Illmaculate vs. Real Deal lyrics

[Round 1: Real Deal]
Yo!
Aight, what's up!?
Y'all rock with me, Cali, or what?
This battle should've happened years ago!
Fans said, "Real Deal and Illmac? Let's go classic!"
But every time they tried to pitch it to him, Greg won't have it
He acted like he's working on a real deal, putting together a demo package
Tell the people the real deal: Real Deal never fit your demographic!
Now, five years later, how'd I get so blackish?
Payback's a motherf*cker! Yours is retroactive!
For years of trying to change your tune, so you ain't catch no static
I'ma pour it on 'til Forest Lawn'll need another headstone added!
I said, all them years I tried to battle him, he acted important as f*ck
I figured I gave it the college try
Maybe kids in Oregon duck!
Or maybe he wants that URL fan base
So Lush booked him Hollow, Con', and Ars', like that's the way he'll get linked
But every time, he either got trashed, or got trashed and blamed the mixed drinks
No matter how big the stage was, Greg would just shrink!
When he crossed over, we saw the pus*y, like Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct!
Now, the fans start to wonder, "What's wrong with Mac? When is he not prepared?
I mean, these are huge opportunities, right!? He's gotta care!"
Then, people put 2 and 2 together
"Well, I guess, against black people, he’s probably scared”
Google “Portland, Oregon”
It’s the whitest city in America!
I know, shocker there!
sh*t is so white, their number-one hip-hop-selling artist is Phil Collins!
Maybe I made that up, but the face of basketball in Portland is Bill Walton
I heard when that Mike Brown sh*t went down, and they was aware they killed him
There was WEEKS of protesting in your streets…in support of Officer Darren Wilson!
Now, these URL rappers only book 'Mac for the paper
Your last battle with Clips looked like Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out’s Mac having a match with his trainer!
We both expect opponents to perform at a level
Our last battle, they both took a sh*t on stage; yours was more disrespectful!
Why do these SMACK rappers treat you like some kind of herb?
You be up there PASSIONATELY RAPPING…and they be trying to type they third!
It’s cringe-worthy to go back and see how hard you tried with Verb
You even brought props like, “Look at me! I’m a nerd!”
And all I thought was, “Simon Birch!”
Y’all ‘member his Arsonal battle? Y’all ‘member his Arsonal sh*t?
He said, “I’ma have a drink while they pay for dude.”
Then, he started rapping
Fans was like, “What just happened with the pay-per-view? Is Illmaculate drunk!?”
He was like, “I only had one beer all day, then BOOM!”
News flash! Effects of alcohol are based off body size!
You’d get hammered off a tablespoon!
sh*t was like the Louganis story: we saw Greg take a dive…plus he has the HIV and he’s queer!
Man, little people everywhere would’ve rejoiced! It could’ve been your biggest win of the year!
It would’ve been like when that house fell on the Wicked Witch, all the midgets would cheer!
Instead, he’s gotta go back to being the little man from drinking games that sits on the rim of your beer!
That’s funny, right!?
Like when he battled Tony D overseas, and completely slept on him
He said, “You’re just a tour spot!”, a hotel for him and his friends and them
Fast forward: Clips showed no respect for him
Verb didn’t even prep for him!
Isn’t it ironic when you see someone named Ill' get a taste of his own medicine!?
I said, I respect the stuff that he does lyrically
But this motherf*cker is weird to me!
With him, everything's a inside job, cover-up, or government conspiracy
Well, let's end this now!
No one gives a f*ck about aliens in Roswell, New Mexico!
Lee Harvey Oswald shot Kennedy! If not, well, just let it go!
He's like, "Did you know the wars for oil on foreign soil, they send the profits to Texaco?"
"Did you know Sandy Hook wasn't real? It was for guns-"
Awesome! We get it, bro!
Please, people, hold your money!
Say "No!" if he asks you to hold a twenty
'Cause it'll feel like hours passing
Then he'll show you the towers crashing after he folds it funny
I mean- holdonholdonholdon!
They said three to five! Hold on!
Damn!
I mean, studying sh*t like that makes you look extra lonely
Why are you mad our government conspires? He conspires against his homies!
He battled Ness Lee, Saurus, and 9D, like it's just for the sake of pen game
You know, a sparring bout
We barring out, an easy way to get paid
To be curt, I think you're a snake!
You aired their personal sh*t to gain some headway
I just gave y'all the tip!
Now, let's see if his tiny ass can escape from L.A.!
Let's go!
[Round 1: Illmaculate]
Yo, you're the reason this won't be a Fresh Coast classic!
You said this was payback?
Motherf*cker, this is only retroactive ‘cause your style takes us WAY BACK!
You ain’t a fire lyricist!
Even Malathion was yelling, “TIME!”
They ain’t sleeping on you! We just tired of hearing it!
When you get open-palm-snuffed, don’t look awestruck
When Solomon lost to Mook, he was hard up
And had to pick the pieces of his broken heart up
'Cause he calls himself “White Rapper” and owns the part, but
This the road of hard luck ‘cause I’m a real MC
I should’ve overcharged Lush for what you stole from our cut!
Just be a “rapper”, Real!
Step your flow and bars up
Instead of always sitting "white" in the front of it like Rosa Parks’ bus!
DAAAAAAAMN, Trevor!
In high school, you was a KLAAAAAAAN member!
f*ck happened to you!?
Now, you behind the cage door fighting Fedor
You aspire to incite a race war
And would probably trade your blackboard for a white dry-erase board!
You ain’t a big threat
You’re a quick check!
I wrote this blowing sticky bomb like a Semtex
You got a complex ‘cause you simplex
You ain’t completely wack, but you borderline, like vignettes
Every scheme in battle rap, how you get stretched, get chin-checked
I play the cards I was dealt, but you ain’t a real deal! You a trick deck!
Get this trick decked
You’ll get slept ‘til you see stars, like fish nets or shipwrecks
Hold on, only time he in-depth when I lay him in the ground
Only thing I’m sure of is your aura’s faker than you sound
Changing up your style based on an angle that you found
That’s why you call yourself “The Chef”: you always cater to the crowd!
Like how, against Daylyt, he was in the ring, snappin’
Sounding like Dot Mobb’s team captain
Things clappin’, gun bars for reaction
Then he asked them, “It’s cool if I do this whole bar thing, right?”
MOTHERf*ckER, YOU MEAN RAPPIN’!?
His every angle is played
What you’re getting is just an illusion
His image, tailor-made, just trying to fit in to something that suits him
That’s the difference: I’m at home in the ring, you just coming through to chill
Children of the Corn: you been warned how I’m running through the field!
You are so unnatural
Bars canceled out by how uncomfortable you feel
You should’ve never left the classroom, 'cause ain’t no substitute for Real!
For real, I spin a, light two bars
Trying to figure the type of guy you are
How I go from two opponents that ain’t try, to one opponent that tries too hard!?
Rhetorical with the statement
Your formula is basic
You play the white card, it’s unfortunately racist
Then do the bar thing, horrible in the same sense
Fake sh*t, having your own style ain’t affordable, so you take it
Shape-shift, forcing it when you say sh*t
You a different person every time we see you, like the Oracle in The Matrix!
f*ck THE BULLsh*t!
I’m acting ignorant every verse
My sh*t piff, ‘cause I trim it and sell it like herb
Spitting and selling this merch
f*ck a gimmick, sh*t…fans made that sh*t acceptable first
An image it never occurs
‘Cause real fans respect real sh*t and listen to every word
Get it straight! f*ck an angle! I been ahead of the curve
So, whose di*k I gotta have Daylyt suck to finally get the respect I deserve!?
[Round 2: Real Deal]
Good sh*t!
Okay, f*ck it! Let’s f*cking talk race, then…
So, y’all know Mac as being a lyricist? Cool!
I know this kid is being a sucker!
Shady, back-stabbing, arrogant, ignorant little f*cker!
Like, for years, he been trying to have people guess what race he is
Is he Mexcan? Cubican? Dominican? What is it, Other?
Whole time he was trying to hide the fact he’s got a little Indian in the cupboard!
But hey, it’s all good! I mean, your name is Gregory Poe, and you’re Indian!
They’d have been a fan of your battles!
Gregory Poe? What’s that mean in your native tongue? “Man of Short Stature”
Listen, Sitting Bull!
You showed up to a gun fight with a satchel full of arrows
Your canoe’s in sh*t’s creek THIS DEEP without a paddle you can spare, though!
f*ck YOUR WHISKEY, Chief! Catch me off that Vladimir and Cuervo
Bear arms, but down to swing at anything like Vladimir Guerrero!
He gon’ see some angels, but he gon’ meet Diablo first
California: keep off the grass or get your little lawn gnome murked!
Listen, Tonto! You better hope your Hattori Hanzo works
Or I’mma helicopter your little ass like one of Petey Pablo’s shirts!
Aye, “Damn, Trevor! I’m a Klan member!”
b*tch, my whole life I lived in the hood!
And my favorite book growing up was The Little Injun that Could!
I said, you need to take it easy
Your whole sh*t’s already an endangered species
I do the Natives greasy
Smallpox laced in your baby’s beanies
Me and my child? sh*t!
We on some child sh*t!
We’ll TP you and your neighbor’s teepee!
I will break your jaw quick as Europeans can break a treaty!
And judging by your f*cked-up grill, you can already use some fake veneers
You look like the guy in your tribe they took a wooden log to to make a spear
I will show up in Portland, dressed in nothing but Blazers gear
And turn the Oregon Trail into the f*cking Trail of Tears!
Y’ALL FEEL THAT!?
WHEN REAL RAPS, it’s like the deal’s back
The floor shakes: this where your hero dies
I’ll give your spirit guide a sprit guide
Your next tour date’s the Lord’s Gates
That steel clap at your steel trap
Real rap, that floor bangs
I’ll put your headdress on your headrest, and peel back your war paint!
So, tell your medicine man he gon’ need fruit flies, a newt’s eye, and the skin of a live rattler
f*ck Hattori Hanzo! My sh*t is from Highlander!
It’ll cut through you and an innocent bystander!
I pull that motherf*cker out, show him how sharp the blade is, then
Turn his f*cking head to a South Park Canadian’s!
I said, let me catch this pus*y hanging out the whip like that one pic of Britney
When I give Mac the knife, it ain’t some hit from the ‘50s
You dig me?
I beat the dog sh*t out you without weapons, but if I do, I know I’m wrong
‘Cause you little, homie
You one of them little homies that…you put one of your little homies on!
Like, y’all remember I told Cortez my son would whoop his son’s ass?
Well, you about the size of somebody in my son’s class!
He knows who you are, Mac! And he’s no fan, though!
He said, far as battle rap, you full of sh*t like that article that Nocan' wrote
He said, “Dad, if he get nuts, he get kicked like roshambo!”
I put junior on him in the ring like Dos Santos!
‘Cause you soft as Bounty
Your crew sweet as a chocolate brownie
Heard he was on suicide watch the one night he was locked in county
My whole team down to throw them arms: check the squad around me
b*tch, even my broad get rowdy like Ronda Rousey!
You see, buddy’s an elf, so y’all made me son him like James Caan
I was raised in the pit: yeah, the same sh*t that Bangz on
I will pull back, gorilla-pimp, Shaq-sized facepalm
I’ll show up in St. Johns, and put blood in your mouth like a Game song!
[Round 2: Illmaculate]
Yeah, I’m Native, and this is a sacred burial site for you
You were frustrated you didn’t know my race, ‘cause you couldn’t figure out which ignorant stereotype to use!
So he’s like, “What’s your tribal name?”
But that scheme’s f*cking lame
Don’t worry about it
As far as your b*tch is concerned, it’s “Chief Running Game!”
I spit raw white: you’re on the wrong side of these bars
Right cross, ‘cause you don’t come across right, like your song right in the R’s
Pomeranian to a Rottweiler: a dog fight in the yard
Get your jaw wired on sight, then get hog-tied in the car
Your whole look says you lived a calm life on the farm
Which is perfect, ‘cause you’re an easy target like the broad side of a barn!
I’m a dirty fighter, Kurdish striker
Tell this cat if he swing, you’ll get taxed in the ring: Irwin Schyster!
If you’re a hit, man, I’m the first survivor
Returning fire quicker than a Secret Service sniper
Rifle recoil like a nervous viper
Brain splatter, grey matter hurling skyward, burst in geysers
And leave nothing in your head like you weren’t inspired!
You wouldn’t know bars, if you served with lifers, a term at Riker’s
Any guy that gives Real Deal a real deal putting on scrubs, like nurse attire!
Even your boys think you’re wack! Keep your circle tighter!
In fact, we all do...just don’t know how to say it like “Worcestershire”
You wouldn’t blow with a factory of fertilizer
But what’s a bomb vers’ MacGyver?
I’ll purge his wires and reverse the timer
You wouldn’t hurt a fly, or murk a spider
If you’re a star, I’m Ursa Minor
You earn his stripes, but I’m the circus tiger biting through the burning tire!
Working man’s MC!? Who’d give him work for hire?
I Solomon-ly swear you’re a biter!
All this Pittsburgh stealer does is repackage works of Iron!
Shut up!
I bet this lame tricks his Grade 6 students to ghostwrite
Like, “Pop quiz! Today, kids: Name flips!”
I bet he gives gold stars for dope bars
He grades papers on haymakers
He gives F’s for copying answers
But he gives A’s for polysyllabics
Just imagine this faggot sparring class clowns as a tactic to practice
I bet none of his students are passing his classes unless this battle’s a classic!
Right?
You are not a teacher: you glorify
You babysit and try to make ‘em fit
Most your students think they’re going nowhere, like a dying atheist
A fighter’s nature: realize who you’re inside the cage against
I’m Tyson’s trainer, Ryan Bader, and Urijah Faber mixed
I’m the giant slayer
Looks like Goliath came to get his ass whipped by Cassius with iron-plated fists!
I know, you’re hoping your tightest angle sticks
But it’s like my prey is fixed on dying, heading towards the light like an anglerfish!
Your survival rate’s in dire straits
This pirate ain’t equipped
If it’s your drive that makes you sick, you just hydroplane the whip
My mind’s a great abyss where no time and space exists like a Matrix glitch
I brainstorm, fill the sky with flames, and scorch dry terrain when fire rains from it!
Yo- f*ck it!
I scorch dry terrain when fire rains from it
Sniper’s aim, I’m on your heels: diving ankle pick
Primal rage, the lion tamer, so your pride’s endangered, b*tch!
I’ll light you up…like the Vegas strip!
It’ll feel like a tidal wave had hit
Turn this huge arena to Fukushima, like “WHAT DISASTER!? I’M THE MAIN EVENT!”
TIME!

[Round 3: Real Deal]
I heard they was gonna give him life up state, in Portland, OR
But somehow, some way, you beat that weed charge and got released on O.R.!
f*cking cornball!
You turn a magistration visit to a murder charge
You wear it proud, like a Purple Heart or a Service Star
You’re not tough, Gregory, just ‘cause some people in your circle are
I will punch your f*cking face ‘til it looks like a modern work of art!
I said, I’m computer illiterate: I’m not savvy with the Mac
Here’s the way I troll:
I’ll break the f*cking bridge of your nose if you ain’t pay that toll
The day you get regarded as a threat, Big T’ll be eight-pack swole
You, a tough guy!? sh*t, a Lifetime movie wouldn’t let you play that role!
As far as biggest beavers in the Beaver State, the title is yours
But battle rap allows the little-man-complex side to emerge
I’ll give it to him: little man’s complex with the threats he puts inside of a verse
But you pus*y! You wouldn’t rip the tag off a mattress on the night of the Purge!
Now, THAT’S MY WORD!
Yeah! f*ck that!
Yeah, that’s my word, that’s my word!
We could take it back, like an Indian giver
Toronto, Dirtbag, when you was hit off the liquor, you tried to fight dude!
It was like you was Ice Cube, and he was Deebo
That’s because he put you in a Million-Dollar Dream hold!
Hands around the neck like a Capo
We saw his eyes glaze slow, and watched his knee go
It’s funny: he was the one pushing buttons, but we still saw a Mac go into Sleep Mode!
I said, you let another man put you to bed: you was out!
So, don’t let me hear another tough line come out of Gregory’s mouth!
Big Man in Portland: oh, then we know what Greg is about!
If he wants drama, he’ll be walking with a cane once I leave Gregory house!
I said, I’ll put the boots to you, little dude, like a fire when you can’t put it out
You gon’ think he’s really ill once he gets that case of hand-foot-in-mouth
I said, what you get paid for this? 4K?
Hightail out of here, little buddy! Go and jump on your runabout!
Stick to doing low-budget Portland tours, and sleeping on a buddy’s couch!
You can INTERNALLY OUT-RHYME ME for the next hundred rounds
But hey, we know even if he beats me today…it wasn’t on URL, so it doesn’t count!

[Round 3: Illmaculate + Lush One]
That was trash!
That whole weed sh*t and the charges you talked about, that scheme was better
‘Cause I caught a F for felony, and with that scheme, you got a E for effort
I ain’t even chose to battle you
Fans act like we was most compatible
Bro, they gassin’ you
You are only flammable next to a sun flare you trying to hold a candle to!
It’s unfair! They put me in the same boat as half of you
So I give him God’s word since y’all compared (come paired) like Noah’s animals!
I know
You wanna go to war, but feel my reign coming like approaching storms
Rone and Saur’ll penetrate your defenses like a Trojan horse
If you compare my flow to yours, you’ll be floating towards the ocean floor
What I mean is: you put us in the same boat, you going overboard!
Dawg, we could go back and forth, but ain’t no argument
Bars or flips
He can’t beat me freestyling: ask Charlie Clips! sh*t!
I mean, what’ll they charge me with when I part your wig using the same sharpened edge you used to carve your niche!?
You ain’t even close to a animal: this ain’t a safari trip
You Steve Hawking when beef popping, and couldn’t get an arm to lift
It would get ugly if a strap on me, like Barkley kicks
But I’d rather take his top off and leave something missing like Barbie’s tits!
The black sheep: Farley flick
Spit lines: Farley sniff
Get rolled up: Marley spliff
Body stiff
That’s not negotiable, Deal: I’m not to be bargained with
So, if you late on that paper like a tardy slip
This clown b*tch get his face split: that’s Harley Quinn and Harvey Dent!
Let’s go! Kill mode
Steel toe to your jaw piece
You still overly c*cky
You’ll feel closer to God while I feel closer to godly
I’ll kill him and every rapper Real’s chosen to copy
Want a deal? Go to a swap meet
It’s Operation when you dissect him, ‘cause ain’t a real bone in his body!
You can’t put him next to me! That’s how people have died!
They send top-tiers over to me, and I eat ‘em alive!
They make excuses for him, like, “He didn’t try.”
And what’s my response to that?
sh*t, NEITHER DID I! f*ck IT!
sh*t’s crazy!
The di*k riding’s out of control
I don’t give a f*ck, though
Concoct a scheme, I bob and weave every punch thrown
I’m like a tugboat billowing blunt smoke
I puff 'dro from Humboldt
My lungs blow a Dust Bowl
First round: 1-0!
Second round: done fo’!
This is gung-ho, to composed
Charron, to a Lux flow
A dunk thrown at Mutombo
Uncut coke, to a blunt roach
A snub-nose, to a GUN SHOW!!
IT’S OVER!
It’s over already!
Yo, Lush, bro, you struck gold!
He pulls out heavy metal, it gets ugly as a punk show
Cut-throat, blood soak everybody in the front row
You wouldn’t swing a jump rope!
You won’t bust nothin’
I feel bad for that b*tch that you bust nuttin’, that sl*t ho!
You done duckin’? Get confronted and unfold
His gums bumpin’, I’ll stomp him ‘til I’m done scuffin’ the gumsoles!
‘Til he’s nothing but a mudhole!
This ass-whipping, you can’t get enough of it
It’s like money when it come slow!
Dawg, you asked for this massacre
So, casket, or ash and urn?
You was telling me to do it: Math and Dizaster’s third!
What, you gonna outrap me!?
It’s over!
WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO, TREVOR? OUTRAP ME!?
I’m laughing: that sh*t’s absurd!
You act like I’m actually that concerned, with that swag that you had to learn!
I mean-
No! That’s sh*t’s bogus!
If you haven’t noticed, he sells it like a bad promoter
And I ain’t buying your rap persona!
I’ll sh*t on your magnum opus
This is target practice with the apple on ya
I’ll have ‘em looking for prints (Prince)
CATCH IT? THAT’S APOLLONIA!
I’ll put you in a bag, then close it
Vac-seal holding back the odor when we pass the rollers
We had unfinished business, now that sh*t’s over
‘Cause this battle’s giving your casket closure!
TIME!