[Round 1: Truth Watson]
I say, you gon’ mention guns, drugs, fights
Shit that shoulda stayed in the streets
And talkin’ ‘bout the trap is what you like to say and repeat
But after this, you’ll be takin’ a seat
Dear Lord, please let me have a good next seven days…
I’m here to prey (pray) on the weak (week)
Wit’ two ‘Ks (2K), don’t start beef
I give a fuck if it’s 3-v-3 in the streets - you can’t park me
Bitch, do not take me light! It’s costly!
I’m a real n***a, and I put that on everything like parsley
Berry Moore Jr., you are trash as fuck!
You in the Crucible and Ultimate Madness - it ain’t addin’ up
See, I done had it up to hеre wit’ you
We do not need Moore (morе) - we done had enough!
N***a, everything fake ‘bout him
And since you rep your set so hard, every drop of blood is what I drain out him
I gotta drop Moore (More) Life like a Drake album!
I’m a gun-squeezer!
Greyhound for a road trip: bus(t) heaters
And I know, I be a little skeptical, but I love Nina
N***a, I can count the bitches that I trust on one finger
You can’t fool nothin’
Move, cousin!
Y’all gon’ think of Derrick Rose injuries when the tool dumpin’
‘Cause he on the floor, and they all gon’ be screamin’ “MVP!” when I pull somethin’!
Yeah! Yeah, n***a!
I got it on me - you think I’m scared, n***a?
Y’all remember Trey Songz wit’ the cornrows?
It got a hair-trigger (Trigga)
Oh, I-Oh, I-Oh, I think they like me
No, you will not fight me
Promise you gon’ get holes up in yo’ shirt if you spite me
Big bullets, fly in any weather like a white tee
I’m slide in!
Pistol in my lap and ride in
Everybody askin’ “Who done it?” I did!
This is therapy, I’m helpin’ you see what’s on the inside…of your eyelids!
But he this big Crip and he swear he strapped
‘Til I let a Dezzi clap!
A headshot’ll have blue sittin’ down: now he handicapped
But me!?
I’m just a pimp in recruitment, the MAC (mack) spit
Where is his body geographically? I don’t know
N***a, track it
So whether you got a map, bitch, or follow him on Twitter
You still gon’ have to find him on the atlas (@ list)!
I’m that sick!
The n***a tried to run, haul off
(*chk-chk*) And met a shotgun
Celebrity sighting: sawed-off (saw Dolph)
Or maybe the TEC spittin’ if he set-trippin’
N***a! You wanna know what it’s like to be my next victim!?
Helen Keller tryna tell you somethin’: it’s a death (deaf) sentence
Go next, n***a
[Round 1: MVP]
You made it to the biggest platform in battle rap bein’ corny
Why is you doin’ that?
See, the URL is where the real n***as flourish, and he tryna ruin that
He not believable
Anderson Burrus should be here instead of you
And this what we doin’, Smack?
I mean, what I’m sayin’ right now is not even supposed to be at Truth like Cooper Saxe
Quit playin’ wit’ me!
The n***a had a whole YouTube drop, does nothing with it but goes to RBE
The shit is insanity
The n***a even had Jerusalem behind him like Christianity
Crucible, n***a!
We had to go and find this shit on our own
How the fuck are y’all Survivor Series n***as, but have yet to be on a island on your own?
You are hella an informant
You hella not important
They only know you ‘cause you do a good impersonation of Beas’ (bees)
You a yellowjacket hornet
Do y’all remember when you and your siblings would fuck up somethin’ at the crib, but it wasn’t a snitch in the group?
And then Daddy came downstairs like “I’m finna whip all you mothafuckas until I get to the Truth”
I’m ‘bout to black out!
I brought MACs out, like “Take that route”
You are nothing! Just wasted space…like a frat house!
When my partna died, I changed entirely
Put the wood handle on the tre
That’s bark in the pound like the Humane Society
This n***a gon’ bring up his height!
I felt like that was a cheap move
Talkin’ about “I’m 6’2””
How ironic, n***a…me too
I’m a 5-foot-fuckin’-5 BULLY!
And truthfully, you know what else I specialize in, Truth? FULLIES!
I’m tryna click on a ho roof
A fif’ and a fo’, too
His brains spilled all over his bitch
Now she gotta live in her own Truth!
Mama, I made it!
Even though they don’t know who I am, I figured I’d change it
And I can’t quite put my finger on what makes you a star
How are you the favorite?
I do work
Yo’ bitch ass flipped over my name, so I guess it’s you first
Shotgun shells, kept it a buck wit’ him
N***a, Truth hurt
He ain’t lettin’ it off
I got n***as at home right now that’s bettin’ it all
‘Cause you think everything is a joke
You literally remind me of the Riddler
I question yo’ cloth
Street Status!
[Round 2: Truth Watson]
I know, I know - you keep a K wit’ you
And you do everything that you say you do
Supported by St. Louis - KD, Verb, and those standin’ true
Handin’ your brother a unplugged contro-
Lil’ n***a, I ain’t finna play wit’ you
I’ll put some sh- yeah, I know
I’ll put some shells by his ear, and we ain’t on the beach neither
I keep heaters
I’m talkin’ fast food worker in the parking lot: the Street Sweepers
I’m a Hellraiser, I pin heads to the wall
Lemme show you how this shit work
It disperse
I swear I got a sixth sense
I see dead people, but I gotta get to the fif’ first!
And wave a toolie
If he speak on what he saw, we finna make a movie
I’ll mask up like Freddy and kill anybody adjacent (Jason) to you
Or I’ll take it down a notch if he start wit’ me
Pistol-whip to the white meat (meet) like eHarmony
They were starvin’ me, so I’m relyin’ on my gun if we poppin’ some shit
‘Cause when it come down to a pole (poll), MVP at the top of the list
This ain’t a hood playground, he ain’t slidin’ in the street
I’m a Gandhi escort, talkin’ ridin’ wit’ the piece (peace)
Kill this n***a, D. Wade: he gon’ retire from the Heat!
Keep actin’ like Durk (Dirk) when you post and get your Maverick shot up!
That’s the final, MVP!
Weak n***a!
We slidin’ if he trippin’
Then pistol-whip ‘til his teeth missin’
It take a few bucks to get you shot like cheap liquor
Nah, Latrell Sprewell, Dada shoes
Any time we step, we keep spinnin’
I’mma see, n***a
I’ll leave ‘em all dead
Bury Moore when I spark lead
Try to pull up on My Wife and Kids...Jr. gon’ get a big-ass BaldHead
Y’all scared
He catch a face shot if he pop shit
Bobby Shmurda, burner on the eye, I’m talkin’ hot shit
N***a, you are not Crip
Never mind - this sucka NeighborHood like a thot bitch
Watch this - MAC on me, and I got it in my belt
The 10 will (wheel) bus(t)
They gon’ have to charter you the help
Lil n***a!
URL, what y’all feedin’ him?
I’ll send him to the afterlife
I don’t know what y’all see in him
Kill this n***a
Right there the rock is where I’m leavin’ him
Now your fam’ smell somethin’, start talkin’ through a shirt
N***a, they gon’ have to communicate through a medium!
Good evenin’
[Round 2: MVP]
My cousin Shine hit my line
He said, “Man, it’s a gay n***a in the tournament. Is that the n***a that you battlin’?”
I said, “...Yes”
He said, “You better kill that zesty-ass n***a”
And I bet cuz be flat-out lyin’
So whatever happens tonight, it’s Shine (Shyne) fault like Black Rob dyin’
You need to take that funny shit down to King of the Dot
Or be fightin’ a Smith
You non-rhymin’ bitch
I mean, it’s clear you already had too much Caffeine…
It’s time to Twitch!
I was creepin’ wit’ a weapon, squeezin’ on a Wesson
Y’all wanna hear a Truth Watson bar that he thought was threatenin’?
The bitch said “I’m in everybody crib like the bowl wit’ the spaghetti stains”
Then had the nerve to look around like he was reppin’
N***a, how in the fuck is that possible when you don’t even have the sauce that leave an impression!?
Comfy! In my own skin!
I’m handlin’ the truth
Fentanyl: step on dog like animal abuse!
It’s finna get ugly, n***a
Fuck you and South Carolina
You can’t son me, n***a
We was sellin’ hay wit’ the Cal’ (cow) to keep stable
You just some country n***a
This shit limitless!
Pure penmanship!
You been a bitch!
Run up, and it’ll be like the intro to one of our favorite shows…
“I got in one little fight and my-”
I’ll spin a Smith!
He can’t rap wit’ me!
And what make it worse is I’m a real n***a, actually
Check my background
Look at my past, you’ll find casualty
Assault, battery
I done pulled down on n***as: gravity
Wit’ rounds that keep soundin’ the same
N***a, that’s Cassidy
I’m gang for real!
I was just gon’ beat you the fuck up-

[Truth Watson]
Cap

[MVP]
-but I’d rather just put the snipe on folks
See, my Crips back home told me “Good luck”
And like Soulja Boy glasses…right on (write-on), Locs
I need to know what the fuck is so impressive that you n***as did!
Y’all wanna know why it took me so long to get on SMACK?
I wasn’t finna let Norbes call me “bay-bay” and “boo-bop” like you n***as did
The Unknown Killa!
So in this setting, I’m clearly the best off
Neck shot
His voice box flew out of his ear
Since the n***a love hearin’ hisself talk!
He can’t rap
Let’s go

[Round 3: Truth Watson]
Ugh…Crucible Madness
They called me “Last Chance Larry” without statin’ why
Blaze a guy
He think he stand-up
Well, I’mma act a fool on stage: Larry the Cable G-
Lil’ n***a, who you think you scarin’ in my state?
NFL All-Time QB List
I’ll give his Top 100 airin’ (Aaron) wit’ the .8
I’m finna act a monkey like Caesar in Planet of the Apes
You wanna know what-
You wanna know why this won’t do for me what it’ll do for you?
See, I really lose if I lose to you
You lose, you go straight back to the fuckin’ Crucible
It’s unusual
Like, how in the fuck did you get here!?
It beats me
This your 10th URL tryout, and you thought you would defeat me
Okay, Magic Johnson…
No matter how you appear to be built, you’ll always be labeled as a PG
You told DNA you’ll “stuff the 30 in the 15 like statutory rape”
(*Truth lets out an exasperated sigh*)
Listen here, little queer
You don’t think that’s just a little weird?
Like, you had a blank space in your round and said “I’ll put it here”?
And no disrespect to your craft or your height
I’m obviously not the one to belittle here
Like, like…you even did it like some kinda special move, in fact!
N***a watched Surviving R. Kelly and said “Hmm…I could shake a room wit’ that”
Proven facts
He said-
-like R. Kelly and said “I could shake a room wit’ that”
Proven facts…
(*Truth stumbles*)
Aahh…
Watched Surviving R. Kelly and said “Hmm, I could shake a room wit’ that”
Proven facts…
(*Truth chokes*)
Ah, time

[Round 3: MVP]
So Norbes blocked you from URL because he didn’t like the fact that you was with Jaz…
So he blackballed you...outta all n***as
N***a, I don’t even think Norbes like girls
He was tryna fuck y’all-
Man, the hatin’ should stop
He ain’t takin’ this spot
My mama wanted me to be a Boy Scout
I was outside makin’ a knot!
The can’ll pop!
We can fight right after this, my n***a
Is you a man or not?
‘Cause I look at this bitch and see a palm-reader
I just wanna know if Truth got hands or not
I do elite rappin’
Even my filler be cold as fuck
I just keep snappin’
So you even gotta dread the gray area like Sheed Happens!
I’m ILL!
I got the remedy (RemyD), Truth
Holla if you wanna learn a bit
Y’all thought the action was over because Verb left
No, it’s a new wave - shit’s permanent
I’m a product of the African Palace, and I brought them habits wit’ me
And a lot of you mothafuckas around this bitch startin’ to look like Twork
This used to be Magic City!
You used to do a…lotta red-raggin’
What happened?
You gon’ tell ‘em or you want me to do it?
Never mind
Askin’ a n***a, a big homie went to the joint and got put off the set
And them facts is obvi’
Now Blood ain’t worth shit no more like Magic Johnson body
This herb a herb
Can’t go word for word
I got a choppa wit’ a banana clip that I had to get used to
Shit came wit’ a learnin’ curve
You went to RBE and shit the fuckin’ bed!
You felt like that was the best solution?
As Floss had you by yo’ neck like a Mafia execution?
This the worst smoke!
I been in this field so fuckin’ long, I got turf toe!
I’m tryin’ burn a hater!
Pistol to his skull
I’m talkin’ metal to skin like the Terminator
And yo’ weak-ass partna Kid Chaos said that I had a tall task ahead of me
Pussy, you holler at who?
We ain’t gon’ talk about what the fuck you did in the tournament
Didn’t the Lou (Lu) get you outta here too?
I’m the same MVP!
You can’t change MVP!
And as long as this n***a dies, you can blame MVP
I got a mothafuckin’ chip on my shoulder
It’s about to be the shock of the night
‘Cause y’all call Yung Ill a crackhead when he wasn’t
So I’m rockin’ (rock in) the pipe
I fuckin’ spaz, dump the mag’
You fuckin’ trash
Louis Armstrong, Miles Davis
Yo’ biggest claim to fame is fuckin’ Jaz(z)?
Street Status!