[Round 1: King Jables]
I was at the crib, discussin' Reez', just debatin'
My young reckless homie said "I'mma leave just to bake him."
That street justice
I told him, "Be fuckin' patient."
I said, "If Ree' sus, he gon' need resuscitation."
So keep fuckin' playin' like Mitchell wit' the shit
I'll 'Let It Go', he Frozen watchin' his princess get a clip
Aye, but first, let me tell you more about this pistol that I grip
Reezy...nah, Weezy
(*chk-chk*) It clicks and then it spits!
Or I could hit you from a cliff!
Fuckin' bury him, too
You fishy little bitch, I got the aerial (Ariel) view
And it's an operating table they preparin' for dude
If you fail to deliver, Reez' (deliveries), wе Caesarean you
Usually I love this shit, you got mе barely amused
So I'mma rock you until you all type of various blues
No Country For Old Men, I'm airin' the tool
This AR on my-
Nah, the mill'll tear Reez' (militaries) in two!
I'm very confused! Am I alone!?
You dyin', homes!
They said, "URL givin' plates out!" and I got Styrofoam!?
I buy a chrome!
He be in a box with his whore beside him
One casket, Reez' in (reason) wit' this bitch like, "Shorty wildin'."
He be rappin' 'bout forest drivin'
I'm more, uh, violent
Rearrangin' body parts at the morgue and vibin': reorganizin'
Aye, the cops show up? They finna say what he needs is Jesus
'Cause I chopped him up
All they findin' of Reez' is (Reese's) Pieces
You not as tough as you like to think, so stop the stuff
'Fore I'll take you to a cliff like, "I'll drop you!" - it's not a bluff!
Too much of his skin was missin'! He don't got enough!
J's perfect, in mint condition, you ain't gon' spot a scuff
I could throw a dagger from long-range, the shot was clutch
You ain't gon' smoke shit
Tryna roll up, but forgot the dutch
The list of shit that you good for just says "Not for much"
You pussy, so it's over, Reez' (ovaries)
You don't got the guts!
You gon' bleed, pimpin'!
It's 'bout to be victims risin'
I get creative with it, the King's improvisin'
They gon' make sure your tux fit wit' the pieces they findin'
They gon' put him back together and have Ree' sent to sizing (resynthesizing)
And that's King shit, man
[Round 1: Reezy]
My last battle was against a n***a named King Curtis
Shout out to bro
Now they gave me someone named...King Gables
And he think he got a crown
Why they keep throwin' me all these kings?
Guess I just make the right moves...to knock you n***as down
I'm straight to it
This my mission
You finna die in it
This guy's finished
Extendo on my left, extendo on my right
Came prepared wit' two 30's (2:30) like our time limit
Am I trippin', or is King Jables' real name James Bally?
Geek name
Keep playin'
I bet if the heat bang, I'll make this man book, on God, for thinkin' you a King, James
And you? You just in the way, that's no lie
Thinking you gettin' the 10K? You so blind
Even Smack like "You ain't gettin' a 10, shon. (attention)"
Won't even pay you no mind
But stay on yo' grind, 'cause we in a pandemic
Yeah, the world got that VID involved
And I hope no one get that shit at all
But the docs did say I got one symptom, y'all
Somethin' 'bout a AK-47- the Kalashni-cough (Kalashnikov)
This n***a soft...but he made it to the Crucible
But I don't believe his skill
And he faced a lot of top opps, but who gon' be the one to leave him peeled?
Reezy will
And if you a fan of The Walking Dead
You know that when I black on King, easy kill (Ezekiel)
So piss me off, and you gon' leave in a hearse
Sleepin' in dirt
N***as gon' be rockin' Jey The Nitewing clothing line
'Cause if I get mad, King (MadKing) on a shirt
But it get worse
The other day, a lil' homie said he ready to put in work wit' a pistol
I said, "Alright, but when we pull up to that block, every person gon' get it."
Bet I murk wit' the quickness
So when I give you this cal', pull (scalpel)...it be surgical wit' it
Man, this n***a is lame
He really sat in a barber's chair...and said, "Gimme some bangs."
What cloth he cut from, a napkin?
Man, your whole life bull
I'll load mine full
So test me, I'll blow my tool
You know that embarrassing moment in public when you try to go through the door the wrong way?
You know I'm not the one to push if you know I pull
N***a, I stay...wildin'
Ironic how I attach the muzzle and leave this n***a wit' the bang silent
N***a, this stage...mine, bitch
Rhyme, bitch
[Round 2: King Jables]
Aye, let's be honest, it's different levels
And you ain't valid, Reez'
I need a salary
And you...need a salad, Reez'
His girl can picture us hangin', I hit the gal of Reez' (galleries)
And just to add to the body, I'll lift the cal' at Reez' (calories)
Yeah, the cal'll rise
Y'all heard of shower beers? He eats shower fries
Not your average type, he can't even find a towel his size (italicize)
He's down to ride
Drive-by, no alibis
Only time you down to ride is to the drive-through for more shower fries!
I'm lyin' though? This shit is easy to prove
Give a fuck what a doctor say, in the streets, he a goon
Think diabetes is a myth, believes he immune
But soon it's gon' sound like you tryna breathe through a tube
The grease he consume gon' lead to his doom
Let the butter fly, wrap it in a cheesy cocoon
He eats in his room from evenin' to noon
So it's not that actress if y'all see Reez' with the spoon (Reese Witherspoon)
You fat bitch!
Cholesterol's beatin' his ass quick
Now they got you on the blood pressure watchin' you're at-risk
Ruben Studdard think he smooth as butter
But all those fried SPAM sandwiches are not the reason you ain't losin' blubber
Look at his past and you'd discover an abusive mother
She kept his snacks padlocked in an exclusive cupboard!
Think on it, just ruminate
He went to his room and ate a sandwich that Scooby-Doo would make
That don't mean you movin' weight, you fuckin' sack of human waste!
He ripped his mother's pussy at birth, and that's when she knew you were a huge mistake
They like, "Damn! Why he barkin' on Reezy for?"
An easy score
They'll send a letter whenever your body reach the morgue
His family tryna contact him through a Ouija board
And all this fat motherfucker spell out is "FEED ME MORE"
Aye, the trouble wit' dude, and his struggle with food
He gets weakened (Weeknd) at McDonald's, he be lovin' the crew
I fuck wit' him, too, but clearly not as much as you do
So I'll give him that work and then pick up a W, too (W-2)
I told Lexx, "Whoever's next, watch this coward die."
Ever since he started my round, all he thought about was shower fries
And that's King shit
[Round 2: Reezy]
Damn, I'm really that fat?
Time to hit the gym
I said, yo...
This Round 2, better not let your guard down
I'm the shit with bars, clown
You can't handle this smoke
But fuck coughin' up a lung - you better came to spit your heart out
This finna bury him
So I had to come wit' a shovel, bitch
I run wit' the metal shit
They say that money is the root of all evil?
True...somethin' 'bout these bucks make me devilish
N***a, this n***a is boring, plus the way you rhyme so lame
Times have changed!
So why you rap like this the Grind Time days!?
I gotta say...the way you spit your heat wrong
And I don't hear no instrumental, but keep on
And I'mma dump your body off the side of the Freeway
Since you rap like we put a beat on
And he the type to leave all kind of evidence on the scene
Now does that type of thing make sense?
Even on a gun, you ain't s'posed to leave no hints
This n***a a deadbeat dad, 'cause King left prints (Prince)
Now peep-peep, heat geek
He gutta? He from the hood?
Nah, I don't believe wit' heat...
I don't believe what he speak
An MLK sign is the only time I seen that King Street
He weak
Now guess my favorite heat
He think it's the .9, the .40, or the MAC sprayin'
No, that's my last favorite
(*chk-chk*) N***a, this pump my shit: sound like A-Wax at the gas station
Speaking of gas stations, everybody know that's where you clock in, sir
Send my shooter to your job like, "He usually in the backroom doin' a lot of work.
So just shoot his whole building up so you know he popped for sure.
Don't pull a Lil Wayne and Bobby V.
Just means when you let it sing, don't miss his office, sir (Mrs. Officer)."
He too stealthy wit' it
You won't hear the AR bust
We silencer all of our guns
He get hit, all you hear is, "Aaggh!"
Sound like B.A. from Get Ya Bars Up
It wasn't hard tryna find a shooter to get him
I got a whole block team
Couldn't decide for my n***a wit' the Glock beam or the n***a wit' the mop thing
I said, "Fuck it - I'mma just send my n***a wit' the Ray, then."
And that's the one who shot King
Now you be all on iBattle gettin' no checks
And I fuck wit' that league and Luthor, but don't flex
A whole mess
Call yo' self a King when I'm gon' be the one to leave wit' the crown on - watch
Time for this n***a to roll, Lexx (Rolex)
Now wit' this stick, I could load up to 30
These rounds is savage
But the revolver, I can only go up to six, like when I count in Spanish
Pull out and blast it
Uno, dos, tres, cuatro, cinco, seis
That's round - this clown's aggy

[Round 3: King Jables]
Aye, he's from Seattle, home of constant rainin' and lots of racists
You'll get your fuckin' head punched off tryna box wit' Jason
These shots you facin' won't lead to intoxication
The clip long as the Space Needle: that's just an observation
I'm a constellation, more than dope
I was born a GOAT
What a queer he is (Aquarius), I'll air Reez' (Aries)
This shit a horror scope (horoscope)
I'll leave yo' (Leo) ass dead like Cancer
The Taurus blow
Or cut him like pie, see he's (Pisces) heartless: a Scorpio
You should leave, brah (Libra)
'Cause I been in the gym and I (Gemini) seen the stars
They been aligned, and my seat's where them been assigned
The kids gon' need a doctor to cap from Seuss
He keep tryna borrow my 2Pac movie, 'cause he don't have the Juice
You're not genuine, you're a trash excuse
All your rounds sound the same
You ain't a factor, Reez' (factories)
You mass-produced, and that's the truth
Ask your crew, they shouldn't be gassin' you
How he gon' win from lyin' (Lion) to dawg (Dogg) as fast as Snoop?
Your style's packaged soup, that's why you ain't finna eat
'Cause you still gotta add somethin' to it to make it complete
I hate when you speak
I'm the son of a gun with a generational leap
Now I'm raisin' the heat, and I'm dumpin' at his crib
Somethin' hit his wig
Left him magnetized, stuck him to the fridge
R.I.P. your views, you bluffin' like you big
Them stats you tore - Reez' (statutories), you ain't fuckin' wit' the kid!
Bitch, I'm the best
I been mentioned in vets' picks
The GOAT had your stock X'd (StockX): I sent you some fresh kicks
He thought the white guy was the kid you could mess wit'
'Til he hit you wit' TECs and bullets rip through your flesh quick
Now surgeons in Jersey tryna stitch him to best fit
But they still gon' put a tag on Mitchel and that's (Mitchell & Ness) it
When they see the King, the heaters sing, then I flee the scene
Make the stage stop
The blade drop, the guillotine
I'll shoot this bitch! His man be like, "Mitchel!"
Spin the block, it's a Roman candlelight vigil!
Cannons, pipes, missiles, bananas might hit you
"O'Doyle rules!": it's goin' down, and your fam' gon' die wit' you
And that's King shit, man

[Round 3: Reezy]
Said it's go-hard season
You facin' a bar demon
I wish you would...start tweakin'
If he play, Jean Grey: it's gon' get Dark, Phoenix
You from the state of Kansas, in the city called Independence
Yeah? Well, lemme know - is they thorough?
They be pitchin' that snow and that girl?
Nah, bet if I let it blow, they'll curl
All I know is if I pull up to Independence, they (Day) gon' see I'm from a whole different world
And I'm not gonna lie
Can't wait to catch him slippin' wit' the Glock on my side
Shots gon' be flyin'
One of his boys was like, "Wait - you ain't plannin' on puttin' him on a tee, are you? (TRU.)"
'Pop Goes My 9'
I'll walk up on him like, "What's crack-a-lackin', n***a?"
No pistol wit' you? Pistol-whip you
I'll crack a lackin' n***a
My mans was like, "Aye, Reez', gimme a name, and I'mma go make him bleed wit' the .9
And I'mma leave him to die.
Just tell me, and I'mma leave his whole personality split."
Said, "Well, I got multiple people in mind."
And I don't know how you play, but when I'm out wit' my chick, I keep a drum in my bitch's bag
So if I need it, I can get it fast
I reach for it when I seen him like, "I'mma get his ass."
And what I pulled out her purse sent (percent) 100
Aye, plus (A+) this n***a passed
And I'm real pissed...they let you battle Real Sikh
Real shit - he had a goodie wit' my n***a Jey
He was on go wit' the homie
I was online lookin' like, "Who Real got next? I know he'll smoke him."
And when I seen that this who they'd let the n***a Sikh (sick) face?
Throw-up emoji
Listen, lil' homie...trust me wit' a .30
It never jam, and when it bust, it don't fire wrong
So in beef, I hold that bitch steady and come (income) with some bucks I can rely on
No-fly zone, so don't come to my block, it's evil
But I will pull up to yours, I will not deceive you
He won't know if I got the deuce, the .9, or if I got the Eagle
But fuck what type of gun it is
'Cause it don't matter what kind of (Wakanda), King gon' make me let it touch all the people
I will not...deceive you
Time