[Round 1: Bartone]
Yo, you're a sucka free boss? Well you know I'm ill
This battle took way too long to start, learn how to fold your bills
Ayo, Pat Stay? Patrick leave
And don't rep your turf when you clash with me
There's no pride in Nova Scotia, that's why they made Alexander Keys
Your land mass has the most boring atmosphere
Cause when the explosion in Halifax appeared
The masses were sad with tears
But a day went by then they were like, "Wow. Something actually happened here!"
Yo, you're not relevant! How you helping the scene?
Or thinking you're even half as electric as me
When you barely brought fire to an Elements league?
And you got gangsta parties really wrong
Holding fishing rods and singing songs does not count cause you guys got your fitted on
He doesn't even care if the battle leagues in my favor
He's just trying to flee his five acres to see a skyscraper
You're tall, but had the smallest vision in all ways
So I find it kinda sad you spit with adult taste
That you're in Hollohan's shadow and can't fit in the full space
Yo, the reason Pat's not fake, even though his writtens are wack
Is cause you made a bitch of a track called 'I'm Dying' and today you get to live what you rap

[Round 1: Pat Stay]
I know everyone watching this battle has been wanting to say this forever
"Bartone knows those hoes" is the fucking lamest shit ever!
Like what hoes?
I mean if you got some freaks let's call a bitch up
If her pussy is as tight as your rhymes then I'll just get my dick sucked
You're a country boy from Cambridge, like what can you even rap about?
Drive-bys on paddle boats?
Gangbanging a rabbit hole?
Like how the fuck did this actually happen?
When did Alan Jackson start battle rapping?
He thought 2Pac died in a NASCAR accident
Yo, you look like a fucking billy goat, like seriously
He couldn't pick up girls if he was on a cheer leading team
And this sucker's fiending
Ladies give him a chance, he fucking needs it
The last person who even touched his penis was his uncle Cletus
But I wouldn't take my chances cause when Jason's naked he prances
And you'll mistake him for either Marilyn Manson or a praying mantis
Plus you know them country folk, too scared to fuck a ho
Only time he screws nuts and bolts is when his truck is broke
[Round 2: Bartone]
Ayo the truth is this
I got crews that pursue the chips
You? Have a canoe to fix and a string that's tied to a stick
Yo, so how can you claim you're legit?
When you're used to holding tuna fish in front of mirrors yelling "Who's the bitch?!"
Here, we fight foul over things that matter see
You read Lifestyle Nova Scotia magazine with pike out hoping you can have a dream
Men, I think he'd rather fly back
And why's that?
Cause he you can't buy crack from a guy in a kayak
Plus, [?] off the top, it's weak how you spit
How scenile is this?
I seen you choke against Miracle you d-d-don't keep it lyrical
So leave now ya bitch cause your freestyles are shit
Yo, he isn't genuine, this man's a faggot in the flesh
He goes to Indian reserves and gets intimate with Inuits
Then comes out with a big ass bag of cigarettes
Yo, that's why you get cut when you're talking sessions
You got taught by Jeff but didn't follow the lessons
So now you'll never face Twist cause students always come second

[Round 2: Pat Stay]
If you beat me tonight my rap career, shit, I'll probably have to end it
But the chances of that are lower than your body fat percentage
But who knows, right?
He could be one of them genius guys seeing signs
Shit I wouldn't be surprised if he could read my mind with those beady eyes
Yo I gotta admit, that was a sick verse
I respect the way that you twist words
And I believe that you're a real cat, but that's because you have whiskers
Always rocking them black clothes
He just don't even change huh?
This useless piece of shit couldn't sell his soul to Shang Tsung
This guy's worthless
He's so skinny, when he burps it hurts him
If bird shit landed on his head it would probably murk him
Why am I battling a bulimic dude?
I'm 'bout to eat his food and that's not even cool
Yo his last battle he ate out Tricky P then left the scene and puked
See you're the reason why I hate rap you should be speeding on a race track
He's a skinny guy from the country, a needle in a haystack
And I can't tell if this fucking queer's a musketeer or a buccaneer
But you need to shave that crusty beard, un-tuck your ears and go hunt some deer
Bitch!
[Round 3: Bartone]
Go hunt some deer? I'll out rhyme this ho
You're the type of fag that makes "trout" rhyme with "boat"
Ayo, Ontario is good to me and it won't be nice to you
One in three Canadian families can't afford to enroll their kids in sports
So putting up cash son was kind of you
But shouldn't you be playing hockey or something? Oh yeah that's what you're trying to do
Yo, you wouldn't be a baller at the line of scrimmage, guys just quit it
Your TV's a box with a hole that has two beavers fighting in it
That makes us look bad, it's sad but it's true
Yankees assume we say crap like "aboot" cause of faggots like you
Yo, and judging by his actions, Pat is hurt and not honest
Hollohan picks up your slack, you should be paying him homage
Since the city knows who really wrote your verses for Chronic
You're not close to a boss with any vision of wealth
You wanna slit your arm to catch glimpses of Hell
Cause you can't be sucka free having to live with yourself
I lost once, but it doesn't phase me or aggravate me
And I'll never lose again, especially when my opponent's name is Patty Cakes
So you won't make it busting raps, I hope you're putting this all together
You'll just be a lumberjack with tons of bass in the shittiest province ever
Now get outta here!

[Round 3: Pat Stay]
I don't know why he keeps making fisherman jokes cause I ain't that type of guy
But you will get a hook in the jaw if you bite my lines!
I came here by myself, and I ain't scared of no motherfuckers!
His whole crew is like a Halloween in the ghetto: just a bunch of suckers!
See, back in Nova Scotia, we got mad respect for Toronto
But your flow sucks nuts like an elephant's nostrils
And I'm assuming, since I'm alone, your boys prolly wanna box
Well, we can take this shit outside like a Johnny On The Spot!
Yo, I can't wait to show the whole world the bitch in you, man
And I'll make it a point, too, like a fifth of a gram
You ain't a hard knock, you're a loser
Your alarm clock is a rooster
And I'm a pervert: your baby sister uses my large cock for a soother
And I'm an alcoholic, but your parents must get wasted as fuck
'Cause you're living proof that people make their biggest mistakes when they're drunk
And I might be tall and lanky, and drink Colt 45's
But you're as soft as your grandmother's last words before she died!