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real deal vs. e. farrell - ibattle lyrics

[round 1: e. farrell]
i say, yo, lexx hit my jack, i was eatin’ berry gelato
on a beach wit’ demi lovato and nelly furtado
he said, “you wanna battle rap again and let it be pr*nto?”
i said, “cool. just book my flight and i’ll be ready tomorrow.”
so let’s keep this short and sweet like the lollipop guild
i ain’t watch your last battle, but you prob’ly got k!lled
your man get 80 in his top like an oxycont’ pill
now this jackass’ best friend’s done (dunn) like johnny knoxville
you’re gettin’ mollywhopped, real, no respect for your talent
paycheck*to*paycheck, you second*guessin’ your balance
my right hand is sick, but my left is italian
make you do a 360, deal: megan thee stallion
i’m wildin’
back because i do it for the fans
the sh*t i draw will make you sh*t your drawers, ruinin’ your plans
i’ll sit you down with cases like you viewin’ movies wit’ your fam’…
“chef boy rd?” (*chuckles*)
i’mma put his noodle on the can
dome shot, i hold glocks
you don’t want me to ride
your set get they head wrapped like somalian tribes
you think your memory is great, ‘til i’m c*ckin’ the slide
a couple shootin’ in his bank like bonnie and clyde
talkin’ how you rep’ your city? well, i brought the pole in it
i got the stick in the pitt’, and it’s not deodorant
oh, you don’t call your city “pitt?” that’s not even popular?
i’m in the ‘burgh with a stick like a meat thermometer
you get a slice over the chips like tostitos with a hint of lime
now real’s (reel) on ice: no fishing line during wintertime
this sh*t is different, kid, i’m in my prime
you suck and gettin’ ate…sorta like a b*tch performin’ 69
this gun bars and name flips vers’ subpar and lame sh*t
you nothin’ but a f*cktard whose lunch starts with paint chips
i’m done rappin’ now * get your mans a f*ckin’ he*rs*
and when coronavirus 2 drops, holla at me for another verse

[round 1: real deal]
me?…shoot, i’m swell
but i see some people mad that i’m doin’ well like the new chappelle
it’s sticks and stones, let ‘em b*tch and moan
i hopped in the lions’ den like, “i could use a pelt”
holdin’ the .38 up like a gucci belt
now the fat lady’s singin’ on him: cue adele
when i heard farrell…i wasn’t too compelled
but he convinced lexx that this feud will sell
what in the bloomin’ h*ll!?
are you ‘k? ‘cause that’s off*the*wall nuts
i mean, dude’s a sh*ll
i’m not sayin’ you stupid, lexx luthor, but the truth is, well…
i think farrell (ferrell) was playin’, buddy, like the movie elf
let’s go
are you a threat? no
turn your headphones up, so y’all can hear this knife*edge chop…(*smack*) snap like a whitehead pop
then leave his breastbone crushed
steel shotty, get real sloppy
when i peel, you’d think we in milwaukee on some “let’s go, bucks” the way eric bled so (bledsoe) much!
you switched on me…now the switch on me
‘cause boy needs a redheaded step*beating
social distancing…nah, i’m on expedia, flight set up for next evening
just say the word, boy
we in them connecticut jets creeping
wit’ the cans out in public like feminists breast*feeding!
nah! go ‘head, everybody in the circle
no one around you is safe
who’s takin’ vegas bets? ‘cause i doubt you’ll escape
i got my dogs wit’ me, brought the hounds to your gates
now eric burdened (burdon) wit’ these animals like, “we gotta get out of this place!”
if you dope, then convince me
i’m not throwin’ dirt on your name ‘til i know that you’re six feet
you rode a wave off rowan…now you find yourself rowin’ up sh*t’s creek
different era, young maverick
i got a leg up
luke a (luka) padawan tryna go at nowitzki
if you go to get me a soda, you gettin’ soda popinksi’d!
i said, ya broad is a mess
i’m talkin’, she stress
she got my math and made a play
michigan*appalachian state: she tried to kick it, got blocked and upset

man, i’m done wit’ this bum
i’mma let the lil’ young legend give him a clip
let’s get it * we got a surprise for you here on ibattle
it’s your boy rd

[bonus round: trevor weller, jr.]
i said, yo
look, nothin’ that he said downstairs was true…like, at all, any of it
listen, i got you, farrell
i said, yo, i got your back, fam’
homie’s downstairs talkin’ ‘bout gats? man…
i can’t listen to somebody talk smack without any smack fans
i’ll bag dad for a rack
dawg food like the dad’s brand
homies at school will be like, “hey, trevor, my dad can beat up your dad.”
and i’m like, “yeah…and?”
rd the what? ha! homie got jokes
plus i know that he’s broke
a father and a gym teacher, and he still can’t show me the ropes
kids at school tell stories * “he went out for a pack of cigarettes one day” * ‘bout how he never was there
and how, at the end of it all, did i end up with a square?
“hey, son! it’s getting pretty litty. hit my jack when the game’s done.”
you can’t be a dad that’s hip if you’re old enough to break one
you’ve never been cool
lay off the keg of o’doul’s
you know what it’s like to get off for take your son to work day and still end up in school?
we understand…a father and a battler, we respect it
plus everything we do together is on facebook, so everyone knows he’s a dad
we get it!
battled on url against magic * it’s a classic! have you checked it?
but ask him about mackk myron…he magically forgets it
hey, farrell, don’t get me a soda
get me a new pop, ‘cause that’s what this amounts to
when you post stuff about us together on facebook, it’s about you
when you post my impressions on your platforms on social media, it’s about views
i’mma call up cortez’s son and beat the sh*t outta you!

- ibattle lyrics

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