[Round 1: Tantrum]
I seen one of your battles, you're garbage and shit
You distracted Kaliente and fucked up part of his script
Then forgot your lines twice, well Hindu karma's a bitch
And since your match with Prodigal Son's not online, probably coulda sucked
Actually I heard you choked so hard like a pussy fuck Organik never bothered to put it up
That's right bitch, we'll get you questioning this shit
Tryna guess who coulda sent me all these tips
Let's just say for the head of the Montreal division you ain't as respected as you think
So let's just focus on your own self and your so many silly gimmicks
Like how the fuck are you a dope emcee while stealing Joe Pesci's spitting image?
You think you Tommy DeVito, throwing blows, serving a broken nose
When all we see is Harry, the burglar from Home Alone
When you get to your pad, that's when you stop tryna think you're Italian
'Cause your parents would give you a slap for concealing your immigrant accent
So quit fronting like you didn't think you were the shit in the past ho
Back when Jigga and Nas were spitting to Indian samples
You were walking around like "This singer is rad bro"
We know I pick apart haikus
I been in ninja star fights too
You need to stop denying your roots like "Who needs the Kwik-E Mart food?" "I doooooo!"

[Round 1: Loe Pesci]
Taiwan manufactured all this Transformer's car parts
If you ditch the white T and Carhartts you'll probably morph into a smart car
I'll more than stab you, arrowheads poison Adam's apples
I'll treat you like Hollow's wife beater, I slit your neck before the battle
I kick you in the throat you'll sound like Ceelo Green
With his vocal chords slit like the D.O.C
You got fake Jordans by the pound, bootleg DVDs
Cup of Noodle by the gallon, this round belongs to me
You flipping keys? You kill emcees? Ninja please
I punch a mic around until my iron fist asleep
I hit your cheeky mother, I called her Mrs. Muffler
And when I split the rubber I swear it's when I titty-fucked her
But nine months later a brown Asian kid discovered
Now she calling me 9th Wonder, 'cause I produced ya' little brother
Men are giving birth, now that is confusing
Tantrum says he's gon' be a dad, that faggot is using
Nah he's high on life, he's having illusions
[Round 2: Tantrum]
I'm so vexed from every guy having sets of prejudiced lines
But guess who I get to take it out on? The guy whose race is less respected than mine
When you scream "Vietcong!", folks are like, that's in the past
But when I scream "Al-Qaeda!" we see fifty cats lynch your ass for the location of your missile stash
It don't matter if you're Indian or Middle Eastern
To us you're the missing link and inbetweener
'Cause either way you'll be called a terrorist after any little misdemeanor
This battle's supposed to be picture-perfect, really worth the big excitement
That's why they chose to see the Prince of Persia, getting merc'ed by Ninja Gaiden
But wait, this dude ain't Persian
What are you, Hussein's virgin?
I was supposed to battle Rugged, not the bootleg version
What kind of fuck-brain starts to parade the streets in anger screaming
Just 'cause he saw, a lady reading?
And y'all think my people are crazy heathens
One morning I went to my Tai Chi bar conditioning class
When I saw this bitch on some awkward shit, doing the Dhalsim victory dance
Pesci was really proud his mode of transportation's the quickest shit around
Till him and his magic carpet got left in the dust of my nimbus cloud
So stop it kid, 'cause all the shit you talk has pissed me off
Next time I get a prank call from Kerpal, I'ma karate kick his dog
And then toss it in a wok

[Round 2: Loe Pesci]
Watch me Shang Tsung into Reverse Live and get dumb
I stomp you in ya' own turf, ya' fortune's in the breadcrumbs
Get me a Bloody Appleton stat, this is a red rum
Grind Time Union City, set it up, you can be the fucking prez
But no skinny wristbands allowed, all right dumpling-head?
You can call me steamed rice and flavored soya sauce
I'm your favorite underdog, I'm not over
To you Dogtown ain't West Oakland
It's a small mall in heaven, that there's only pet stores in
He'd get locked up, just to hang with some black prisoners
His excuse, he wants an autograph from Mac Minister
So accuse him of tryna have gay sex, he'll say "I just wanna meet the dude who avenged Mac Dre's death"
He thinks role playing is too fresh
He always at Tourette's
He won that shit like eight times, but how hard is hosting group sex?
Wasn't Jamie DeWolf wearing a spandex bumblebee costume when you lost to him?
And rap is your profession
I heard someone nearly lost to a Jellied Donut, I thought it was Madness for a second
I done came with my short temper, I throw Tantrum in a second
And if I read about a dead monk that rose from his tomb, in the Oakland Tribune
I'll be at Battle of L.A. to reopen his wounds
[Round 3: Tantrum]
We all about professionalism
So why would you get in my grill tryna flex in the building acting like you fuck with beef like it's not against your religion
You don't wanna get hostile with my ninjas
You'd get stomped in a martial arts brawl like it's a business
Before we leave you hogtied and rob rice from your kitchen
You're all hype to begin with
Your people are known for all the times you lost fights with the British
Till you pussies, had to resort to non-violent resistance
He's looking at the U.K. rappers like they're dangerous and evil
Wants to start scolding Eurgh like "You're a traitor to our people!"
Your top figures in politics wasn't honored for their work
That's why 'Gandhi's been adopted as a derogatory word
We got the hugest populace you cocky loser
I mean y'all are catching up but we did it without the help of the fucking Kamasutra
So how's your love guru respected in the slightest?
You nerdy faggots can't even give pleasures to vaginas without turning sex into a science
And to top it off, we cop metals, you're weak in sports
Our top 'tenders, exceed your scores
And just to throw it in, we got better, convenience stores!

[Round 3: Loe Pesci]
I know y'all expect me to call him the yellow Eminem
Say his dick could fit in a Coke bottle and Jin is his role model
Instead I'll go on some 'pone shit: Peter picked a patch of pickled peppers
Meanwhile, Tantrum picked Peter's playbook, his penmanship, his patterns and his presence
Plagiarized and practiced till he passes as the freshest
See you came up emulating the biggest battle rapping legends
But when you and Illusion Z were planning for your wedding
Why the Grind Time nicknames, come on, the Illmaculate Reception?
I know you don't drink but here's a bottle of Jim Beam
Bet he drown himself when I remind him he's not on the Swim Team
It's 'cause you spit like your man Pete
But you claim you been flipping the same steez since Keak in [?] Sneak, EA [?] Ski
Check your voicemail, there's a message you ain't see
Peter called, he really wants his blueprint back and he ain't lend you no Jay Z
I'm something that you'll never be
You study The Saurus like Grind Time is running a motherfucking spelling bee
You real-wait, wait Dizaster, you real cheesy biting all day from that dude
I trapped the yellow rat for that Monterey jack move
[Round 4: Loe Pesci]
Keep it a hundred, your pansy ass threatened
Say rest in peace to your dreams, like the Cali graf legend
My nines is fitteds, one blade that run 'round
59-50, custom made for Kung Lao
So get low, no need to get Loe's lyrics
Hats off, if I toss Expos fitteds
It's like paying for intercourse, the head go with it
Your bitch bored to death of your egg roll diddick
So I dug her back out, and I ain't necrophilic
Trust me, you ain't even try dog
If she ain't eating my rod, she's leading guys on like a seeing-eye dog
She said "Fuck it, fire at will, you can even snipe him like Vietcong"
She'll even rub the fresh prints off, like Nia Long
King of the red dot, heat things up
So pop up and get roasted, if you peaking duck
Y'all Ninjas With Attitudes got shurikens and splashers too?
Well aim freely, dodge and weave 'em, ain't reached me
It's almost cheating how I'm ducking under cartridges like Game Genie
You ain't Liu Kang, you spend your life as a bitch
Even in Thailand that operation was pricey as shit
You kick better, by a high measure, we all recognize Sonya Blade's bicycle kick

[Round 4: Tantrum]
I thought I was cheap for selling salvaged Nikes and smaller jacket sizes
But for you, spending cash is like a family crisis
You're the only fucks who walk into my dollar store to haggle prices
I'm sick of your shit, with the trifling habits y'all can have
I should do the world a favor and use my giant family to wipe you faggots off the map
I'll get my brother Dumbfoundead to test a nuke on your homies like field mice
Make your suicide bombers look like a bunch of phonies in real life
Then my half-bro EK will fly a fleet plane right over the hillside
And crash into one of your tallest buildings just so you know what it feels like
And, I'll get Uncle Fredo and Cousin Swarm to run you over with the Civic's pimped
Hell, even my pops [?] will hit this bitch with our Kendo Stick
That's when I jump inside the brawl to finish this faggot
Slice your jaw with the iron claw from Into the Dragon
Choke your neck before, I stretch your core
Your whole intestines pour and they wet the floor
Then I'll make your faggot-ass yoga teleport to heaven's door
So keep your yapping shut
I'll dash and jump and smash the gums inside your mouth
Like "This is for DNA," then I'll drag and punch your mic around
How the fuck are you walking tall like we wouldn't body y'all?
I'll take the bricks from our Great Wall
And toss 'em all at your Taj Mahal