King of the Dot, Illmac, Rone - Illmaculate vs. Rone (Title Match) lyrics

I have orchestrated this beautifully
Like I was intricate on strings with it
Co-Rone-ation day
From my Simba shit to the king of this
Today I think like a king it’s in my bones
In my speech today I eat like a king
I’m thinkin' bon appetit
It’s been six months
What glory did you bring home to the league?
You ain’t even seize the throne that
Crown was thrown at your feet
What is the title to you? Oh, what
Now you’re a star?
No, you’re still broke, bummy
Scrounging for rounds at the bar
So I consider the term "title"
Not sounding so hard
When you’ll never have a title on
A house or a car
See, you never rap enough piff
To pack up the joint
And so they made a call to Rone
(Calderon) to back up the point
See we could battle for one hour
We could do a one-rounder
You lost the title after one
Match that’s a short reign
(rain) like a sun shower
You think like such a pussy
Whenever you make a verse
You’re so scared of what
Someone else might say
So you try to say it first
Well I predict that you’ll predict what
I do in this match
And you’ll get done like the last prophet
(Prophit) that I threw in the trash
Boy thinks that he’s a psychic
But no one here’s believing him
It’s funny he’s an extra small but
He thinks that he’s a medium
But this pussy smells fishy
Is that salmon or albacore?
Is he mackerel or just gutted? He can’t
Get a call back from Macklemore
Bitch all my dogs loyal
Like DJ Khaled or a Labrador
I’m in El Salvador
Dodging bullshit off the cape
Just like a matador
Bitch, I’m just getting started
This is salad course
You’re mad trash like a bag
Full of apple cores
Oh he ain’t catch it? Who the fuck he
Nelson Agholor? If he the plug
I’ll rip him out by the power cord
You think you could rap
But my flow’s so disgustin'
Stumpman, stumpman, stumpman
You like five foot nothin'
Since I brought my boys here I
Think I might jump him no
Since he this tall, damn
I think that I could jump him whoa
You live off apology checks you get
‘cause you’re a eighth Native American
That means we’re payin' you
To shut the fuck up and
Not complain ‘bout your heritage
And that’s the only checks you get
The only income that you draw
So if my people hadn’t killed your people
You would get no money at all i mean
No hood booger want to boogie with you
No neighbor got any sugar to use i mean
Saurus gets ten million times more pussy than
You and look at the dude
And I bet those walls in
The friend zone steep
Twin bitches suck a nut for a Benzo each
You a snitch and a broke little SOB
I bet the pink slip on any
Car that Greg Poe lease (police)
Wait any bar that Ill
Conceived is ill-conceived
It’s no illusion Ill losing
This the guillotine
It’s incredible I’m what makes Ill edge-able
The fact that he can’t read me
I feel like like I’m illegible
But, you braggin' ‘bout smoking
Weed in Oregon, i said that isn’t even Ill
Is it? Wait, smoking weed in Oregon
That isn’t even illicit
Boy, I pass models coke on glass-bottom boats
This some sacrificial slaughter
It’s the lamb vers’ the GOAT
And I get he’s your bro and
That you think that he’s dope
But do me a favor: get Bigg
K’s dick out your throat
I mean, in the Caustic battle
You have his whole D in your mouthpiece
You all over Kenny’s nuts
Like Stevie Janowski you takin' trips
I make your bitch sit and
Leave me a house key
Then come piss on the rug
Like the scene from Lebowski world Dom One
We were faded off Canadian liquor
Saurus had a bitch in his room trying
To say he could hit her but he declined
When he ain’t even have to
Pay for the stripper
So for thinkin' Ill is straight
(illustrate) , well, what
I got to paint you a picture? World Dom Two
You blackout wrestled Dirtbag Dan
The full story is that Dirt merked that man
At the hotel that night
He choked you out twice
I’m used to your rounds putting me to sleep
Well now you know what that’s like
Check, Illmac tried to rush him
Right? Dan got him mummified
He couldn’t have put you to sleep faster
With warm milk and a lullaby
So talk shit when I’m passin' by you and
It’s not a thing to pacify you
And if you sleep on any of my shit tonight
Then I’m lookin' for Dan behind you

He mentioned my homie from Seattle
Which reminds me
There’s just something wrong about you
To the point Macklemore might make
A song about you i mean
I’ll show you how to deliver the frees
And get sick in the ring
He said The Saurus gets more pussy and
He might be spittin' the frees
But that’s fitting
You know why that that’s fitting to me?
‘Cause you’re getting loose
And this is the biggest pussy that’s
Every been given to me
All right, look, straight to it
I been the champ, before the title or trophy
Get your wifey to blow me
But, I don’t chase birds that’s
For Wile E coyote
My fam is full of animals like I was Mowgli
They won’t be happy ’til his head in a box:
(Bing) smiley emoji get socked in the ring
Like I’m Mick Foley minus the goatee
You’d get ate (eight) with a twenty-four
But I’m retiring Roney
With a seasoned sixteen shit
Remind me of Kobe i don’t play in the ring
Yo, you got no bars, like a parolee
You got no bars, like a parolee
I said it twice that’s okay
Cause I guaranteed to pepper Roney
Hold up no bars, like a parolee
It doesn’t matter you know why?
I’ll get a body out of
Nowhere like Kylie and Khloe
Grimey, I’ll treat Roney like
A entree served warm
And never fight clean, I was always dirt poor
I rep the North West like Kanye’s first-born
You couldn’t ride the wave
With Beyonce’s surfboard surfboard
Roney’s music? Nerdcore you are a joke
This motherfucker is a shtick
Him and his friends get together and
Punch each other in the dick
You are a clown
I guess college life made them closer
They’re like, "party’s on
Bro" Invite some ladies over
But don’t pass out
These guys could play the joker
They shave each other’s eyebrows and
Draw dicks on their faces
While they’re wide awake and sober
You are a cornball
You’re battle rap for teeny boppers
Expose the gimmicks
Wave riders: motion sickness
I mean, we might be close in pigment
But the approach is different
You, "white kid raps fast"
Mac Lethal, all viral, so suspicious
I mean, why? Old traditions? Wholesome image?
It’s simple you’re a symbol
Of their own existence
Clothes and skin, shit
They look at you, see a mirror
Don’t even know the difference
Just can’t get Past his Presence oh
So simplistic
They think he’s the Future ‘cause he reflects
Their lives like the Ghosts of Christmas
You’re battle rap for dummies
For the casual fan
Get rocked whip him with my spatula hand
Since he a flash in the pan
That’s just the tip of the
Iceberg the Titanic get slammed
Put us in the same boat
I’ll split you like a catamaran
If my name’s at stake
(steak) , I got cattle to brand
Bitch, I’m a legend, and I still
(steel) open doors, like a battering ram
You a virus I’ll penicillin ya
There’s never been a ceilin' to my writing
So my pen is sealing ya
Spiteful, I bet it’s killing ya
Thirsty, riding on genitalia
Such a desperate for attention whore
Where he’s from is a metaphor
Be mindful, his city’s telling ya
He’d probably swap AIDS with Tom Hanks
Just to go viral in Philadelphia
See, you’re just here to entertain
So you’re feeling like the cash crop
But that little bit of fame dries
Up when the laughs stop
So you can have them views
‘cause I’ll be here when your fans not
I’ll hold down the champ slot
He can be the mascot

You said I could be the mascot
But no one believes you
If it wasn’t for the stage
No one could see you
But, I’ve battled fat rappers
I’ve battled short rappers
I’ve battled gun rappers
But never sword rappers
He doesn’t rap about guns
‘cause they’re not realistic
He’ll rap about dragons that
Fight with Aladdin, but it comes to ‘matics
And he’ll be like eh eh
He’ll rap about Frodo and all-seeing logo
But it comes to fo’-fo’s
And he’ll be like no, no well what you got
The Yoroitoshi or the bolo on ya?
You got the viking, or the bowie
Or the old Katana?
I’m in the Cutlass laughing at
The blade at your side rocking stilettos
You’ve been giving off a rapier vibe
Like it’s a game in your mind
Trying to perpetuate that thug life
He holds his blade like a mic, screaming
"All I need is one knife"
That shit isn’t cut right
That shit shows your blood type
There’s a name for that: bringing a
Knife to a gun fight
I mean, you rap of the corniest shit:
"I’ll take the hammer of
Thor off Orion’s belt
If I stared at Medusa, her eyes would melt"
Shut the fuck up
That shit’s your only angle
So you don’t want to tangle
If the Illuminati are what’s keeping
Your music off the radio
We owe them a "thank you"
See I could coach him, like Cus D’Amato
With details like custom autos
You think that it’s just bravado? I done this
(Dundas) like West Toronto
You playing yourself on stage just
Like he John Leguizamo
So fuck Hitori Hanzo I’ll turn
Greg into Greg Giraldo
Bro, you look like Wee Man with
A cheap tan and no bread
If you’re ever kicking yourself
It’s probably in your own head
His name is Greg Poe but
It should be Po’ Greg
‘cause I’d be your size if I had no legs
A paper cut could lay him
Up under a surgical lampshade
Then we could cover your whole
Body with one vertical Band-Aid
I will give your fam shells like
I’m serving a clam bake
Then I’ll break down a pound
Like I’m learning a handshake
What you know about talkin' about fake
Drug shit to fit in?
You can’t argue with that
Fucking selling edibles out in Oregon
Well you started with snacks
On that White in New York
You want to party with Smack whenever sonny
(Sunny) In Philadelphia then it’s
(Dennis) Charlie with Mac
But who getting Jobs in the Apple
Out of Mac and Tosh (MacIntosh)?
And if you can’t get booked there
You can’t get looked at one
Of the battle gods
He break the law in front of some
Cops out in Brooklyn for sport
Just so he could say that he
Got booked in New York
Fuck if you pray to the West you
Look like prey to the East
And so it’s asalamalakum
Then I’m making him sleep
I feel like Kanye if it came to the beef
‘cause I’d throw 500 on a fade
Every day of the week
Oh, you got locked up? Well it doesn’t count
If you were tryin' to get caught
Buying drugs
Shining your watch in the eyes of the cops
Like, "Please, at least slam me down
Or pull me out of traffic, pal
Or at least get me patted down
So I have somethin' to rap about"
You the dude at the DUI checkpoint like
"I know my rights"
As he’s ridin' home at night down
The road on a stolen bike talkin' ‘bout
Diamonds are evil and jewelry is opulent
Until you got your first chain and
You couldn’t stop rockin' it
You think you got it figured
Out about anything ornate
You think expensive clothes
Exemplify poor taste
You trying to justify the salad
That’s sittin' on your plate
Acting like meat is murder ‘cause
You can’t afford steak
What look, outside of battling
Did Illmaculate get?
You turn your opportunities into nothing
And that’s sad as a bitch
And now you couldn’t even leave if
We asked you to quit
It’s like you’re holdin' onto battling like
It’s the only thing you have, ‘cause it is

This body’s about be a classic in this bitch
He brought up the Hitori Hanzo blade
Like that shit was a myth
I think Rone thinks that
He’s actually a prince
I’m confused, Rone, ‘cause you talk like man
But you act like bitch
I mean, you look like Rone
But you rap like Twist
I drank with Norm Kelly
We toast a glass like this said Cheers
And told Norm I got his back like Cliff
You called him a bitch, sounding a bit jelly
But who’s the mayor of
Philly? Go ‘head, bitch, tell me
No? No? Cool, ‘cause Norm ‘ll beat the shit
Out of Jim Kenny and run him out of Philly
Quicker than Chip Kelly you battled DNA
Day of the event, here’s an angle he ‘a pick
He said black rappers don’t raise their
Kidsyou a racist piece of shit
If that’s who you want as champ
You can get AIDS and eat a dick
Cause that shit ain’t acceptable on any
Stage or league you with for real
That’s the reason some fans
Don’t care KOTD exists
First you gay this week, then switch
You’re cornier than the day Charron
Claimed that he’s a Crip
You should be put in your place
And make good on your statements
But he ran track for Penn State
So he’s always been good with the races
I heard he was getting roasted
On the message board
After bloggin' throwing a tantrum
On the tennis court
Which I thought was the perfect metaphor
You know
Him getting served over the 'net when
He could’ve been a better sport?
It’s perfect, ‘cause in that blog
He said I was the benefactor of the system
That’s why I get more credit
While bloggin' from all-white facility
For indoor tennis
(You don’t see the all right)
Benefactor of what, Rone? It’s
Been a long road, chock full of potholes
I lost a match in the ring
I was Jack with the beans
I aimed high ’til my stock (stalk) rose
Stockholm yeah, the fans can be hot-cold
But mono e mono I’ll cook you like
Pot roast on a hot stove
Or waffles at Roscoe’s, you a snot nose
But what I wrote is sniffs
El Chapo to nostrils
So don’t reach that’s a Dot role
Don’t Flop you a lost Soul
Dude is silly you from Philly? I’m
Ali when he boxed Joe
Get it? You boxed, Rone
You John Doe you’re spot’s
Blown like a foxhole
You’re not dope you’re not Diz he’s
Not me he’s not grown
And we all know that I’m 5’4"
But, if I roll to Rone’s
Crib then Rone’s getting 5-0
In three rounds you’re getting five-o’ed
Uou rap fast you could die slow
Toronto, this is not close
He’s Tosh hostin' a talk show
I mean he’s got jokes
But what I’ve written will inspire
Ambition in a writer (Ridah)
A combo of Pac’s ghost
Hollow and Pablo Picasso in God mode
Bruh, even you admit you’re corny
It’s just sad that your fans can’t
Spoiled brat
His parents paid for rap camp and
Half the sales on Bandcamp
He just wants what he can’t have
So he wrote until his hands cramped
Then got the chain as a lower back tat
Know what he calls it? His champ stamp
But he’s soon to be the king
Soon to be the k that’s how they brand you
Cool i got the King, helpless, think, Elvis
Watch where this fall from grace lands
(Graceland) you
Malpractice: boy, I’m out of patience
(patients) and such soon to be the man
That obnoxious phrase is a crutch
Got ‘em calling you "king" for
No reason: conversations with Lux
(Look at me, king oh, he gon get this work)
See, his whole persona is "look
At me, look at me, " so proud of his fame
They should call you "Team Mascot"
When announcin' your name
You know why? He puts on this
Character to keep the crowd entertained
Then pulls a couple stunts
Til a real player comes and you
Get taken out of the game

What’s the point of going out on a tour
When there’s no one in the crowd
When you clowns go perform?
You’re so deep in the game
Still sleeping down on the floor
You act proud
But it rots you right down to your core
So, to say I fuck with you?
Well I doubt it for sure
Renowned or obscure
I never heard a sound you recorded
Bitch, you’ve been making music since 2004
And I still haven’t listened to
One album of yours
And the fans of your rap music
Are white as a Klan unit
I’m tryin' to make him embrace
It, but damn it, he can’t do it
He should be grassroot-ing
But instead he pack-mule-ing
‘lac cruising, gat shooting
Back of the tan Buick said you had nicks
(Knicks) for starters
Like Al Houston and Pat Ewing what’s next
You makin' gram movements like Fat Jewish?
Well, that lightweight angle is
Shaky as Shaq shootin'
And that’s stupid as Atlanta fans
Rootin' for Cam Newton
Boy, you said your dream battle’s Jin
I couldn’t give a shit less
It’s funny a little Asian kid
Couldn’t make you a success (6's)
It’s a vignette on forgotten skill and
A prequel to popping pills
It’s sick how you think you’re sick
How the mighty have fallen Ill
Bro pat Stay’s first was all short
Jokes to put this herb down
So for me to try any of
That shit would be retarded
But, I gave Pat Stay every short joke
He used in his first round
So I was up one nothing
Before this battle even started
I don’t have short jokes I
Don’t have short facts
I don’t have short quotes I
Just have short math lookism
A guy who’s 5’6" has to make $183, 000 a year
More than someone who is 6’
To be deemed equally attractive
That’s $24, 000 an inch
That’s the fraction we’ll use
And what I did is I took my
Height and subtract it from dude’s
So look at you, 5’5", but that’s adding a few
So Google me 6’1 and a half or 6’2"
Before this battle even starts
By all the math that I do
I’m already a quarter million dollars
More attractive than you
And there’s nothin' you can do about it
You know that it’s unfair
You could be Brad Pitt in the
Face and no woman would care
I mean, there’s height restrictions
In the military
I don’t know why it’s disgusting
But of course you hate the government
You’re too short to die for your country
So that explains his head condition
His conspiracies, his pessimism
Another adolescent victim, short, poor
Expecting visit's
From a daddy who’d never swing it
So rage done festered in him
And he turned it against the system
But being short is no excuse
For being a mental midget
I mean, you hate yourself for being short
I can tell it through your face
But look on the bright side
There’s less of you hate
And losses are a positive
So you should see some growth from this
But the fact is
You’re 5’3" and you just can’t get over it
He’s jealous I call myself the Prince
Like that should describe you
Well, maybe you’re right, too
‘cause you and Prince are both 5’2"
I call myself the Prince as a Symbol
That I’m forging my own path
I call myself the Prince
‘cause it will always
Be something I was formerly known as
Like: 2056, in a nursing home t-Rex’s
Granddaughter is nursin' holmes
Brittle bones, decrepit clothes
Shoes too big for your feet
Cause after all the years of gravity
He’s shrunken to 4’3"
He’s past the whole rapping thing
Now he’s battling for his sanity
Dementia and Alzheimer’s he can’t
Recognize his own family
So they don’t visit
He’s so lonely his incontinent useless ass
Well one of the nurses, somehow
Hears that he used to rap
So as a birthday present
She decides to drag a classic out
Gets all the invalids, the old people
And has them gather ‘round
She says it’s Illmac versus Rone
But then he panics at the sound
Cause as soon as he hears my name
Then he flashes back to now and suddenly
He’s wishin for his casket and his death
Suddenly, he’s short of air and
He’s grabbing for his neck
And if that was then and this is now
And you’re still panicking' through sweat
Then imagine just how bad it
Was at the actual event

He keeps bringing up conspiracies
And half of you laugh
Well, I must be a conspiracy
Theorist that’s actually facts
Shit, I feel like BOB with
What Adam just rapped
‘cause I swear that entire
Round was actually flat
As a matter fact, you talking ‘bout my drugs
When I got caught for the case
He didn’t mention my P’s, did he (Diddy)?
I mean that’d be perfect
‘cause his most-reacted line is
When he remixed me
(P Diddy - Remix me? Fuck all that)
What you looking at? You are not a
Man you will never be a man
You know why? He let Pat palm the
Back of his head with his hand
Never mind Sandusky molesting this bitch
YouTube "getting brains in the lac"
I didn’t edit this shit
It’s a video of you giving
Pat head in the whip
You don’t remember the clip? You didn’t
Think I would mention this shit?
Pat looked like MadChild last Blackout
A Swollen Member getting neck
While he’s stiff
The video starts, Pat getting
Head in the car
Nothing too embarrassing in it
Til it’s revealed it’s not a girl, it’s you
Genius, being gay is hilarious get it?
(No? Me either)
Tell me this: what was the moment you
Became aware they were taping there?
Was it when Pat came, you came up for air
Wiped your facial hair
After treating Pat’s dick like you was ‘bout
To find the chain in there?
I guess we just from two different scenes
Cause, I ain’t trying to get
On YouTube and watch men
(Watchmen) do shit obscene
You normally play the Comedian
But in that new clip I seen
You just went Dr manhattan on us: just blew
(blue) dick on screen
Hey, fuck it though you should get
A letterman jacket for pleasuring Pat
Giving head in the ‘lac
Yo, I guess when he lettered in track
Ain’t the only time he’s ever been a
() head in a lap
We both battled Pat look how
We related to him
I left with Pat’s head you gave it to him
How did that relationship start? Does he
Think that it’s fate as well?
Or did you just slide in his DMs like, "A s
L"? That shit’s gay as hell
And you taped it well
I don’t care he made it
He’s Larry David: he played himself
You know what? You’re the
Most disrespected battler
Pesci ain’t got shit on you
Daylyt left the stage and dipped on you
Pat Stay put his dick on you
Diz made you dress up as Bruce Jenner
And put a wig on you
Now, I’m ‘bout to wig on you
The judge decide the outcome
Think Pimp a Butterfly album:
I got schitz (skit's) on you
Slap that Roney Baby the Prince off you
Cold case charron’s face: leave prints on you
Break you down put it
Together: I’ll jigsaw you
Show up to your improv group, impromptu
Insult the chick on you
Diss her, and spit on you no, Diz
Eurgh spit on you i’ll diss her
(Eurgh) and leave: Irvine crip on you
Walk in your crib on you
Skip the welcome mat, wipe my kicks on you
Slap the cereal bowl out your hand and
Go Queenzflip in the whip on you
When I whip on you
You know what? It’s something bothering me
I just can’t ignore it
Everybody blames Sandusky they got
The facts distorted
I mean, if you seen what Rone was wearing
He was practically asking for it
Forget the rape that’s a
Subject that we’ll avoid i mean
I had to mention it I didn’t have any choice
But now it’s a tactic employed he’s
Learned to handle with poise so fuck it
I’ll bell-clap him won’t hear
Any actual noise flat on canvas
No punch landed you scrapping with Floyd
Shoulder lock
Crack clavicle grapple on point
Jab like Zab jaw tap him like Roy body blow
Head shot his jaw crack like his voice
Mandible snapped at the joint
Hey yo Sandusky! That’s how you
Put hands on this boy
And as you just seen, I beat his ass so badly
I’m on my next lap next title match
Me and Pass in Cali (Whassup?)