[Round 1: Rum Nitty]
Wherever Nitty go the stick wit' him
...for certainly
Like if I'm in British Columbia, that's exactly where the burner be (Burnaby)
Ain't shit different, in Nova Scotia it's a spring feel
I've been grippin', this fully auto will get snuck in Ontario
But if I'm in Sudbury {chk-chk} The Big Nickel
I'll let the clip hit you
You'll be the first kill, won't even make it home
They're gonna have to put you in the dirt here
Family hurt still
Cause they gonna have to have your funeral service in a Winnipeg Church Ill' (Churchill)
I done seen worse for rеal, lived a reckless lifе
Baggin' dope, every night
Then chopped up so much tan butter, I damn near had a yellow knife (Yellowknife)
You? You live a fairy life
I was on the block servin'
Duckin' cops lurkin'
There was a pattern
It was proof The Alien was in the field, like a crop circle
Shots burst you
You better scatter for safety
Leg shot, hit his calf, it's gonna splat on the pavement
They gotta amputate half of it maybe
You gonna suffer the most
He on the verge of losin' one of the Bones...that'll be crazy (Krayzie)
I'll take half of my payment, it's a strap that I'm buyin'
Murda Mook with the Skittles, I drop the bag on Iron
You be in your bag when you rhymin', no lie though
When you told Ward it was "1-0 officially, you'll get 3-0'd tomorrow", was beyond cold
I instantly spelled it out, like "bravo"
But he actin' too teen (two T's), so he's the one R in (N), three O's in "Toronto"
Get dawg smoked
Bars unlimitless
Cold, paint a picture so vivid you can envision it
They ask me how I get so graphic with the words
I tell 'em, "It's a gift" (GIF), I been the shit
And you can't keep it real yourself
Suicide or I'll do the job, you decide
(Kill yourself)
[Round 1: Illmac]
Listen
I knew he was gonna spit that, I got the word he warned me
Yeah it was proof The Alien has been here, crop circles, that's cause your whole circle's corny
I mean, I'm just sayin' the homie told me, "This could be monumental. Enormous."
Raise your stock to epic proportions
I done retired rappers and seen more wire transfers than confidential informants
See I was layin' low, out the way
Everybody said it was dormant
Then snap, without a threat or a warnin', Dr. Jekyll endorphins
Had to hide my other side before the monster level performance
I level performers
Been gone, ain't put energy toward it
My last real battle I Godfathered the scene
I mean I woke up in bed in the mornin' with the head of a Horseman
I think it was head of the Horsemen
Thoroughbred, where you comin' from, I'm that era
One of one, cracked marrow
Punctured lung; Jack Sparrow
Bunch of drums, I pack barrels, just for Rum
Clap rounds, man down
Been a minute since I've sipped, I put the glass down
But they gave me gin (Jin) and Rum back to back? Wow

{Takes a shot}
Perfect night to Blackout!
I'm back now
We get it, you punch great
I've seen bloggers opinions and updates
They said, "I'm finished without punching." I figured, "That's one take."
But tell the Gun Line King I ain't threatened by gun play
Before every battle I unlock the gun safe
And spit for a month straight over 100 round drum breaks
Gun for hire
My style? Something that Rum admires
Deep down it bugs you they justify your
Lack of substance just cause a punch is fire
You've been subconsciously been leaving crumbs behind
Subtle signs you're becoming tired
Was in a crew Writer's Bloque (block), a blunt reminder your writings been uninspired
Here's what it amounts to
Punchin' for the sake of punchin', that's somethin' I outgrew
I'm deconstructing the "how to"
He'll come by my name with an idiom, had a gun and it sounds cool
But that says nothing about me, so it's nothing to outdo
You make punches about words, I make punches about you
Do you feel it slip away
The Rum we know
Bummy clothes
Fake J's, we see Rum exposed
Got me like, "What are those?"
I'm talkin' to your fuckin' soul (sole)
Don't let him fool you
He'll reference something specific about me
And a setup that makes you think he's being direct when he's not
Cause by the time he gets to the punch it's about a weapon or threat and less about the perspective he's got
A suspicious amount of gun bars have been said and his ops have never been shot
He might get a reaction from them, from me it only gets a response in the form of a question, "Is that the best that you got?"
If you don't feel a punch of mine you already dead or in shock
His soul left from his body the second it drop
One in the ground, one in the clouds, look like I'm checkin' a watch at 7:00
You ain't gonna do nothin' but make vague punches relate to a gun and a name
There's no risk
Shit, I could've been exposed
Scammin' a non-profit for 500K
I could've been on IG Live drowning a liter of puppies in a bucket today
He would be like, "Dog (dawg) when I buck it (bucket) a stray-"
Shut up!
There could've been footage of me walkin' up on the stage sayin' every word in the acronym N.W.A
I wouldn't...but if I did what the fuck would he say?
Nothing
Maybe throw a double entendre punch in my face
There's no risk
See against Rum I'd be safe
I'd leave intact, untouched and unscathed
Do you think I could do that with a Hollow, Mook, Lux or a K?
You'll never be one of the greats
Rum, Lux would only be duckin' if there was something to gain
There's no risk
What's a punch with no direction?
What do you call someone who's co-dependent?
When chasing another man has become their only obsession
Nitty, I spit that shit that you think about and stare at your own reflection
Gun to your head, who's going to kill you worse? Me or Lux?
Pow
It was a Loaded question
I mean, you're in a crew called Fourth Quarter
But I hate when people call you "a Quarter"- wack
What? Lux said Hitman is the bigger battle I mean we can't ignore the facts
He gets 70-80K for him, psst, probably warrants that
That's why they call you "a Quarter", with you he'd only get a fourth of that
Now, I ain't sayin' I got the perfect style but I'm versatile
See I do what I want and you do what works for now
For now
[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
I told The Saurus I won't stall him
I mean it's your people so I won't kill him but I'ma fo' sho' harm him
Leg shot, he'll do no walkin'
Tryin' to put Peter only in a wheelchair like Joe Swanson
Pole sparkin'
Take his body close to the ocean then go toss it
There's free healthcare, it's so awesome
Cause you can dropped off at the dock (doc) whenever I feel ill (Ill') and get no charges
Cold-hearted, you won't get found forever
Just throw him in the water, get rid of ill (Ill') like Alka-Seltzers
You could've got these rounds whenever
They asked you on Ruin Your Day and he turned it down, remember?
He thought the battle rap crowd would let him
Tried to chicken out, then they made you ill (Ill') like salmonella
Pull up to your address, actin' reckless, strapped with Hecklers
Tooled up like I'm Black & Decker
Hop out the van, like The Geek Squad, 'bout to have Mac run fast as ever
You an average legend
But you think you overhot huh?
I mean, you was back in the day but froze your stock up, the goin' got tough
You was a Trailblazer, from Portland, now Greg old and (Odin) washed up
Aye, Greg Poe get popped up, I'm actually gon' leave you
Get the address to your house whippin' past the old Regal
Black and chrome Eagle, the clip is stickin' out, look like a pan handle...and that's for Poe (po') people
I'm gon' see you, and clap this man up
Who you playin' wit'?
I just got a hand crafted casket sander
You can lay in it
Fight back, these goddamn rappers act tough but you not dangerous
Optimus Prime, the only way the 'Mac (MAC) gon' stand up to an Alien
Bitch I'm dangerous
And you can't keep it real yourself
(Suicide or I'll do the job, you decide, kill yourself)

[Round 2: Illmac]
You proved my first round right when you came in with that trash
"Made you ill/salmonella"- name flip, it was ass
That's how you know I'ma leave Earth and his spaceship has crashed
I already reverse engineered this Alien's craft
I mean, I feel like nobody can talk the alien shit like me so let's do that
I crossed the boarder with my tribal ID, it ain't safe for Rum
Who gon' spray ya gun?
Speakin' of violence, huh, that's my native tongue
Bang a drum like I'm tryin' to summon the ancient ones
I seen a plot from the host, thought The Alien would body me, but it only made me one
Yeah, he called me out, he was mentioning my name, thought he was huntin' me, I let him
As I led him to his grave
Cause I seen this movie before and the endin' is the same in every single way
A native holdin' the head of an alien, I turned Predator to Prey
I'll bait him, then break him, like the states when they make treaties
Predator one, you huntin' Schwarzenegger, it ain't easy
Cover my face and I play sneaky cause even with dirt on me the Alien can't see me
I'll send the Alien home, we beamin' E.T. up
Shots fired in the crib, turn your TV up
I don't care if he keep heat tucked
You outside with the MAC ('Mac), but inside PC'd up
He sucks, lookin' scared like he's starin' at a ghost
I'ma catch a clean 30 it ain't fair it isn't close
I can show 'em the body, there will be a narrative from folks
A Mexican exposing a petrified alien, they swearin' it's a hoax
Get smoked
Ain't no ill will when I'm snatchin' this W
I'll take the champs belt and beat you with it until it actually buckles you
X-Files said "The truth is out there"
Hmph, the fact you took that for granted is uncomfortable
You almost didn't recognize when it's standin' in front of you
Yeah I caught wind your little invasion was planned
This like a government cover up, all you see is agents and vans
Skrrrt! I pull up, it's on sight (site) when The Alien land
[?] Nitty, I got his chain in my hand
His boss is like, "No. Let up Nitty." I'm breakin' the chain of command
I'm talkin' safety broken
He gon' say he got the extendo on that thang he totin'
But you ever seen an alien...with a dick?
Me either, and what's with all the anal probin', y'all some weirdos
Humanity needs to know, y'all some weirdos
I break opponents, you came here to make a moment
I came here to take your moment and this will only take a moment
You ain't Rum, you're Twork junior, I ain't hearin' a thing
I watched Ancient Aliens a month straight
And there was clearly a theme
You, mirror here in this ring
An alien gettin' credit for somethin' he didn't create, another pyramid scheme
I mean, you took a shortcut
Got your headliner from the undercard
You stole hand gestures, delivery and how you structure bars
Well y'all remember Space Jam?
He got no talent and he come from Mars
So before the game begin The Alien stole his powers from another star
You needed Twork like Bugs needed Mike
And not the other way, stop it
You treated his style like Michael's secret stuff
You might've won the game off it, but it's just the same content
And that doesn't change cause you slap another name on it
Nitty...fuck...am I actually stumblin'
Nah, I ain't miss a step
I almost forgot I took a shot cause Rum ain't hit me yet!
It's no risk Nitty...look at him, he mad right now
Aye don't try to put up your hands right now
I mean, he prolly wishin' he could hop in his little craft right now
Aye somebody call Smack right now
They probably wishin' they could hide this in The App right now

{Nitty yawns}

I'll take you to space with them fake yawns
Look, you grew up watching The Jungle like a sloth on the branches
And that's what fueled The Alien takin' off from this planet
You a 2 on the Kardashev Scale, with a cosmic advantage
Cause you got the suns (S.O.N.S.) and studied Quantum's mechanics
Damn it
Try to switch it up, that's the way you'll get killed
Observer Effect, his behavior changes when his nature's revealed
Well even clocks slow down in my gravitational field
Keep a pole in his place like the planets rotation and tilt
This is proof of relativity, Einstein shared a thesis
But when I write the fabric of space/time tears to pieces
We at opposite ends of a wormhole where time veered to reach us
Cause you standin' right here but there's light years between us
Distance
Distance
I mean time

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
You put my name on a card and get a bigger crowd, no lyin'
You don't ever gotta doubt that
Ain't nothin' really special about 'Mac he's just a Thousand Islands
Book me, and get the crowd excited
Soon as you announce it, you see the numbers on the trailer, like "How's my driving?"
This out of line, but where your girl at?
Tell us you gotta drop this Ill' loser, get a real man
I wouldn't give her 12 racks
She'll let me smash for a two dollar toonie coin; bear (bare) back
Real facts, for real bro, I can't even lie
You probably got all these bitches out in Canada Dry
They ain't feelin' Ill' no mo', you'll get killed fo' sho'
You can't compete
You gon' need some type of help, these raps elite
Go get half your team
Let's see if you can handle The Alien when it's just Mac & Me
He gon' say the way I rap is weak
You have to quit
Cause in order for you to break down my every move, you had to be a fan of it
Critiquing shit that you can't do, he's just babblin'
That's not battlin', my n***a you're an analyst, and y'all n***as gassed the shit
But what you NOT finna do, is tell ME how I gotta move
Especially when I'm hotter, still at the top and got more accomplished than you
That's why dawg always lose, he be fo' sho' hatin'
Talkin' 'bout, all I do is punch, "some ole name flips
No angling. So basic."
But what he gon' fail to mention is that I'm the most dangerous
I show greatness, but you been knowin'
For me not to respect you as a legend, I'd be dead wrong
I can't put you on my Mount Rushmore, but I give you a headstone
Get stepped on, hit me wit' it, try
This whole section'll (sectional) get dropped off; Rent-A-Center
You can't dodge a pistol n***a
I got Ill' (ill) soon as he tried to duck; influenza
Put him in a blender
Right upper, his legs might buckle
After the jab hit him, I caught 'Mac(k) slippin', like an ice trucker
You gon' die fucker
We don't play, this ain't what you thought it is
You gon' be amazed, we got heat for days
They keep tellin' me "MAC in his bag" he ain't gon' make it past TSA
The first time I squeezed my K, I made the ave proud
Hood rats wanted to fuck, gave me mad clout
Cause they knew I really pull that bitch
Shoot my shot, in other words, lay the mack ('Mac/MAC) down
And you can't keep it real yourself
(Suicide or I'll do the job, you decide, kill yourself)

[Round 3: Illmac]
They say Rum the best pen now, that shit weird to me
He 'bout to get cleared in three
Listen, I ain't got The App, you're still mid-tier to me
They had him trapped behind that paywall, he been stuck
You think I put you next to a Tay Roc or a Lux?
Maybe I'm wrong, you could be top tier, for $8 a month
Rum, they gon' regret letting you out that cage when you lose to me
But when I lost to Con' and Hollow the same day it awakened the truth in me
I seen space for improvement, it was a place that was new for me
Then my Arsonal performance? Ehhh
Sparked a flame and it grew on me
Fans thought I couldn't adapt, it was gas in the tank that was fuelin' me
See my loses are public domain
They gave me new strength so were tools to me
The App gave you impunity
That support base is basically an escape from the scrutiny
Behind that pay wall, safe in your little gated community
Everything I say is direct, can't misinterpret that
If you say you just like Rum, shit I can work with that
But you can't downplay my legacy, bitch I worked for that
I was a factor in the circuit before the circuit was a circus act
Before Young Hot got 30'd by Murda and Murda got jerked for that
I was on my Grizzle before Hollow ripped his shirt in half
An animal, before Goodz was sippin' Henny and Free' got murked by Cas'
Back when, you had to cop DVD's to even hear a verse on SMACK
Before Surf was yellin' "Jersey" and Twork was strapped
Been a legend since Cortez was skinny and Verb was fat
Now I'm laughin' cause that's funny
See I go back like snaps on the gas money
I'll take the champs belt off and make him act like a crash dummy
Askin', "What's a Champion Of The Year to the champ of the last 20?"
But try to hit me with that suicide/do the job corny combo
I'll put his DNA on display like the Maury talk show
With a blade that was made by (Hattori Hanzo!)
I'll roll past his turf, pull up in AZ, and say, "What's the dilly?" like an old classic verse
All you heard was a firm slap, sound like a phone tap at first
Your whole style? You stole that
Just own that
Bro has some nerve
That's not your bag, go snatch a purse
Cause that style he jackin' Molly Cyrus dancin', throwback to twerk (Twork)
You don't rap, you punch
That isn't special if it's as gentle as a love tap
I don't punch I disassemble, there's different levels in the run back
You vs. Twork just look like he was gettin' credit on a Rum track
Y'all ain't producin' classics, he gave you the beat
Plus he was instrumental in ya comeback
Gun Line King
What he think he royalty for?
Can't outwrite me with a style another man gets royalties for
What?
What? You got the steel in hand?
Twork hand motion that's your stealing hand?
Ain't Tay Roc the Gun Bar King and that's still ya man?
Now you the Gun Line King, whatchu tryin' to steal his fans?
I mean, you would bootleg Tay Roc too, I guess that's still on brand
How the legacy of a broken down Roc(k) was built on sand
Damn you- I'm not a hostile guy
But you would get knocked out, a real docile vibe
You know what we got in common though?
I see your footage from the Ring cam' where you hop out, slide
Then stole a delivery like a porch pirate...but I'll still box outside
I'll fold him at the waist
Yoke him like an egg
Glitter bomb, this for stealing the delivery, blows up in his face
I'm GOAT'ed
Hold on, let me get this right again
Biting's in?
Why pretend?
Quite the trend
I mean, this guy took his voice from him
You took your style from them
These guys copy you, I mean when does the cycle end?
Shit, you wanted Lux so bad they threw you in the lions (Lionz) Den
You better watch Twork battle just to hype ya pen cause that's the only time he gets to say, "I am him"
But I'm really him
Where's the originality at?
Just speakin' as a fan that's watchin'
Half the time I react on Watch I can't be honest
Speakin' for the fans, surprised they even react as often
But how can they know what they want when they haven't got it?
Been at a loss and out of options, supportin'
Spendin' checks they earned at a job for you to snatch deposits
Guaranteed back end, cash grabs in exchange for this bastardized
Repackaged product
It's the battlers fault
We ain't pushin' standards often enough
Padding stats and losses
We can't acknowledge, echo chamber, popularity contests
The rappers got this
Average monotonous
Floor model, factory bought, fresh out the box trash shit poppin'
You're not the worst
You're the best example dawg, a macrocosm
I'm the caveat, he can punch his little heart out, I don't even have to dodge 'em
Won't even put up my hands to block 'em
Feels like a gnat I'm swattin'
I'm brushin' off your little room shakers like aftershocks
In Cali that shit's common
Your writing lacks a plot
Your half-concocted punches are nothing but malaprops, that's the problem
Rum, when you don't actually attack opponents it isn't punchin' it's shadowboxin'
He'll throw an uppercut and a left, right in front of my head
But you can't punch me to death if nothing connects cause you're not fuckin' direct
Maybe that's why Lux is duckin'
You can't fuck with a vet'
You're safe, predictable, you do what we expect
So what you expect?
I'll keep it 100%
In the eyes of real writers you're not enough of a threat
And that's why you'll go down as one of the best punchers
...and I'll go down as one of the best