[Round 1: Ill Will]
‘Ello, bruv…
I’m doing all right, dodging the Corona (*chuckles*)
Yes, I’m just in the ghetto sipping tea (*sips out of a teacup*)
Okay, cheerio
Oh, I have a voicemail
(Ill Will, I had a wonderful time with you
Free C. Heard - YakTown in this bitch)
Oh…’ello, Shotty, welcome to my bloody party
Oh, that was your mum, and she’s very fucking naughty…
I watched you vers’ Clips, and you was actin’ like a bitch in that battle
Pointin’ at yo’ hip like you was gon’ clap dude
If you woulda did me like that in yo’ country, I woulda slapped you
Mad ‘cause Clips had a DNA and Chilla bit
But if I expose these clips, you gon’ lose DNA and chill a bit
I’ll walk up to your whore, Horroh, like, “You the whore of Horroh?”
And then bring horror to your whore, Horroh
And have a whole horde of whores
Watching your family die in the hallway, all because your corps adore (corridor) ya
Watch ya life go dark
Bullets the size of blow darts
Fo’ spark, or I could just clean money like the Ozarks
Big .40 under noses, it’s nothin’ closest
They gon’ put flowers on top of Shotty if we rock: Guns N’ Roses!
Somebody better tell Shotty
Your mama be givin’ me that tail, Shotty
You wouldn’t make it in this ring if you was Sonic or Tails, Shotty!
It’s crazy where I’m from - I could give you a few tales, Shotty
I mastered gun sounds
You ain’t loud enough - (*chk-chk*) I can tell shottys!
You frail-body pale Nazi!
I ain’t believin’ your quotes
White boy be cookin’, but he ain’t got enough seasonin’, though
Get a knee in ya throat
Whole museum of toast
Gun trash - Ill litter it (illiterate), but the people got you readin’ it, though
Even the sco’
If it’s two wit’ you, then I hit three in a row
I’m a Capricorn, so even if I’m in Horroh scope (horoscope), he still seein’ the GOAT!
Let’s see how this go…
We supply what go in them syringes, my n***a
But we ain’t know the effects of what that needle do
I just seen n***as open up doors wit’ bricks...like Beetlejuice!
You don’t need the proof - you are not tough
I brought plates like a potluck
And this ain’t Beetlejuice: you say a name one time, and we pop up!
I’m very impatient
But I’m glad the larry done came in
Bills movin’, every location
Trunk full of veterinarian patients
‘Caine wrapped, the coke so white, the brick stamp say “Aryan Nation”
The texture of it? Quite chowdery, motherfucker
And I wish you would say “White power”, you white powdery motherfucker!
I’ll put you on a damn stretcher, wit’ the rage of my ancestors
Bobby Johnson wit’ a hand gesture
They like, “Where you goin’ wit’ that shotgun, Willie?”
Manchester!
That’s crazy…
Little .9, but the blast crazy
I don’t give a fuck how the doctor feel (Dr. Phil)
I told you you ain’t wanna catch me outside wit’ that bad baby! (Bhad Bhabie)
YakTown in this bitch
[Round 1: Shotty Horroh]
Some said I wasn’t gonna show up
RBE, that’s what the talk was about
But I show up to the showdown to show off when the-
Man, I got no ill will towards Ill Will
So I’m kind of annoyed to do this, but…
But I seen that battle with Rex and had to reflect
I had a point to prove: both of these boys are stupid
See, self-isolation, stay indoors, avoid the movement
Read a book, clean shit up
I don’t know, enjoy some music
But here you go, filming...outside
I feel sorry for the cameraman you employed to do this
‘Cause you wanted to jump on the Yak, you drag him through Pontiac…spittin’ at him
Now his new job is avoiding your poison mucus
But what happens when you take this home to your family?
That’s why I said you boys are foolish
‘Cause yeah, the camera angle’s nice, but if his family dies, that’s his sacrifice
And...somethin’ I attribute (tribute) to Will like Joyner Lucas
Your voice is stupid, and I don’t like the way you be speakin’ still
Same wit’ his rapping
I’m asymptomatic: I got it...I just wasn’t feeling Ill
Talkin’ about…”Hold on
You never had to grab the strap and tell them to...hold on”
You’re right ‘cause this thing I hold on
Will have your mother cryin’, needing some to hold on
Fuck Ill Will!
Ill Will’s grounded ‘cause I said so
Tell his little friends to come to the window, they can lip-read his bars
Ayo, ARP! You better tell me if this little bitch leave the yard
But since you don’t wanna listen to the rules, I think this shit need to spark
And when your family visit your gravesite, it’s social distancing…’cause you’ll be 6 feet apart!
Fuck out of here