[Round 1 - Iron Solomon]
I ain't gon' rap 'bout your background or origin
Cause I don't have to rap 'bout the band now to score a win
And I ain't gon' put Diddy in my lines to chalk him out...
Who the fuck am I kidding, that's all I'm gonna talk about!
That MTV show we all thought was a sham
But your no-name wack rappers were the fraudulent scam
Only kept you on the show cause you fought with your hands
Couldn't make one single good song with your fam
And Puff got the nerve to call you a band?
Your shit flopped, you get dropped, you call him your man!?
You quit rap to pitch crack, you call that a plan!?
I've seen the piff bags this kid has, you call that a gram!?
So now he wants to face the greatest, trying to get a million views in
But even if he win tonight, the kid'll still be losing
Puff a paper gangster and I bet he really screwed him
Whatever dough he make tonight, Diddy's still recouping
See, for you, signing with Puff, was like getting fucked by Lexington Steele
But Ness Lee still squealed like "Thanks Puff, that's one heck of a deal!"
Singing "Do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do"
But you owe Diddy 'til Diddy's done dicking you
So now he begging Puff for a second chance at the game
"I'll learn to sing, I'll dance in the rain, at least put me in Danity Kane!"
Then he make a blog complaining and bitching about different shit
Begging Puff for his walking papers but Diddy won't let him dip
So now he's back to claiming Bad Boy and swinging from Diddy's dick
Just to come to battle this sucker had to get a permission slip
See Ness walk to Brooklyn, see Ness walk home
See Ness braid Sean's hair and fetch Sean's combs
See Ness' ashy kneecaps and scuffed-up calves
From kneeling down, blowing smoke up Puff's ass
See, Ness makes music that's blunt guts trash
So when he played his two hits for Puff, Puff passed
So now your whole life is a big fat mess
Dropping mixtapes that couldn't have an impact less
Getting food stamps mailed to your chick's address
Still sad cause you failed on them gym class tests
You a tax write-off, Puffy gets that check
Then spends your advance on a big black Lex'
Get a fitted hat next, that look Tic-Tac fresh
To match his Sean John shirt that says "No Bitch Ass Ness"
So he googled "nerdy white battle rapper", thinking he got my number
Not knowing he'd been watching Soul Khan all summer
No one's scared of you, Vanessa, it's not no Wonder
You about as real as Robert Downey, in Tropic Thunder
You silly big willy, you faker than Milli Vanilli
You don't really think you a killer, do you, Magilla Gorilla?
See, this Jew could face off with Adolf and still not take a loss
So, I don't need to let the eight spark to outline him in gray chalk
I hope you came equipped with a plate and fork
'Cause what I'm delivering is straight talk
I usually drive to Junior's, but this shit is a cakewalk.
[Round 1 - E. Ness]
I told myself if he said one word about my fight with Fred
I'd stick a fuckin' Rambo knife in his head, yeah
Cause ain't no way this cracker getting this bread
I'mma long-dick and drop-kick his bitch out the bed, yeah
So it's me against the great white hype
With bright lights on South Beach, that's fight night
This time y'all better have my fucking mic right
Cause when I kick a fucking hole through his chest it's night-night
So what your life like?
Cause for the right price, I'mma do him like Suge did Vanilla Ice-Ice
Let him go, fuck it you never know
Cause when you skip town, I'm still around, I'm letter O
I'll call dap and doe like it's John McEnroe
I'm about to serve his ass back to the white rapping show
You've been cruising for the bruising, I've come to this conclusion
You picked me out to be the one to give you this contusion
This is not an illusion, so there's no confusion
Fuck you, your man and the entire movement
Fuck it, the day you was born, let's get to it
You was hoping the airplane crashed that I flew in
So you wouldn't have to face me, but after this they gon' hate me
For baking imitation Slim Shady
Solomon, how many swords you've been swallowing?
Let me find out it's my name you've been hollerin'
Cut off his oxygen, Sugar Ray Robinson, I'm Allen Iverson
Cross him out his Wally Moccasin
Keep your fucking mouth shut, I'll shoot your mama house up
And gangbang that bitch cause I know she don't get out much
The battle shit is ours
And you know the loudest one in the room gon' be the coward
Pushin' up flowers, pullin' on sour
'Bout smack this little Backstreet Boy from out his trousers
Wowser, while they give me Doogie Howser
I'mma let the uzi holla at his medulla oblongata
Tell Andy Milonakis I'm shootin' in his pockets
Like I'm shooting for the rockets
Put two up in his noggin, he knew I was a problem
But fuck he ain't train hard
You so fuckin' wack I don't have to play the race card
To keep it real you wasn't even on my radar
When it's all known the only way you'll perform is at the gay bar
I'll be at the car lot, shittin' on this mallcop
When time share, I'll be at Time Square when the ball drops
You had your run son but this is where it all stops
I ain't wastin' no time, I know a soft spot
I'll chop your fat ass up into tupperware
And walk the streets of New York like I don't fucking care
I got the hawk and the revolver like a buccaneer
I'll get to cuttin' n***as up in here like a musketeer
See, you lame fucks always say the same stuff
It never change up, think it's a game 'til them thangs bust
Just like when Mayweather fucked Sugar Shane up
Except you get the same exact feeling from a cocaine rush
Fall back, he ain't all that
Before his face run smack into my baseball bat
I'll have him leaking out his baseball cap
With more skids than a race car track
The only time he travel is when he go to battle
Over 99 percent of the time, he's playing Scrabble
But if I see you up in Philly I ain't woppin' at you
I just say "Look, there go the worm from the rotten apple."
Yeah I got that cheesecake, let the desert eag quake
Clap until his knees break, like I won a sweepstakes
Got Philly chopped like it's all about a cheesesteak
But just one week in them streets will make you see straight
Ain't no fuckin' hold on, stay and get stole on
And get your fuckin' roll on and so fourth and so fourth
Push your fuckin' top back, T-Pain hot pack
Bitch I want my spot back, ain't nothing that could stop that
[Round 2 - Iron Solomon]
I feel like I'm at the gym and there's this little kid that I'm boxing with
Who's about to piss his pants to get a chance to mix up mittens with Solomon
And I'm holding back cause I know the fact this one good hit'll demolish him
I even let him win a little to give the kid a good sense of accomplishment
Like "Good job Elliot, you really did good shit!"
When really I'm thinking "Your breath smells like Big Foot's dick."
And as far as me getting fat, you know the reason I'm gaining weight?
Cause my hunger's doing what these other loser's training ain't
And your slut, she just gave me brain
And her mug looks like a baby ape
So this gut was my saving grace cause it covered her crazy face
So you damn fuckin' right I stay fatter than the next dude
And I'mma keep eating rappers, it don't matter what the venue
If it's beef that you after, I'll add it to the menu
But Ness, you a snack I'll take a nap and then digest you
See Jin was my appetizer, now I'm eating my next course
But people keep asking what am I competing with Ness for
I say "It's easy to lap this guy, so to me this is just sport."
And your career on tracks has died so I'm beating a dead horse
E Ness, you seem stressed, your career has regressed
You washed up and depressed, you need to press reset
You drink beer and chief cess, you pop pills and eat X
Boppin' your CD Ness, what we press is eject
From whores giving him free sex, on tour living in freakfests
Now you're living in p-jects, P.Os giving him pee tests
From just getting your feet wet, to dry snitchin' to detects
Like Jigga man Jay-Z said "You're living with some regrets."
Bad Boy destroyed your career, G Dep
Now you surround yourself with queers, Key West
Someone convinced you to battle here, Drect
By putting funny little things inside your ear, T-Rex
I know your people warned you Ness "Whitey's ill Och, beware."
But I'm going easy on you Ness, you mine as well not be scared
Plus I'm gonna win either way Ness, you mine as well not prepare
They just wanna see me anyway Ness, you mine as well not be there
See this kid is an illusion to me, but on the internet he's googling me
Take your Blackberry out bitch, twitter that you're losing to me
Cause they're saying you're standing there for nothing was just wrong
Cause I guess Michael Jordan always needs someone to dunk on
And if I ain't the Jordan of the shit, there's no one that's closer
So I'll just go like this, and you go like this, and pose for the poster
But if you was LeBron James, then I'd be Dwayne Wade
We both graduated at the same time from the same grade
He was at the head of the class, on TV with celebrity acts
But that champion ring was one thing you never could grasp
I was slightly rated lower, had to fight to gain exposure
And that might have made me slower but now I have taken over
And I'm down in Miami's Heat, living my boyhood dreams
And for you done what I've done, you'd have to join my team
You a pissed off pipsqueak floating up shit's creek
The goals that you've had for your life, I reached this week
See, my career's beginning to grow, yours beginning on it's decline
In here I sit on the throne, you sittin' on the bidet
Because you ain't stackin' no more paper, your crap just got flushed
You ain't droppin' no new shit, your ass is washed up
[Round 2 - E. Ness]
From Philly, Pistolvania, to live at Grizzlemania
With a bag full of dust I bought all the way from Cambria
From 5th street, hotter than fish grease
So you fuck with D.M.C. who dick you on this week?
More powerful than Soloman, stronger than King Sampson
He got a following, fuck it I wouldn't chance it
I cut the music back up, I kept jammin'
Like I ain't hear him talking 'bout money, them n***as scrambling
I got word when I was in the spot gambling
How they hype his white ass up like he the champion
But what you really lookin' for is a companion
Somebody he can show how to fish and go camping
I can write out swiggly, slow jam 'em
Catch him with the right hand and reprogram him
To beat me, you gotta worship the Devil
I mean really know that n***a on a personal level
You can call me Magneto, how I work with the metal
We can settle out of court, pitchfork and a shovel
They told me $2,500, I said nah I ain't want it
But fuck it, I'll fly down just to punch him in the stomach
Push a couple buttons, keep the money comin'
I ain't chasin' youngin round, that n***a 100 miles and runnin'
You get it? That n***a Young Miles scared
For the fact that I'm a fuckin' werewolf out here
And I'm chewin' silver bullets, I advise you not to pull it
Now them funny punchlines ain't gon' work here, will it?
Kap I warned y'all, why you bring this cornball?
All way down Miami just to get his head torn off
I know you really want to call me a n***a
But you won't cause if you do it'd be a one-hitter quitter
Go and speak that bullshit on Twitter
I'mma ball you up and roll you in the Schuylkill River
Fuck he think he John Wayne? N***a it's LeBron James
And times changed, I'm playing with the Heat and that's the mindframe
And I'm smoking haze, county called Dade with Dwayne Wade
I don't think we on the same page
So I'm teaching you a lesson, this a 2-11
So I'm shooting in the direction of your little rooting section
It's sad but it's true, you mad cause you poo
Me losing to this Jew'll be the last thing I do
It's the scab on the sore, the ass on the horse
All you do is talk shit and peel off when it's war
It's big shit, Terminator part 4
Bullets through his car door, fold him like cardboard
You wanna get hardcore? But you a sophomore
I'll pull out the deuce-deuce, Hit 'em with a hard four
For dickeating every rapper in sight
This the 40-year old virgin looking back at his life
Trying to gamble when you lost, now he passing the dice
But you can add a couple more hickeys after tonight
Don't talk about me getting choked out
That'll get you mowed out
Found with dick up in your mouth up in the dope house

[Round 3 - Iron Solomon]
So it wasn't Drect, it was Kap that was the Grind Time boss that was calling you
$2,500? That's all that they offered you?
If Tyler Perry produced Shrek, they'd probably cast you, Ness
'Cause you look like a fat Ninja Turtle with two necks
You like a cross between RuPaul, and a cue ball
So they take sticks to his face the second he steps in a pool hall
See, you acting bigger, but this action figure's too small
What I'm flipping gonna kick him into a box like foosball
Far as gangsters, you the biggest bitch of the century
This ain't even my verse, I'm just reading the words to his Wikipedia entry
It also said, you work at 7/11, at age 9 had sex with your reverend
And Lloyd Mathis was born in 1977
You were a 70's baby? And you 33 now?
You know where real rappers' careers should be when they're 33? Wow!
When Nas was 33, he premiered "Hip-Hop Is Dead"
Now Ness is 33, his career in hip-hop is dead
When Jay was 33, Hov worked to build the Blueprints
When Em was 33, he'd sold 30 million units
And Biggie Smalls' status as a legend's quite clear
And when he was 33, he'd been dead for 9 years
And in 33 A.D., Jesus and Judas died
So in his 33rd year, E. Ness gets crucified
So now you can finally see through Jesus' eyes
How to be on the losing side of getting beat by a Jewish guy
Now y'all tell me which one would seem like a huge surprise?
Seeing a genius get stupefied or watching this geezer get euthanized
See I should whip yo' ass worse, but this geezer back hurt
So, since I'm in my prime, and you've peaked and passed yours
I'mma do some old-school shit, how MCs of past worked
And I'mma need the crowd's help, y'all repeat my last words
See, E. Ness got signed to Bad Boy by Diddy (Diddy)
But he don't make that real hip-hop like Biggie (Biggie)
So his whole rap catalog amounts to failure (Failure)
Y'all think I'm winning this battle right now say "Hell yeah!" (Hell yeah)
You know that feeling deep down inside while I spit my quotes?
Like you're the only one on the outside, of an inside joke?
That's cause this my throne, nah, this my home
I got mini-mes who would slaughter you, you couldn't diss my clones
I know some spitting pythons who be getting they rhyme on
Way better than E. Ness, my list is six guys long
The six men who recite songs better than you is Mysonne
And the top five are Dylon, Dylon, Dylon, Dylon, and Dylon
Battling me in Grind Time dawg is like facing Neo in Zion
I'm like some brand new linoleum, a fresh can of krylon
I'm them two turntables young Primo had his eye on
I'm the first time anyone turned Rakim's mic on
And as far as up-and-comers, I've followed them all
And honestly dawg you'd get abolished by Hollow Da Don
You couldn't trade words with Aye Verb, Okwerdz or Passwurdz
You'd get defeated from Concieted, demolished by Dizaster
(Even though he's a bitch)
You ain't nice as Madness, that's why you mad Ness
Compared to Arsonal, you horrible, don't try to match wits
And that don't even get to include Clips, Math
Nocando, X-Fact, Thesaurus to Illmac
Loaded Lux, I add the total up and you dead last
Right after Jae Millz, and MOOK's bitch ass, easy!

[Round 3 - E. Ness]
They like "Your majesty, we need another strategy
We duplicate his style then try to mix it in with Cassidy's"
They got the nerve to think the shit gon' work actually
Catastrophe, now his whole career is a tragedy
I'm stuck with what I'm stuck with, cause I don't suck dick
Still write Puff shit, but I ain't with the fuck shit
And motherfuck an album, my name still good
I still walk around the hood with my chains like I should
It's Slingshot, I wouldn't change if I could
Representing me unit with my name on the wood
You could team up with Okwerdz, Dirtbag, and Soul Khan
You still wouldn't blow with an Eminem co-sign
I cop a squat and take shit on your goal line
You wake up from a coma and walk straight into a clothesline
Took 8 weeks just to write that trash?
Rip the pages out your notebook and wipe my ass
Smear the shit all in your face and say "You like that grass?"
Chain swinging like Pacquiao, and it's lightening fast
Y'all ashamed of y'all real name
Cause that's why y'all n***as real lame
Cause all you do is dick-eat, bag-bite and steal game
But you can take your best shot cause I don't feel pain
We gon' still be in southern California, it's gon' still rain
Hit 'em with the kill-shot, way up on the hilltop
You ain't been on fire for awhile and I'm still hot
Nah, I don't deal rocks, I be in the chill spot
With highs so my lil' n***as suave when it still pop
This what you laughin' for? This what you askin' for?
The .44 turn Drew Carrey to Drew Barrymore
Sharp as a thumbtack, kick him in the nutsack
And use it as a flap to keep the dust out his butt-crack
You think it's all gun talk? Think it's all birds?
Think it's all metaphors? Think it's all words?
Two major record deals, workin' on my third
I got a 9th wonder catalog that n***as ain't ever heard
This faggot wear glasses, so fuck the scare tactics
Y'all lookin' at the next contestant on Fear Factor
So from this point on, and here after
He should be B.F.Fs with the StairMaster
It's been awhile since I got in the gym, calisthenics
See how much fat I could trim
Got your back against the wall, I got my back to the wind
He gained 700 pounds, I'm still fatter than him
My bitches wouldn't look at you, probably throw a hook or two
When god made weirdos, he threw the fuckin' book at you
I know your folk back home, they was pushin' you
But deep down inside you know I end up cookin' you
Now pick another route cause you never had clout
And while we're on the subject let's talk about his spouse
I'll fuck her in mouth, fuck her in the house
I'm skeeting on the living room, bustin' on the couch
I'm the one she fuckin' when she says she's goin' out
We even got this sex tape you don't know about
It go right stroke, left stroke
East coast, fresh coast
The bitch suck me off so long she got strep throat
Ay yo I'm super disrespectful
This .38 special put this chump underwater and his daughter in a pretzel
N***as in my city wanna see me take an L
Cause they can't fuck with me, they just want to see me fail
They jealous of me cause they should've never fell
In the gristle while we flippin' nickles in the wishing well
And tell that chump Passwurdz, I'mma have the last words
I dot I's and cross T's, Jamal Mashburn