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no coast rap battles – the saurus vs mood swangz lyrics

[round 1: the saurus]
i’ve been murdering mood sw-ngz since way back when i first set standards
but how are your br–sts fatter than burlesque dancers?
now i was supposed to battle daylyt back at blackout but he had a bad emergency
it was frustrating, but i understand, it’s always family first for me
now it’s deja vu for fatty once this avalanche occurs you’ll see
it’s been a decade since i buried you b-tch; happy anniversary
you get clocked at half past six, drop him with both hands
you get hungry at just the thought of watching me go h.a.m
’bout to cook up something off top when the toast jams
i built three cold rounds that came to life: frosty the snowman
this whole match is a toe tag, just give me my court date
why you running back to battles when this isn’t your forte?
bare with me, this b-tch can barely fit through the doorway
i’mma son you all night: this is winter in norway
i heard you sell garbage c-ke, and to me, that’s fine
i’ll hit you like a speed bag ’til it’s rehab time
but i’m the real dope dealer in this rematch, why?
’cause i’m the one stepping on something white with weak -ss lines!
now this is thee last time anyone will ever care who you went against
you ’bout to feel the burn, i’m the next american president
if we just comparing the evidence
we’ve seen what happens when someone from the old frontier met the bear from the revenant
i’m shredding him from head to toe, it’s sending son to heaven’s gates
what’s left of his head gets replaced with metal plates
but did y’all see his face when i said i’d stick a plate in his head?
this motherf-cker was daydreaming about other way to get fed

[round 1: mood sw-ngz]
ain’t n-body wanna battle you even when they’re offering bread
’cause everything there is to say to you has already been said
you’re greek, your cheeks are greasy, you look like dawn of the dead
plus you chose online poker over your daughter instead
you went to gamblers anonymous and followed all of the steps
but tonight will be the night you lost it all on a bet
you travel here to spit because you’re swallowed by debt
you agreed to be here because you wanted a check
but a little birdie told me you were awful upset
when you found out that no coast went and called in a vet
how many motherf-ckers here believe that he’s nice?

{crowd cheers}

[mood sw-ngz]
yep, you’re the biggest f-cking nerds i ever seen in my life!
you better pray to jesus christ he don’t freeze in a fight
there ain’t a snowb-lls chance in h-ll he’s finna beat me tonight
they called me here to battle mr. two time champ
news flash, your little boo is a two-time tramp
you’ve been two-timed, champ
it’s time to buy a clamp and get her tubes tied, champ
’cause i’m the type of dude who dumps a load in your lady
and has you going f-cking crazy from supporting my baby
i heard your b-tch be sending snapchats, of her sn-tch, via canada
she put her beaver on more screens than a nat geo camera
she said the only man she’s ever had that matched peter’s stamina
was a fat guido in the backseat of a black nissan maxima
you must be f-cking dumb thinking you can run up and diss me
you ain’t running sh-t but out of breath
i put that on my mother…and biggie
there’s no debate, i’m overweight but you got bustier t-tties
plus how the f-ck i’m finna lose to governor christie?
now even though you look the part, beneath it all you shook at heart
these d-ckheads got you full of gas #p-ssyfarts

[round 2: the saurus]
if you think you got a chance of winning today, you’re dreaming
you always calling cali soft, i’m here to call you a “b-tch” in your native region
yeah i play poker for a living but i think in a way we’re even
’cause seven days a week i just sit at a table feasting
i’m beasting in chicago: you’ll get murked though sw-ngz
i already feel like jordan in his first home game
the whole world gon’ change
wrap his body up in plastic so my shirt don’t stain
and get him kurt cobain’d!
you haven’t earned no name in chi-town, so why try now?
i ain’t from watts but when i flip that switch it’s lights out
this white clown be on his horrorcore, retro groupie sh-t
i swear on your la c-ka nostra bible and necro crucifix
you thought you’d get close? foolishness
there’s just no truth to this
i got some hippies that’ll hang ya from my hemp rope they fit
neck broke, carving out your headstone “mood’s a b-tch”
and same goes for anyone they put the west coast mook against
i’m a eulogist, there’s fewer kids that’s cornier than sw-ngz is
he swears he’s born to be dangerous
but he’s more friendly than freshman orientation is
look, i lost some weight, so i wouldn’t normally say this
but he’s so f-cking fat i could see him from my plane…when i boarded in vegas
any war that he wages, that’s a losing fight for dude
and if your dog starts barking, b-tch, i’ll euthanize him too
y’all are ’bout to see a human life removed
they hired me to pull a body out of this b-tch like a woman’s right to choose

that is a filthy bar right there

[round 2: mood sw-ngz]
so f-ck what, i ain’t battle rapped in years
it ain’t easy seeing grown men collapse and into tears
i mean i was f-cking rappers up dawg, i was damaging careers
if i stayed you’d be a godd-mn cashier at a sears
the past decade and a half, you wasted battling your peers
while i drank beers and watched re-runs of happy days and cheers
see, i don’t have to be prepared like you and practice in a mirror
i snap my fingers and poof, this douchebag magically appears
i got these battle rappers scared, left buried in an avalanche of fear
head shot, you’ll be frozen in the snow before the ambulance is here
go ahead and pop sh-t, the cops will spray your brains on ogden avenue
the paper is gonna go place the blame on rahm emanuel
but your face won’t make a page cause sh-t like this is non retractable
b-tch i’m body bagging you
it’s gonna take an act of god for me to stop attacking you
let the lord strike me down now if any of his raps are true
….well pete it looks like god thinks that you’re a f-ggot too
when it comes to heads getting peeled i’m the best in the field
you talk tough but off stage you’re all “let’s sit and build”
you’re phony, your homies back home never set trip for real
the only time you busting shots is on your buddy okwerdz when you netflix and chill
and when fresco was k!lling you, you giggled like a f-cking b-tch
that’s the day you scratch “sucking d-cks” as number one off your bucket list
you run the risk of getting busted lips every time you pump your fists
you raise a hand, i’ll call your bluff and drop you like a ton of bricks

[round 3: the saurus]
look he said if he kept battling i’d be a cashier at sears
and after giving it some thought
that line doesn’t mean sh-t because you didn’t and i’m not
now i took this match for y’all to turn this cat to compost
now porky pig is getting beat and beat and that ain’t all folks
even your chicago fans can see this battle is not close
and for this last round, i’m resurrecting caddy ron’s ghost
you fat p-ck-r wood piece of sh-t
you were never good, eat a d-ck
i’ll murder you in any league that i’m getting booked, he can pick
f-ck the stepped-on speech you get, the tweekers that you dealing with
wanna see me on some deebo sh-t? i’ll be craig and feed him bricks
geez this is easy, y’all thought he was a contender?
’til this beat becomes something that the media can censor
you ain’t squeezing on a heckler
your face is easy to remember
you played that fat kid francis back at pee-wee’s big adventure
temper, temper francis
there ain’t any chance that you’re better than this
big difference between holding weight and being heavy handed
you’ll never catch this work, degree in communications
kneeing him to his face, you can see how the mood is changing
it’s a rude awakening, vertebrae broken
i hope your homie’s od off the detergent you sold them
in the spur of the moment, every word is an omen
you always casting shade, now your curtain is closing
tell me though, man to man, honest, am i right or wrong though?
think about what your life would be outside your block, outside chicago
think of what your legacy would be if you died tomorrow
and ask yourself if you wanna add more to it like the life of pablo

[round 3: mood sw-ngz]
you know what’s worse than mentioning caddy’s name in those horrible verses?
claiming he’s your homie and ditching out on his memorial service
what difference does it make being one of battle raps best
when you look, act and speak like you haven’t had s-x
ten years plus this dude has been stacking mad checks
and he still don’t have the cash to fix that mangled -ss flesh
you got facial features like mythological arabian creatures
like you’ve been dragged face first down ancient greek stadium bleachers
your face looks like a failed attempt at alien research
that sh-t’s been ripped worse than f-cking hulkamania t-shirts
f-ck you and every member of your little fresh coast fraternity
lamb to lamb to lamb to b-tch, you rap like f-cking nerds to me
y’all love to rap about that gangsta sh-t like kidnapping, straps and burglaries
then word it so those pearly white suburbanites can understand it perfectly
i suggest you call a fresh coast emergency
and let ’em know sw-ngz is on a motherf-cking murder spree
looks like chicago is back in business fam’
this ain’t cincinnati and this ain’t motherf-cking scribble jam
if it ain’t sh-t for me sit and finish half a f-cking christmas ham
just imagine what the f-ck i do to little sacrificial lambs
if anybody got a problem watching peter getting k!lled
y’all need to chill, don’t be a giro (hero) or i’m finna slice peter (pita) in the grill
you got punked by billy boondocks and let diz’ handle your beef
if that was me, i would’ve slapped the f-cking plaque from his teeth
for years you’ve been acting like you battle rap’s commander and chief
it makes sense when sh-t goes bad you call for dizaster relief
you just got bodied in chicago, just watch when the video drops
the city finna shut this place down and beg for the k!lling to stop
i’ll slap you and your b-tch and if you snitch to the cops
i’ll roll up to the district with my pistol and put it to your pimples and pop

- no coast rap battles lyrics

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