Exercising my style, I’m absurd
Send these Princeton birds back the fuck to their suburbs, word
These P-Unit emcees trying to challenge me?
I valiantly defend my throne, show 'em how my talent be
Known to dominate in any time or space
With them complicated rhyme debates I’m dropping at your momma’s place
Jacking your fan base, here, let me translate:
Your classmates are telling me I squashed your ass like pancakes
You can’t take me, yo, you really gon' start this?
The monarchist con artist known to bomb hardest
Fuck your wack battle rap
Like Shaq I’ll call your flimsy ass a Cadillac, and I’m a brick wall so I ain’t having that
When I step to plate you best expect the great
Never hesitate, get ready Nate, you fuckin' with a hip hop heavyweight
Respect this, or I’ll give your moms a pearl necklace
Calling out 108’s a muthafuckin death wish
Take you to my fortress of torture and slit your vocal chords
Watch the rope absorb around your throat until you choke some more
I’m smokin Robert Moore cuz his mom’s a whore
Fuckers wanted war, then respect my orders, I’m a commodore
You’re dead buddy, I’d come to Princeton just to leave your head bloody
But I saw your facebook picture and you been ugly
I can’t believe a kid with no intestine thinks that he can beat me
Yeah, you heard me bitch, just hope you never meet me
Leave you in a hearse while I curse out your kind
It’ll be worse than the time I first heard your wack nursery rhyme
THREE little bitches waited THREE months to drop THREE tracks
That left you stupid cunts flat on your backs
But yo, I really can’t decide which one’s wacker
Out of a whitewashed black man and a silly ass cracker
I’ve heard all your songs, Nate, but man I’m still skeptical
And Grayscale’s rhymes belong in a trash receptacle
I’ll sever your seminal vesicle, so that you’ll never get laid
It’ll be far worse than losing your intestine in eighth grade
Be very afraid, cuz MC Plátano’s relentless
Comprehend this, I’ll end your life in just one sentence
And I ain’t got a whole lot to say ‘bout Rob Moore
Except he knocked on Prod’s door asking for the cock raw
It’s a shame Mr. Nathan has to eat out of a bag
Cuz now I feel bad for whoopin his ass for calling me a fag
But I’ll do it, and yo, this kid’s like 5’2’’
When you’re staring at my fuckin' chin, what you gonna do?
Come on, Nate, you’re mad short, think I won’t fuck your mother
In front of your whole fam while you and Bobby suck each other
Man, fuck Grayscale and fuck Prodigal
Battling me, you gotta be messed up in the head like robbing hospitals
These clown ass Princeton emcees? I don’t respect 'em
'Cuz they can’t control the shit they’re dropping like Nate Domingue’s rectum, muthafucka...