[Round 1: Illmaculate]
This battle I'm catchin' a body, and if they disagree, fuck 'em
He thought I emptied the clip, I keep dumpin'
I'm offin' this rapper with a Hollow/Dizaster
You don't catch it? That's one round he didn't see comin'!
Let's just go to it: Chilla at a Chinese restaurant
"When that steam dump, lend me a hand
Or duck when that bird fly
Organik let us rap, so watch his egg roll, noodle gettin' stir fried
I'm a general so every gun in my house Special, keep it low, mane
Try to take my cash, you chicken
Anyone in the sesh want it, it can be o-ranged"
Dawg, you are the worst thing that we sit through
It's even worse when the scheme hits you
Bitch, you rap like you learnin' to read
And your fans react 'cause they learnin' to read with you
He'll act like he does more than scheme
You know, say that he's well-rounded
I'm like, "But you only do one thing!"
He was like, "Well, round it!"
Chilla, you did it, I did it better with little effort
Breakin' this trick down, my pen is Penn & Teller
Teleport your inner dweller
The Heckler metal enter your cerebellum
I Robert Beck and kill the teller, then I'm interstellar
The block hotter than chili peppers, Chilla feel the pressure
He talkin' choppers? The bitch would never
Ask him he got the chopper, the shit propellers
Tell King Pen it's whatever
I hit King then I hit Coretta
Bullets too big to measure, lift his body like liftin' feathers
Bodies on the toast like the shit's bruschetta
Chilla lose, Chilla wine, put him in the cellar
I'll skin you alive then rock Chilla in chilly weather
Split you in half and you get stitched together
So many stitches down his middle section
It resemble leather jacket zippers down his center
Like Michael Jackson's fit on the Thriller record
Dawg, when you rap, it's traits of a slow reader
I raise eyebrows when lines connect: I basically go Frida
They sent you to Heaven's Gates facin' a cult leader
I even take my blade on the road […]
That means I came out with the razor like Snake on a Nokia
I'm cut different
You know what he reminds me of? I just figured it out
You know them crime movies
Where the murder goes unsolved, instead
Chief closes the case, but one cop's obsessed
Ready to jump off the ledge
Trashy apartment, files everywhere… on one wall's a-spread
Covered in string connecting news clippings, drunk, poppin' meds
That wall's your style, Chilla, your schemes are just one awful mess
Just a bunch of random shit tied together with one common thread!
[Round 1: Chilla Jones]
Hold it down for me
I'm a little under the weather, but we gonna rock

After this, it's no comin' back
I'm nuts, it's time for all men to peek and see Mac a dame—
Nope, homie, I ain't come with none of that, it's a fuckin' rap

[Illmac:] Good!

[Chilla:] Why take me in a place where my name's known?
Ain't no killin' Chill, and whoever feelin' Ill shoulda stayed home
Boy, it's Jones, I'm who they see for bars
Punches and schemes, who here sicker?
When I land mine it's explosive, fuck the crew here with ya
You ever see a n***a battlin' at home, with the crowd in they palm
Well, you 'bout to get a new clear picture, n***a
That's why I'm flippin' from the jump like parkour
Why start for? This ain't a smart war
This is Darfur, I'm hardcore
My mind and my heart got dark origins
They'll find parts and organs in different parts of Oregon
Portland, spar warrior, I'ma start mournin' him
And thank me for the return of the Mac: I'm Mark Morrison
I'm warnin' him, 'cause Jiminy Cricket ain't artillery grippin'
Is y'all from Pittsburgh?
Then why y'all told me Mac mill'll be spittin'?
We on this card because of me, why would it really be different?
You ain't been on the bill in a minute, you Hillary Clinton
It's filler he's written, so why Q you, Ill?
Your pen featherweight
I'm catchin' bodies at every Massacre like Leatherface
So settle for second place
Every match a career-builder indeed
You linked in with a monster, check my resume
But before you say it first, you're not the "cockiest combo of Rocky, Apollo, Ali and Drago"
Before you chop me, I bought me a Hanzo
And had it brought to me pronto
You got the heart to tell tales in all of these convos
But they ain't ravin' for you?
Damn, y'all brought me the wrong Poe!
I wanted to match a stack with the Don and get John dough
But he ducked it, I said fuck it, anybody get John Doe'd
You gettin' broke off and smoked, like I copped me a Fronto
You can not see the squad bro, they constantly on though
Prob'ly a long nose, like it gotta be Gonzo
You'll hear us pop so much you woulda thought he was Lonzo
No wonder your chick love our balls… yeah, there I go uppercuttin'
It's all about timin' a swing, it's like we double-Dutchin'
He ain't see that fucker comin'
That don't mean I'm sucker punchin'
He's 5 foot fuckin' nothin', but trust he's still up to somethin'
Frontin' like you got a deal
When's the next state-to-state tour?
Your beats be gettin' laced for sure, shoutout to Chase Moore
But if you worked harder at your dreams and gave Chase more
You'd be makin' bigger cash deposits down at Chase more
But I downloaded your shit, passed your tapes around
Obviously he can write
But he's short, poor, insecure, a weakling thinkin' he can fight
He's hot-headed, a pessimist, disturbed with no peace at night
He's arrogant, emotional, a pothead who can't sleep at night
Your race is undetermined, chicks think you the creepy type
And you got a Napoleon complex – Jesus Christ!
Just kill yourself, Mac, I gave you 13 reasons why!
[Round 2: Illmac]
You call yourself King Pen
What, you talkin' Pablo? Frank Lucas? El Chapo?
Shit, we all know King Pen is a bitch, just ask Griselda Blanco
What, you talkin' comics like the bad guy in Marvel?
You've never been animated, I put the graphic in graphic novel
Like kingpin, that's Wilson Fisk dealin' bricks
On some real militant villain shit
Chilla Jones? Chill at home, Sherlock
Cock-eyed, fuck two birds with a stone, I'll take out the bird's flock
Eyes closed, hit everything: birdshot
Justice is mine, so justice is blind like Matt Murdock
Your life like Riddler doin' math, I'm just addin' problems
Run up on Batman walkin', put on a Joker mask and rob him
Kill Croc, melt Mr. Freeze like Baskin Robbins
Batter Robin, use an atom bomb to flatten Gotham
That's the Dr. Manhattan Project
You talkin' comics? What you mean then, King Pen?
King of writing? Fuck is this boy puffin'?
I'm thinkin' Kingpin the movie; give him a hand, he's Roy Munson
Fuck 'em, head kick, Cro Cop, knock him off his soap box
Throat chop, paralyze his face: Botox
Throw shots, but put me on your Rushmore when you show props
'Cause I set precedence
For dead presidents he'll get his dome rocked!
Knuckle up, I'll uppercut him out his low-tops
Shots will lift him 'til his body stiffen like he tryna do the robot
Pocket check, no slot, burner ready, stovetop
Chrome Glock, stick up this sucker like a Blow Pop
Don't flop, Chilla, or it's no (Shox)
When you get your (Soul) swapped
Necrophiliac: deadass, you gettin' cold-cocked
[…] stop, I'm tryna get this paper, I'm a smoke shop
Treat him like the bitch he always was; Bruce Jenner, post-op
Bitch, you got me bored to death, cadence slow
You insecure basic ho
Westworld: only way you're known's makin' clones
One punch, he'll speak through the wire… facial bones
Breaking Bad, cable show, Game of Thrones
It don't matter what tier he in, play your role
Or it's static from the start: that's the intro on HBO
This like Paid in Full, it feels like we part of the cast
I'm Ace eatin' Chinese food while he balls up the bags
You Mitch: lose the bet and ask to borrow some cash
'Cause I'm here eatin' and he still thinks he got a shot with that trash!
[Round 2: Chilla]
Y'all remember I told Diz "I got the blueprint for the body, I'm Michael Scofield"? Bars is always part of the plan
Can Ill out us? Nah, he's my pupil
See I got him in the palm of my hands
I was offered the chance knowin' that I gotta defeat you
How? Usin' a blueprint of everybody who beat you
So let me jump in this Conceited bag, let me ask New York
These genius bars, they gonna have to give Mac support
You lack support on the East as a whole – don't you get it, Mac?
You screamin' out you love New York, but you a midget, Mac
It's tit for tat arguin' fame
Nintendo Punchout the only time little Mac was a star in the game
Let's keep goin', let me jump in this Hollow bag
Shit, I'll give you the same slogan
Like, to beat me, you'll need Professor X with his brain focused
The Phoenix with flames glowin'
Gambit with his Ace showin'
Cyclops with the shades low, Logan with his rage growin'
So if you see my shirt tear in the ring it ain't Hogan
It's the Incredible Hulk rippin' a different type of tank open
And they hopin' I jump in that Arsonal bag
But you was drunk and in need of help
All it took was a shot and a couple beers and you beat yourself
And plus it's somethin' about bein' original
When you can hear a n***a and tell they fresh
Every line on every watch
Whether you get it on the 1st or 15th like a welfare check
That's why these rappers like Serius and A. Ward steal my schemes
They feel like it'll help their rep
My style different, that's why they jack it inside and out like Will Smith at Bel-Air Prep
So they can take an L here next, for now it's you losin' bro
You thought it'd be smooth sailin'
Until you hit a wall like the Truman Show
Tool explode, you have to take an L
Could give a fuck if it's legal, I see food
Let's get it crackin' with a shell
I'll send him flyin' through the window, glass shatterin' as well
He'll say hello from the other side, I'm turnin' Mac into a Dell
Come get exposed, sir
Greg Poe's a poser
And a snitch, I bet po po are headed where you post, sir
Check the polls, sir
I'm killin' him; check his pulse, sir
To beat me you need stilts, a stepping stool and a growth spurt
You need to grow, sir
Because you could probably fit in a paper bag from the grocer
What's even grosser is that I net what you grow, sir
Look closer, I'm rippin' with the flow
Y'all seen The Last Dragon; Sho'nuff, all I was missin' was the glow
I got a gift rappin', but I'll still push your rib in with a bow
I'm shockin' all you, kickin' in the do', grippin' on a fo'
To make Mac true to his name: have him sittin' with some holes
But like a subtweet, I had to sneak dis in on the low
So what you beat Pat? Y'all been blinded, it seems
Don't let that win(d)shield your eyes like Lightning McQueen
I'm from the bean
You might have battled dudes who sound like me
But you ain't never stood in front of three rounds like these
(Bosstown!) [crowd repeats]

[Round 3: Illmac]
You ever noticed this?
Chilla, you got that "where my hug at?" vibe
Friendzoned by your crush and gotta hear about when she fucks that guy
Chilla thinkin', "He don't deserve you, he don't believe in you."
Droppin' hints, bumpin' Drake like, "Girl… I wrote a scheme for you."

"I'll Take Care of you, Thank Me Later… I knew when I met her
What a Time to be Alive when me and you are together
If You're Reading This, It's Too Late like a suicide letter"
She's like, "Are you drunk right now?"
He's like, "I'm just sayin' you can do better" [crowd sings along]

[Jokingly to the crowd:] Yeah, he's corny, he's a cornball…
I'm surprised no one noticed

Yo, that Rone angle won't work, Chilla
'Cause you were campaignin' for the chain before I even beat Stay
Now he mad they exclusive with the title
Hmm… 4:44 on release day
I'm cocky with the flow, tell me why he stands a chance
Look at my career: more bodies in a row than a Chinese dragon dance
No matter where you at, you trash… you come off as awkward from Cali to Boston, Boston to Toronto, partner
You perform at the same bar in every scene like the Jabba monster
Your bitch open sesame like Ali Baba
Get sprayed in the mouth, it's not Binaca
She took a knee for the shot: that's a rocket launcher
Fuck an all-time list that I'm not on top of
But even if my name's not on the roster
As long as they left off his like Barack Obama
Fam crazy, my mom will pop ya
Where the squad you brought up?
Get your family owned, I'll mom and pop ya
Pop up at the old folks home your grandfather wanders
And kamikaze bomb it like Hector Salamanca
I've realigned my chakras
I'll check him if he trippin', I'm a shaman doctor
That's why I came out, a body experience, where's the Ayahuasca?
I'm off my rocker, E. Honda box ya
If you thought I was duckin' it's just to Blanka shock ya
Mortal Kombat, pull that Katana on ya
Blade like Baraka's claws
Couldn't stop it rockin' Kabal's body armor
Voorhees, horror scenes and your death's next
War paint, call him war chief when his head rests
Glove on my hand like when you throw catch
Hit you then throw away the stick – go fetch!
Dog, not every scheme you do is clever, not every simile's a punch
The truth's a bodyblow
It can take your wind when you feel it in the gut
He got killed by QP, I give a fuck if he gets amped
Bodied by Pass, how you get touched if your pen can't?
JC killed you, now you gettin' slumped on the red cam
Think IG livestream: since you wanted Funk, this a Flex rant
I'm just throwin' mud on a deadman
Foreman in Zaire, that means you gettin' snuffed by the ex-champ
Chill, Chilla… to be the king, you have to at least win
Shit, I been the king, and you ain't been where a king's been
My heart, ice… watch a wolf feed on a sheep's skin
Signed "sincerely yours" in blood with the king's pen – Ill!

[Round 3: Chilla]
The best part of that last round was when you said my vibe screams "where's my hug at?"
Funniest part is your vibe screams "Rugrat"
But y'all remember I told Arcane
"There is a method to kill a ol' dirty bastard like Wu Tang"?
Well, now the G.O.A.T. battlin' Ill: this is Jordan in the flu game
This how we do thangs when my bros starvin'
Show him the whole Boston, and when they go rob him
I'm like (laughs)… that was your own problem
Which is funny, 'cause last time you got your chain took
That was your Rone problem
But since you lost your chain and Solomon returned, your bandwagon fans declinin'
Be honest, even when you stand beside 'em
You hope Bishop and Ganik dyin'
But don't beef with this mark with y'all names at stake
He tried to get y'all pressed with hot metal
All 'cause you've been brandin' Iron
See, I earned every name I battled in my life 'cause I stand out
Think I'm lyin'? Give me five…
Exactly, I ain't never had a handout
I took my own damn route, you can't call me wack
Bitch, I'm the King Pen, it's time to show you why they call me that
I used Blackout to generate a buzz with Gjonaj instead of passin' him over
I could've overcharged just to sock it to him
But instead I stayed grounded and took a short
'Cause I ain't half of these vultures
Ghostwriting used to be my outlet, givin' powered lines to the circuit 'til I seen n***as was actually posers
Now they shocked that I refuse to be the plug for those why try to stay current and can't adapt to the culture
This shit is light work, I ain't sayin' you're pure garbage
But since '09 it's like you reversed progress
I promise I'll never speak like you're weak or the worst artist
But like cheatin' in hide-and-seek
The kid (peaked) when he first started
Let's be honest, you're the most outrageous of specimens
It's like two midget Native Americans
Mated and created a Mexican
But y'all know how vile it could get if I don't joke or kid
But y'all picked Poe and said he'd kill me like he been tough
Look how lil he is, thinkin' everything is dandy, lyin' how he take a P and he sell it but never made 10 bucks
And nowadays he front like he rose from the bottom
Claimin' every lie lack truth, but I'ma let him pretend, but...
The reason I broke him down with this flower scheme, is 'cause if this coward swing then the floor is where he gon' end up
Throw your best flurry
A clean right, you'll get left dirty, plus the left dirty
Like a 6 AM yoga class, Mac, you gettin' stretched early
I'm Steph Curry, you Kerry Kittles in a Nets jersey
This a fresh thirty, I'm Magic in his prime
And I don't even think your best worthy
But it's gonna take a whole lot of eras for us to tie, Poe
This body gon' be a bad one… and I don't gotta lie, Poe
My flow, progressive in all states nationwide, this guy cold
Mariah Carey: I'm endin' every performance on a high note
'Cause I'm the line-for-line G.O.A.T. and that's why you losin' now
Against Mr. Jump-to-top-tier-from-the-Proving-Grounds
Bosstown!