DJ I-Dee, Tim Chantarangsu - Battle Rap lyrics

Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four!
Three! Two! ONE!
Get ready fighters - it's showtime!

Hi Timothy, it's your boy IDee
Part time emcee, super disc jockey
This ain't grind time, but bitch, it's Oz
And I'mma make you mine just because

Motherfuckin IDee, I'mma call your Isaac
My flow too tight, just like how my eyes get
Put this on my Facebook, no I didn't like it
And we are not friends
So hop up offa my dick

The first one was written
Dude what are you spittin?
You don't even know you just
Spit about chains and glisten
Battle rap attack, I'm six foot four
You're short
I suggest you use Gary Coleman's
Corpse for leg support

Playboy hat but you get no play
How I'm fuckin hoes, you fuckin Jose
Goofy-ass fuck, you need to be slapped
You know you can't rap and
Your beats be whack

I can't believe my eyes final round!

Here we go again, everyone look at Traphik
Constantly wishing his dick was
Big as a Vlasic pickle dude here's a nickel
Quick, what else rhymes with nickel? Shit

You got no rhythm and you always look drunk
Tall as fuck but yo' ass can't dunk
I fucked yo' bitch, you better call Maury
And he popped a blood vessel on
His dick - true story!

Yeah I fucked up, dude you suck
I'm just gonna go generic and say WHAT WHAT!
Like the NORE song - you
Like a cocker spaniel
I'mma leave you dead like Pearl comma, Daniel

I'mma kill your mom, and throw her in a lake
Your name is IDee cause you always be fake
Yo' ass cain't dress
You need to cut your hair
Turntable champ, cool - no one cares!