting hard-boiled, he can get his egg yoked
We'll either see him calm it…
Or die from a punch; this the Heaven's Gate cult
This is hard verse' ignorant pride
Smart intelligent lines verse' garbage filler that rhymes
Verb, if you not as willing to die, it's harder feeling alive
This Pac's ambition to ride verse' lost ambition to try
This is why URL don't respect you, you're too worn out
You used to spit fire… lukewarm now
I brainstorm and huge storm clouds
Above your roof pour down
And drown everybody in that two horse town
You ain't won outside the Lou for a while
Good luck tryin' to do more now
For two more rounds I'm Diddy's ten stacks
Goodz' cup and the New York crowd
And off top, you know how I know this guy's eager
And I'm in his head like a fucking mind reader?
‘Cause now he's bitching out over here
Talking to Malathion, tryin' to play timekeeper
I'll put blood all over that nice t-shirt, turn around
And use your fucking wife beater as my knife cleaner
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