Rone
Rone vs. The Kid
[Round 1: The Kid]
You have the face of bird
(TIME!)
I'm joking that was '60s angle when he first spoke to this guy
So don't cry, I don't need any bird jokes to be fly
I mean, what is this shit? The battle of who's the skinniest white guy?
You don't have a chance at that
Yeah, sure, if either one of us tried to hold up that camera or arms would snap
Most MC's go out for the win and try to leave you blown away
Well if me and Rone go out in the wind we'll be blown away
But as for that white guy shit
That's where we're dealing with a different sort of cat
It's time little Roney started admitting it's a fact
That he's just another little wigger wishing he was black
Like if somebody says they're not gay over and over again, they're wanting the cock
So if Rone says he's proud he's white in every battle in
He is obviously not
I bet when he goes up to black dudes he tries so hard to fit in
But starts backtracking before they know what he said
"What's up my negros! I said
'My knee grows and my arm grows, so does my leg. That's what I meant."
You're fake just to pretend and that's why you'll never get the crown
But hold up that's some shit I'm holding for the second round
You should be embarrassed to be back
Last time you were fucking terrible
Now you're thinking you can beat me?
When you tried to slam Dunk, you dribbled then missed the rim completely
If you wanted that win dude you should've just come with better punches
Yes I lost to him too but that was because of jealous judges
I'll be making sure this one this one has a different end
You might be dead funny but no one's ever robbing/Robin Williams again
Now I gotta address his hatred for our country
Rone fucking hates Australia for real
When he battled 360 he said, fuck our koalas and our wallaby's, right?
Wrong, fuck your standards and policies, fuck your amateur comedies
Fuck the government you love and fuck your land of dishonesty
Us Aussies are polite, we're no one to sound blunt
So welcome to Australia, go fuck yourself cunt

[Round 1: Rone]
This is the fourth battle I've fucking had this week
That's fucking crazy y'all
But since there's paper on, I ain't getting lazy dawg
I work The Kid so hard before the lights upon the stage go off
That Decoy might get arrested for fucking breaking child labor laws
See, I know you have some bars about my battle with Patrick
I said that all as a joke, but you can understand this
If you ain't get the humor involved you really on some fag shit
You probably take more black dick than fucking Frank Ocean and Sam Smith
See, you're the type to have a sex change and then still turn dyke
Then change his mind, get a fake dick and divorce his first wife
Your body's so bird like that you get rolled like the turnpike
And homie, I'm about as tolerant as the fucking Third Reich
See, I'm not a Nazi, but I live by a code like I'm Hammurabi
And straight to my death like a kamikaze
Disrespect me? Guarantee I gut him like Mahi Mahi
I'll be snapping on him everywhere he goes like the paparazzi
I can't believe you just said you're more skinny and white than me
You're kidding me right?
I'm skinny and white as skinny and white can be
I'm so slight and white, so fucking pale and frail
They thought it was lime disease
But I went to the doc and they said it's not it's just Skinny and White disease
I mean, I don't even know how to explain it
What I should really tell you buddy
I'm so skinny and white my own skeleton is fucking jealous of me
But you're just a bitch artist, the way that you're regarded
So, fucking, size is the only way you can win by a slim margin
See, your shit is horseshit, barely a bomb threat
I'm chemical warfare, torch flares to rock flesh
So that should set you up to the irony we got next
Your rhymes are so simple, they give me a complex
Your concepts are so basic, there's no fucking twist, there's no wrinkle
I mean, I don't even know how else to say it dawg
Simply put; they're simple
Bro, fucking, the way that you rap, it's clear you're an amateur
You could never use ProTools
This little guy is a bitch inside
I'll fucking school him up like it's old school
You'll get chicken fried with a biscuit side and I ain't talking soul food
I'll whip The Kid's ass in his own country
That means The Kid is getting home schooled

[Round 2: The Kid]
Yo I was told that Rone loves his horror movies
He likes to watch them night and day
Well The Kid's a little Hellraiser, so this won't be Child's Play
Been trying to take my Candyman, I'll set the scene like Halloween
Take a sword to this American Psycho just to hear him Scream
But before he's dead and buried, I'll cut the bitch with a blade
And come back 28 Days Later just to Spit On Your Grave
But just like those horror movies your styles so fake
You ain't rapping, you just rambling
How people don't see through it, I'll never be understanding
You have zero swag, your whole style needs revamping
Well I got the doe for swag, I take it with me when I'm camping
So don't believe what you hear just because this man said it
Rone's a cross dressing dad, he's completely transparent
Just cookie cutter rhymes they don't differ or change in every battle he's in
He just spits it the same
He'll fucking start it off slow and begin when he rhyme
The fucking simplest shit dawg, you just spit it in time
He'll say "fucking" a million times, he's forgetting his rhymes
He's setting up a weak punch like he's mixing in wine
How you survived in the game that your lines were crap
You're at the height of your gain and you're declining it's fact
You're never trying to change and all your writing is wack
Because your fucking style is the same every time that your rap!
You can't win against The Kid, Rone let's face it
I mean, instead of battling me you should've just gone to the bar
Met a nice girl to take home in your car
Get her knocked up with a bun in the oven
Then every night give her nothing but loving
'Til she delivers that bundle of joy and you discover you've got a son it's a boy
Watch him take his first steps, speak his first words be proud of that moment
He frees his first turd
Then wait 'til he's big and leaving his crib
Just 'til he can speak and he's reading a bit
Then BASH his head in 'til he bleeds on his bib
Cause THAT'S the only way that you're beating The Kid

[Round 2: Rone]
So uh, I was supposed to battle Uno Lavos last week
But he backed out so I got effed over
Combine that with the fact that I missed Thanksgiving dawg
Well...you're getting some leftovers
Your mom's pussy doesn't queef, IT FUCKING BELCHES!
She makes smiley faces above it
Peanut butter and Welches
A bunch of tourist's fell in and now they stuck in there helpless
Down with Keenan and Kel and Elvis and the 45 Celtics
Your mom's pussy's so heavy she need a back brace!
She pull them lips up and hop around like it's a motherfucking sack race!
That shit smell like mayonnaise, it's nicknamed "The Man Cave"
And trying to fuck her is like dropping a coffee straw through the top of a lampshade
You can tell by the way he's not grinning
That he already thinks that he's winning
He just wants to tell all these friends that he's won
It's just part of the web that he's spinning
Like how this nerdy guy looks 35, he's frail and his hair's thinning
So you call yourself The Kid, man, who the fuck are you kidding?
You are softer than that butter soaked lobster with my pasta dish
You pussy, cookies, chocolate chips
But that's to state the obvious
I'm the champ like David Robinson coached by Gregg Popovich
I will make Foley sock the bitch right outta Erin Brockovich
I mean, it's almost like
I mean, I don't know why you're looking at me you trying to get violent for
I'm violent as a Viking lord swinging a giant sword
You'll get dropped like a fat guy trying to ride a horse
I'll put The Kid on two crutches and we can call that shit "child support"
It's like a 2-0 count how I'm swinging on The Kid
But I scouted his box game when he was ripping at the gym
Any hook, I try to throw it, he gon' slip it with the dips
So I'm straight right at his stomach and I hit him in the chin
And that combo, is on though, as soon as I'm rolling up
He'll have molars and incisors out his mouth as he's throwing up
He's looking at me astounded, I'm like, "Bro, you know what's up."
If you're a Kid, well losing you teeth is just part of growing up
But I love to hear you talk about the harm he'll bring
Like he'll probably hit me in the head so hard it rings
It's so cute, to see him think that he's the fucking sparing king
I guess you heard it before man, Kids Say The Darnest Things

[Round 3: The Kid]
With a nose that fucking big I bet you can smell me from here
Fucking smelling all sweat like a [?] peach
But won't have to point your nose at my shoes to get the smell of defeat/de feet
You've been smelling that for years choking on your lines as you stutter
Shit you've taken more L's than a driving instructor
Man you must be pissed that Daylyt got that title shot by crapping on the stage
I mean, the dude's weird and why aren't you feared?
When you've been shit on stage for the last two years
It's cause you ain't spitting fire, you ain't bringing any flame
We're all thinking that you're lame, spitting lyrics is the same
As every bitch up in the game
And you must think that it's a shame that no one's giving you the fame
The only Real Deal you're getting came with you on that plane
Now just two years ago, it looked like his career had some promise
But I hadn't even started, it was clear I was a novice
You battled A-Class, DNA, going out and slaying cats
I just started growing killing David Kinch and Maniac
But after Okwerdz it got awkward
You started to fall from your place
Falling from grace, squeezing in too many battles and they all were a waste
You lost to Nils m/ Skils
I thought, "How is that honestly true?"
But then you flopped at Don't Flop to Youthoracle too
Meanwhile I was filling up my graveyard with the wickest flow
Way too many corpses, eight wins in a row
Which got me a battle with Conceited and probably made him very mad
Cause that's a bigger opponent than little Rone has ever had
Which brings us to this moment
We're on the same stage
But fast forward a year, we won't be on the same page
We'll cross paths now and I'll keep rising while you're falling
And you'll keep trying for that shine but we're still finding that you're boring
And in a couple years I'll be loving the game
Probably covered in chains living up in the fame
While you'll be stuck in the same lane with nothing to gain
(Fuck this microphone)
200 Miles From Philadelphia busing for change

It would've worked a lot better if the coins would've come out of my pocket, but that's the shit. Fuck you Rone. Time

[Round 3: Rone]
Bro, you are very weirdly confident
I just don't understand it
Like you're not some other shithead idiot that's roaming around this planet
I hate you optimistic assholes
A lot of you really suck
It's like you don't realize that you're on the same Earth as us and we're entirely fucked
I mean this asshole is so optimistic that at his last doctor visit
They gave him a 1% chance of living and he was fucking awesome with it
I mean, he copped his engagement ring before he even started to talk to women
And he spend his lottery winnings before he even bought a ticket
I mean, you could come home to your house and find robbers around
And you wouldn't even bother fucking talking them down
You have your hand around his shoulder as you're walking him out
Cause you just assume the crooks are fucking lost in your house
I mean, you could find your girl getting fucked in your own house, in your own basement
You'd be all calm like, "Well there's probably a logical explanation"
I mean, honestly dawg, I came to your spot
And I'm really fucking, going off dawg
Like I'm in your city and they already got Phillies on the wall dawg
But you know I have to kill you man with a couple fucking rhymes
If we ever heard your album it's nothing that we'd ever hurry up and buy
You know what I'm saying?
I mean, right now, I could calm down right before I get wild
And if you wanna be a kid so bad, well, I'll have to talk to him like a child
So you wanna hang out with the rest of us?
And be one of the big rappers?
You wanna become friends with us?
Maybe gets some drinks after?
Well maybe if you want the world to give you what you want
You should try writing something (fucking microphone) original for once
I mean, The Kid can't fucking see me
That's a fucking porn film
I put The Kid to sleep
That's fucking cookies and warm milk
And if that shit doesn't work like I thought that it might
I'll put some rum in his water bottle and we can call it a night
And if I hear crickets, well dawg I still won't lose
The Kid will get killed from a head shot; that's Phillip Hughes
That's time baby