Bonnie Godiva vs MyVerse lyrics

[Round 1: Bonnie Godiva]
You see all this sh*t right here? You’re welcome
Consider this a early Christmas present
Cause it’s a gift you even (w)rapping in my presence (presents)
You been caption every second, you got to @ me every mention, just been asking for attention
You worried if I’ma bail, B? Well this a jail fee, I’m ‘bout to tax you every sentence
Now that I’m getting paid here (hair), b*tch, I weaved that battle
And I don’t need this battle to get you Smacked with an extension
I should’ve docked her pay, but they told me be patient with MyVerse
Well I don’t got a ghostwriter, the f*ck I look like waiting on my verse?
They say you diverse, well that’s no Biggie, You Ready to Die, Verse?
Cause my verse, even Eminem couldn’t Stan(d), that’s suicide, Verse
How my verse’ll leave you exposed after it Boom
You would think I gave Tsu a side verse
Your sh*t is filler
What’s in my hand Quentin Miller; don’t make me write, Verse
Wait, out of all the rappers you know, though, top five dead or alive
You picked J to kiss (Jadakiss)? Well that’s a Why, Verse
But thinking you out of this world?
Mama stop it, after I give Jo(h)nny Rockets, it’s you and I, Verse (universe)
Slip up, cause when I put a thot in a box, it ain’t a suggestion
Where does this forty go? Rhetorical, the answer request chins
I let a couple get at ‘em then even they rib buckle
One word and the pop gon ground you; this kid trouble
But if the money official, my ratchet wig on stage: Ms. Hustle
Six ring back to back for the green; I’m Bill Russell
I know y’all like, “Leave homes alone.” Like I encountered Fit
To encounter a counterfeit, man, you n*ggas got me furious
You could bet the bank on it that every stock’s in Bon(d)
So why would I take a D verse if I took the money serious?
Y’all know I only Kill for the Bills
So if you be a trick’s kid, oh, I steal daughters
You wouldn’t have to punch your way out this box I kill smarter
A pie may show you I’m nothing but a snake; come dance with a real mamba
My pimp hand’s sharp; I will scar her
I cut b*tches for talking out the side of their face: Bill’s father
I ain’t gotta imagine this sh*t, b*tch, you got to imagine a line
I be rushing to get out of bars
You be rushing to get your bars out
Y’all see how different we be battling time?
Your man’s cap could fly in the crowd over half of a line
Don’t get your own (Charron) slapped
That won’t have your character Shine
Just be the hippie Orlando b*tch that you are
Don’t rap about sh*t that you not ‘bout
Cause if you don’t think I’ma bully you
I’m too big for a mid to school, play tough and get knocked out
When the nine approaching, it’s get ate up or clocked out
Cause the tool spray like it’s school grades or her boobs may:
A cup ‘ll (couple) drop out
I already told you I’m on some other sh*t
I could’ve raised you, b*tch
Groundbreaker to housekeeper the way I made you, b*tch
If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be battling free, so thank me, b*tch
Nah, don’t even thank me, f*ck you, pay me, b*tch
[Round 1: Myverse]
What up b*tch? You trash, but I’m glad to see you made it
Even though you almost a year late
I told Mister Wansel this battle won’t Pop unless the deal straight
She rob and leech , trying to get her bills paid
So since you dine and dash, let your head get the steel plate
You ain’t a shark in this; I’m trying to kill greats
And I’d rather drop science instead of Math in this chapter
But the mass have a factor, in this fact of matter
You’re more known for giving that face than Jaz the Rapper
I’m Queen of the Ring: Holly or Ali
Someone tell Bonnie I’m brawly
Catch her all happy and jolly, blasted on mollies
Sneak her (sneaker) then check her like a pair of Huaraches
She rides shotty with her mommy beside her
I’ll c*ck, squeeze, make her knock knees and body the driver
Leave Bonnie Godiva’s body to divers
Your situation looking Rocky through the Eye of the Tiger
I’m a big dog, rottweiler with a collie beside her
She a average joe: sloppy, slide her
Ask snobby, I’ll smack the saliva
Weave bobby pins out your tracks just to show how I style her
This battle was only a solid, cause this what the fans favor
It may be on your agenda, but you can’t date her
Cause if the wood fill her
You saw dust (sawdust), those walls crushed like sandpaper
You tatted a slanted di*k between your banana tits, that’s just tacky, B
She steady juggling sacks with seeds and I ain’t talking bags of weed
When she walks, y’all don’t hear galloping?
Kentucky Derby running laps, looping?
Just cause you wear horse hair won’t make you a Black Beauty
Those synthetics have overran their courses
She yelled to Math, “I’m ‘bout to pull my hair out.”
He said, “Hold your horses.”
But even without a guy’s help
With all that weave, you’ll still always be Bonnie and Clydesdale
Won’t let her roots grow
But in Bon’s eye (bonzi) that treatment is the norm
I could strand my killings on your hair, but that’s beating a dead horse
Cause if it wasn’t for me, b*tch
You’d still be battling for free on Smack
You have a stage today cause I let you speak when I asked
You thought your stomp would leave me starving?
I’m still eating, in fact
You keep giving us leftover bars, well that’s gon lead me to scrap
No poetry for a reason to snap
This work from my hand ‘ll give you a permanent band since you want to twerk for the cam
My bloodline bred martyrs
Taught ownership, not to work for the man
So I became Panama’s legendary puncher: Roberto Duran
Your family’s Jamaican, right?
So that immigration line for Ms. Fit was a mis-fit
Check your angle then
Cause if we roger that, her American Dad left no name for him
Plus your tranny uncle is the gender-confused alien
Back in Jamaica, they call a fag “anti man”
So that batty boy became your auntie, man
In this game, if it’s any console, we’ll just name it “Aunt-le”
Cause we know that’s a chick with a di*k
Even if you “Look at the Flick of the Wrist.”
But I got this new dance, it’s called hitting this b*tch
This is the stage that only matters, why face?
Titles, I snatch, fast as Pai Mei
You couldn’t try Florida if you had the Tri-State
I’m putting Godiva in a box; that’s Valentine’s Day
[Round 2: Bonnie Godiva]
You said you could freestyle better than me, well guess what I got tonight
Cause you just said a Pai Mei bar; this is bad business
Cause all y’all do is trade marks that copy write
Back to freestyling, I see you brought a legend, he making crazy waves
Well if I aim the lead, both of y’all be dancing with Crazy Legs
I can’t help I’m sick though, my whole life I never had aides (AIDS) rapping
I don’t do sh*t the Eazy way
I’m from a state where you can die when you land
Get D.O.A.’ed at your E.T.A
You ever see my n*ggas court side on the bench? That’s courtside at the NBA
But see your n*ggas courtside on the bench they court siding with the D.E.A
So why should I believe the bullpen of verse or remember Verse
When she said she tried to bail me out
But didn’t mail me out a phone call, letter, or even a pen from Verse?
b*tch, I felt like Fifty in that cell all alone, like why raise her (razor)?
If when I was in the pen’, a verse brought me sane
So now you getting chalked the same
Cause the walls where I’ma pen a verse
Lord forgive me; I’m ‘bout to re-pen (repent) a verse, let’s go to church
It’s a holy ghost, cause I’ll be clapping and stomping soon as they quote a verse
My method is (Methodist) to get your fellow shipped and open, Verse
Let me work, cause by the third round, Clips vers’ Lux:
First the preaching, then you’ll be piecing together a broken verse
I don’t rehearse, and yet I’m still acquiring half of they bank
Cause the first one’s to fall into sin be the first ones to judge
Like soon as they see a ladder they (Latter-day) saints
So let’s get to confession, cause you be acting like Jo(h)nny Cash could get you Grammy songs
Or cause you in the Tribe Called Quest, you Queen Latifah when the cameras on
Well, men lie and women lie, but the truth is in the camera phone
Four years ago, you was f*cking another battle rapper
In his t-shirt with no panties on?
You talking all this battle rap sh*t, but you was f*cking Madd Illz?
b*tch, Madd Illz? I’m mad. Ew
But you remember them Grind Times. You must’ve had a ill disease, cause you gave Ill the V to battle Ill V
But no matter which ill you be, you ain’t ill as me
You nothing but a Grind Time groupie that’s limelight choosie;
But why pick a old biter over a big dog? b*tch, this ain’t the Twilight movie
She like, “So? At least he took me on a tour of the South.”
b*tch, please. You couldn’t even get a tour of his house
He room and board her, Total Slaughter;
I wonder if he touched her core (Cor’) on that couch
But I figured you’d let my trey pound now
Since you used to n*ggas dogging you out
It that why she don’t want to profess her (Professor) X?
She was just on his team, b*tch why your Jeans gone?
I guess that make him Cyclops:
He seeing fire in a bird, but put another Mystique on
Cause the way she blew skin off n*ggas
She don’t even feel comfortable in complete form
That’s why she had to switch up characters to see Storm
You got the whorest of ways, Rihanna falling on stage: this ho tripping
It seems you weren’t cut from my cloth; we so (sew) different
I got drive, Progressive, commercial;
You just ride for insurance, our flow’s different
Talking about sheet rock, right?
You nothing but dry walls for fun, guys, the mold different
I mean, how the f*ck did you even get here?
Norbes, you took her to the roof?
You ain’t hesitate to jump off, did you?
Another rookie mistake
Thinking you gon hit main stage just cause he let one off in you
But since you do get around, it’s only right I let one off in you
I told you, I could’ve raised you, b*tch
Housebreaker to groundkeeper how I made you, b*tch
If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be battling free, so thank me, b*tch
Nah, don’t thank me, f*ck you, pay me, b*tch
[Round 2: Myverse]
First off, I’m here today cause of blood, sweat, and tiers; I earned it
But I know about three rappers that f*cked you and can confirm it
So your little premeditated bars, that sh*t’s not working
How the f*ck you freestyling so good
But in Milwaukee you kept pausing? You should’ve been saying Jersey
But wait, ladies and gentleman
Sexual Chocolate. Sexual Chocolate
We need a axe now, really, to start chopping this fable
You said your last match on URL was on the spot
Freestyle, what you brought to the table, right?
You ain’t atomic off the top. That’s a diss missile (dismissal)
I seen the signal when you picked the b*tch that looked just like O’fficial
And your pre-style against QP was ass; you mooned everyone that caught view
No shade, but it must’ve burned the way that Son blocked you
As a true emcee, that’s a low blow
sh*t was a knockoff. Say it ain’t so, hoe (SoHo)
Y’all just getting those “ether bars” from that other card she no-showed
You couldn’t even sway Sway
You cut off 40 like you was gon spit that flame
But was so out the pocket, they gave her change
Sway had to explain, “it’s okay.”
They stopped the track
“She battle raps, this wasn’t your lane.”
Babs got you on Shade 45 to spit it live, probably her biggest regret of all
Bonnie bombed that cypher so bad, y’all would’ve thought Flex was on
Lying (lion), trying to run, but you gon live with this Scar
DJs wouldn’t slip your disc if you got hit with their car
Plus, you say you draw, but that’s all sketchy
Your definition of sexy is sl*tty, flat-out, it’s not edgy
You may live in a stable, but your spot’s shaky;
You not ready, offer me a stage, I’m making sure to Rocksteady
I’ll admit, you were on a come-up
At one point, you thought people were ducking you
It’s not cause you were good, b*tch, just sounds like there’s a duck in you
Can’t even think for herself, just a thot trying to claim
It’s like, no skills, all facade for the fame
Yeah, it was Gladiator School, but we were not entertained
You a weakling in this region; I seen it from the bleachers
So I got in the game to teach ‘em how to beast it
You lack leadership and genius
You’re the Cyborg of battle rap: a cheater with a p*nis
Remember when QP wrote for you? I know it’s hard to say
But everything in the dark comes to light, ask Charlemagne
QP used to haggle her for that wholesale, cause when that hoe sale didn’t charge the same
She got the Math and had to bargain for bars to gain, what a shame
I mean, holy ghostwriters, but hey, there’s always Born again
Let me take you to church. Born getting washed for his sins
It was what the four told (foretold) to smite the gins
Cause I'm here speaking my verse but your lips reciting him (hymn)
Have you looking at her shake, like your last gimmick
I’m catching this body tight, but she need her ass lifted
Especially when them butt pads missing
I bet 40 ain’t seen you write one rap lyric, bold face
You wear sh*t with no circulation, thinking it’s gravy with all that flabby meat
Y’all bugging if you think Bon that petite (bon appetit)
I’m here for the scolding
You trying to rap about doing a rap, cause you got your tat in holding but got out real quick
What’s the reason?
Felt lonely behind bars, I guess it was cuffing season
I’m saying a game of spades is the only time you ever had a bid
It’s like a jail riot they way they gas your pen
You gon say I’m Latina, need a Visa, but you’re the one scamming them
Oh yeah, and your wig f*cked up
Thought I’d leave that hair relaxing? Ew
I bet the back of your neck is scabbing
b*tch need to switch your perm
She went from Math to multiple partners;
The prime number of STD sums, one thing’s for sure:
Say goodbye to your di*k
Buy that sh*t a urn, ccause Bon? Bon (bong) go smoke your bud’s pipe, watch her switch a (swisher) burn
My presence (presents) has them playing swear to god:
Guess that’s a gift and a curse
You trying to sell them on fake dirt like that’s a pitch that’ll work
But you couldn’t finish a sixteen, so how the f*ck you gon finish a Verse?

[Round 3: Bonnie Godiva]
You keep talking about that sh*t in Milwaukee
But it was ten people in that room
So in other words, they all vic
Far as bars, check my rap sheet
Crime pays, and you know it’s easy to con vics
So what, you want to talk about Born?
I told you, this battle I’m having a open verse
But keep talking about Born and my last battle
I might have flashbacks and start choking Verse
I ain’t even want this to be you, though
Since I found out you like battle rappers, I was kinda hoping you’d like me
And whoever told you white men can’t jump never met Mike P
I mean, I know you like to spit
I could give you the Mike (mic) free
But wait, maybe I should Do the Right Thing
So let me finish icing this Spanish b*tch on cam like Spike Lee
She really think she the most def poet,cause she be taking Q tips
And spitting knowledge for the crowd reaction
Well say one thing to me about The Roots
And you won’t even be conscious rapping
I get the melanin to push her melon in
When I black, history. You don’t got the memories
You just salty you ain’t hot this season
Well call cajun (caucasian) if you ain’t got the recipe
Cause your Net flicks (x) shows you need to stay in class
All that Breaking Bad, you just ain’t got the chemistry
f*ck a knife or a weapon; my mind is inception
I break towers mentally
So while you new-slaving, I’m deuce-deuce waving
And I don’t want to hear sh*t about the Zulu Nation
Or b*tch, see, Toots, see, you could be the next one who two facing
Wait, she ain’t even get that
Let me show you how a con go (Congo) harder
I said Zulu, Tootsie, Hutu… that mean when I slap every tribe out her
Even Afrika Bambaataa ‘ll rewind her (Rwanda) slaughter
Murk me? How, b*tch? You ain’t even worth the while
I’ll smack this b*tch on the bathroom floor; now she Verse-a-tile
Cause I’m mad y’all even think Verse is better, cause she circle-stepping, blurting metas and nervous gestures
Desperate for a card again (cardigan)
So all these nerds could sweat her (sweater)
So now, I got to Prep for Redemption
Cause if these bars don’t Chill(-)a n*gga, I got the perfect setup
When it’s showtime, you either getting Clips or Hollows
I’m trying to figure out which Verbs are better
The fact you think you naturally have to rap like Dizaster’s a f*cking disease
She like, “he got baaas.” That’s cause he be f*cking the sheep
I can tell by your ex(X)-men that you don’t want to f*ck with a Beast
So one red flag, I’m at her door (matador) for trying to run with that bull
I don’t duck b*tches. I muzzle they beaks
This jackrabbit rhymes like a crack habit smack addict;
She really want to be a heroine
She yelling “f*ck the presidents,” but really f*ck the presidents;
You b*tches love to be in Maryland(Marilyn)
This beatboxing, breakdance hip—
b*tch, you don’t even want to be your heritage
Trying to make a better life thus far by getting stripes off stars?
Aw, you really want to be American
Well where they discover you land is where this could get settled then
Cause one April shower and I May flower the land you settle in
But if the Nina Pint-her, she’ll pray to Santa Maria; let that settle in
That mean you getting scalped in the end (Indian)
Cause what I peel grim (pilgrim), that’s what a settle meant (settlement)

[Round 3: Myverse]
Yo, that’s so funny, you brought your Mike boo, right?
I don’t care what your lines do
It’s funny, cause ironic you always have a ghost behind you
Since you said you top five off of looks alone
Bet I’ll give your top five off of looks alone
Bonnie ‘ll top five off of looks alone
You could tell your twat wide off of looks alone
She figured, Drake loves strippers, so she became one by delusion
And hopes he move in
And touch her arm and say, “You don’t have to do this.”
You have the nerve to judge Germ Free when you’re worse, B
You show your bare ass, just for a name
You’ve literally put everything but your vag on display
You’re one selfie away from catching AIDS
She’s in danger, it’s safe to say, cause I could put the four-five to your shoulder
But if a thirty-eight bust, see your waist in thirty-six days
Eight teens got hip to the stench of Bonnie rotting (Rotten)
I’ll let the five and nine find you head to toe altered with no options
Whole time in mind I measured your body for the coffin
I may not speak it, but I was taught how to aim one
To tell you the truth, I’d rather make your face up
Show your jaw the bottom of a barrel; remind you where you came from
But where you going is beneath and below the floor bed
You were j*rking off in Milwaukee with Vixen
Really choking; this chicken got bodied by Norbes ex
Cause when you did that, you stepped in some sh*t, puto
Want to talk about people choking people, but you though
In that battle with Uno
Let me punt (pun) it correct:
If he kicked it last, you would’ve been rebuttal’d to death
Crazy cause after the battle she gave him dome for the win;
I guess that’s the second time Uno got pus*y after choking a b*tch
As a personal vengeance and as a woman, too, I was rooting for you
We were all rooting for you
But instead of thinking the whole time, “Damn, what Bonnie on,”
I was thinking, “Damn, Bon, neon?”
My fashion statements welcomed. Your fashion states men will c*m, cause if it’s fake angles only, well that’s a lack of creativity shown
But it’s evident, Bonnie. You’re a hoe
I got that Erykah Badu pus*y; you got that airing out a room pus*y
May be a eye candy, thinking it’s the sweetest
But like mama said on Halloween, if this (w)rapper’s open, don’t eat it
You’re a ventriloquist and your clitoris is the color of licorice
And if you licked her ish then you licked her itch and that’s sick as sh*t
So I’ll address her call
I’m from East Orlando, but I could show you the West Palm
Goons run up with you saying your name; word is, bond
Word is, Bon used to f*ck John John Da Don
Almost had a baby named Bon Bon Da Don
This angle for you is signature; she forged her vows. Her initial man opt
She was just a chicken scratch once she got John hand c*ck (Hanc*ck)
Here is where the chain connects, where she flaked the best:
You ducked me in April cause you f*cked half of the main event
You vexed, huh?
How ‘bout after Math made you a step-ma he told you to step, Ma
Had a baby with the next broad
Couldn’t take you up, even said you were a lazy f*ck
See how that real ‘ll stretch her?
Or how you had to take twenty blow jobs to support Bill Collector?
I can’t even point out with all fingers who’s your damn lover
Just habits from her elders she learned to act under
Your real pops is your dad’s brother
And you share f*cking club clothes with your grandmother
I was a fan of her, ’til she was stamped an impostor quick
I’m battling her ghosts cause her writers can’t top my sh*t
I summon those skeletons in your closet hid, cause even though I Used To Love H.E.R.,
The Resurrection of her was Common Sense