[Round 1: Kodyack]
I guess it's up to Kodyack to explain that you lame bro
But in the land of little bitches I bet they call ya' King Franco
I got an insane flow, and well you just ain't got the propane to flamethrow
And you about as hip hop as a fucking rainbow
That's why I get fresh
Man I ain't seen dude this stressed since Keebler the elf handed him a piss test
And the bitch failed, you spit frail
And you got a pussy so that, makes you a chick male
I rap with respect and yet you doubt my honor
You look like Mega Man, without the armor
Talking about him
Looking like the bitch from Alpha Dog, without shins
And they trap and you say that I'm a fat bitch
And, my watch is bigger than the backpack you associate your rap with
And, maintain that, and I just don't understand ya'
But I'm your boy when you lost your job and we were both like "Fuck Santa"
Spin the world, twist into a-

[Round 1: Franco]
Everything he said was irrelevant, about my devilish skeleton and arrested development
When he looks the anal baby from a Mexican elephant
Grew its double chin when it was crossbred with a pelican
You don't do sex 'cause you're celibate
Fuck this guy, nothing he said was ever intelligent
Your flow is trash, and every ho you ask to go and tax
Kodyack, knows you're wack
Look at homie's back the note attached says he's gross and fat but I coulda told you that, from looking at his photograph
I'm telling you bro, your ass is a mark
Go back to fucking Yellowstone National Park
I don't think the people stare, or if they'll even care
But you're the reason there's a sign that says 'Please don't feed the bears'
All you eat is pears, and I look like Steve Colbert
And you look like you became morbidly obese and shaved your hair
You look like Horatio Sanz, somewhere between and the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man, I spark hella jams
I seen you in the dark and you ran
You got pissed on more times than R. Kelly's fans
[Round 2: Kodyack & Franco]
Alright Franco, I'm getting tired of ya' flow
I'ma bust in my hand and I'ma Spiderman ya' ho
I'm crazy, I bring it grimy
You think you got a big dick 'cause yo' hands is extremely tiny
Fucker, quit the West Oakland ain't been in the hood since
You're hella fucking fat, for a wood nymph
Pink skin and pointed ears on that Elijah Wood tip
Wondering if you could spit
And that's cool let's see what ya' beef bring
But you so short when you take a shit ya' feet swing
Matter of fact, you can't rap with me
There's a telephone book as a stepstool when you have to pee
Tragedy thinking you bad as me
I don't even know why you came to battle see
Fucking, try to match me, come stab me
Little Timothy's just pissed off 'cause I murdered Lassie
And I'm rapping it on
Matter of fact I take that back, it's Calvin with no Hobbes
And I'm attaching with no odds
You're the size of one of my testicles and, that's just kinda odd

[Round 2: Franco]
You wanna manifest those raw bars instead you'll fall hard, the truth is for the west you're not hard
And you'll never guess how large from your chest to those balls are
Ever since you got kicked out the Fresh Coast all-stars
You hung out in Modesto where your friends throw lawn darts
Look at this fucking baboon, he spent so much time in the bathroom
Tryna shit bigger than me, that it turned his fucking ass blue
Some people, say I'm an asshole
Yo, I think you need to get the zookeeper to come, clean out in between this fucker's fat rolls
His shirt says the Black Crows, but I freestyle and you can't rap 'do
You asking me, I trace your whole family tree, and your fucking camp's extinct
So how can it be, that the world's last manatee, is at Grind Time West Coast when he should be chilling on Miami Beach?
This dude is shitty
You think your crew is witty 'cause you're from Union City?
You're a dude with, titties, you should be, the president of the fucking boob committee
I don't think your ass's got nothing left
Ass hunter-ass, your freestyles ain't fucking fresh
[Round 3: Kodyack]
Quit hitting the fat jokes and lay off of my health boy
And leave rapping to presents, elf boy
Man, I'm Kodyack big boy, I'm dwelling in hell's kitchen
And you don't even gain weight 'cause you at KFC just, smelling the chicken
It's fucked up, I'm always hitting my belly
I'll smoke yo' ass like some of that shitty Humboldt, Cali green
Mad at me, and that's cool hit me like on a fucking bitch verse of a manatee
That's cool, Dirty Rat, you more like a fucking, filthy pygmy mouse
And you so pussy next time you battle better bring a bouse- blouse
Shit wrong I ain't tripping
Flip flows like Chris Pond and I ain't scripping
Hit flows I'm gon' hit him, they littler than me
Spit different ill so they ain't skilling with me
And Franco, fuck you, times two, rhyme through
Any motherfucker I come and defy you
And, I spit words and I see pain
And, your shoes remind me of something I would wear on my keychain
And-

[Round 3: Franco]
How do you know so much about my track record, what you need to do is rap fresher
I'd give you a Dirty Rat sweatshirt but we don't have extra extra extra extra extra large you fat heifer
You'll get your fucking ass severed
Yo man, I come back and my flows are fucking that clever
Me come wack never
You're a dumb fucker cum-sucker
I'll take your mom and buttfuck her
Then I'll use your dumb slut as a fucking cum dumpster
Franco doesn't give a shit
My freestyles is ill, and you know I be killing it
The code in the streets, you want it then go get a piece
I smoke little trees, Humboldt to Oakland you see
Roll with the heat and rock like Bo Diddley
Throw guillotines it's killing him so willingly
You flow shittily, I felt ya' show energy
Here's two middle finger fuck you, you're no friend to me
For infinity, this is Franco's soliloquy
You'll remember me, they know, that you're feeling me
'Cause I step up with dope freestyle abilities
Jump in the cipher then I'm moving with agility
You look like Mr. T dipped in bleach tryna hit the Christmas feast, kid I'm here to kill your dreams