Tekst piosenki
[Round 1: Charron]
It’s Canada’s favorite roid head, the skinny kids’ rival
They disregard your lack of bars cuz you’re literally their idol
I don’t care if your arm strong, you’re a bitch that’s on a cycle
Like Lance Armstrong; it’s only right I strip you of your title
Back in Scotia they filmed scraps
He didn’t punch or even strike
He just yelled from the back, like “Sucka free, get hyped!”
Just ‘cause dude’s buffer, you’d think he’d chuck a decent right
Nah you’re Bruce Buffer; you just talk before other people fight
You act tough with a crew but never would scrap dolo
Funny you’re from the dark side but can’t use your hand solo
You’re an insecure little girl, I think that it’s obvious
You portray this image
To hide the fact that you’re a bitch with no confidence
I’ll battle you in an handicap stall
And relinquish your dominance
‘Cause you’re such an attention whore you can’t even shit without fishing for compliments
Rip his heart out, enjoy the rush
I’m usually tense but I ace it when noise erupts
Your handicap crops won’t amount to jack
Where’s the toilet brush
The King’s getting dumped in Queen Elizabeth
That’s a royal flush
I’m in an aggressive mood and I’ll step to you
End this dude when you poo
On the internet with views
Summon every special move up in Tekken 2
The king dies on the toilet; I’ll Elvis Presley you!
You know what rhymes with sucka free? Ducking me
Lately you’ve been crying in battles
I think you need a hug from me
I want to blow my brains out, I don’t care what’ll happen
Sometimes I get down on myself like Marilyn Manson
Shut up bitch, speaking of Marilyn, this roid head thinks he’s tough and rowdy
Since you juice I’m cut throat behind bars like the Suns finale
You recycled with Math and Shotty, didn’t think we could tell?
“He mad right now”, “embrace that shit”
You’re just grabbing schemes from the shelf
If all you do is reuse concepts you’re in need of some help
Your name should be history ‘cause you have a strange way of repeating yourself
His girl fucks for money, can’t afford her rent
She gave you multiple STD’s and there’s more you’ll get
She treats in like Maple Leaf’s coacher when you’re erect
Pat burns, ‘cause she’ll ride your peter
If you give that whore a check
Casket, extra space, your brother stuffed in your resting place
You’ll be sleeping with your family like Kevin Gates
Them roods got you shriveling, deflates his fucking scrotum
Pat’s balls are so small Tom Brady wants to throw them
They like him better than me more, he’s overhyped
Since Patrick sways these people, we’ll see how it goes tonight
Nah, they like him better Demy Moore, he’s overhyped
It’s Patrick Swayze; people ‘bout to see a ghost tonight
You win off crowd control, make your bitch ass stutter
My punches connect with the fans like Hitman’s brother
And you said you want to fuck me. Who wouldn’t? Come on, I’m fucking hot as hell bro
Thinking your a modern day composer
You compensate with cocky swag
‘cause all you got is great composure
You wanted me to grow? I’ll body bag this joker
Now I’m straight shitting on him; potty training’s over
[Round 1: Pat Stay]
That Tom Brady line… what if I did do steroids and my balls shriveled up? Who gives a fuck?
When’s the last time you heard a girl be like
“Girl, he got the biggest nuts”
Like, wouldn’t that just make my dick look bigger
And hang lower?
As far as the game goes when this blade I throw goes into your apple, it’s game over
From the cracks in the pavement I rose, a lion amongst sheep
I am the one, the front lead and only will there ever be one me
Try on my crown but you’ll never become king
Let me reiterate: you imitate, I innovate
Separating the word „dickrider” from the word „inspire”
I am the greatest. The chain’s material, the title’s a statement
A stone my name is engraved in
Welcome to my home, you’re a guest in this house
For too long have I let you just lounge on this sectional couch
It’s like I’ve adopted you, you’ve adopted everyone’s style
So since you my child I’ma rinse out your mouth with bars
I’m coming in swinging, sonny, listen
I’m about to bury you
King of the Dot champ versus the King of the Dot tramp
I’ma trample through
You begged for this, now I’m bagging you
Demand you demanded, this man’ll dismantle you
Yeah they cheer for you
But if there were no chants there’d be no chance for you
Helicopter propeller chopper; the fans carry you
Dog, It’s got to be painful
Anal fisting; you’re about to get that ass handed to
I’m not comparing you to animals
When I say this cat’s unbearable
He’s boring, mechanical
Like a mythological horse dragon you
Ride so many bandwagons there should be
A horse dragging you
Was the proud nerd that embraced your image
And that’s why they were fans of you
But years later he’s letting the cannon shoot
Now they’ll no longer stand for you
Understandable, cause you don’t have to be Joe Budden to hear he abandoned you
He’ll be so confused staring through the barrel trying to fit
Magazines and bananas through
He wouldn’t dare shoot in the forest wearing an orange camp flannel suit
Boy, if I start slamming you on the floor
It’ll leave him in a state of horror
And sit his ass down like Orlando
You hear me? I can’t stand this dude
Fucking man handle you
Shove a pair of antlers through his cap like Camp Caribou!
I reference a children’s show cuz that’s what I have to cater to
Now watch me lift up his skirt
Like the opening credits in Sailor Moon
Dog, you said these lines in all seriousness:
„My squad supply in Bolivia
If I got the gat, I’ll pop the nine and get rid of ya”
Really bro?
You gonna buck the heater you little fucking weiner?
I could go on for days…
„Ooo fuck with me, headshot, buck fifty”… uh, really?
Could’ve sworn you’re the most nervous little runt in this city
What hood are you from? Jane and Flinch?
But that’s what they cheer for right now
So I get it, „buck fifty”; he just hears what the crowd likes and it goes from his ear to his mouth
Boy, you got shit backwards! Dog, look me in my pupils
Corey, stop it. You’re a fucking harmless fucking loser
„It’s Charron, I’ll clutch the Ruger
Yeah I may be a fucking loser, but I started from the bottom like Drake and now I’m the future”
Bro you are literally the biggest fucking dick-sucking, wave-riding, trend-following, brown-nosing leech
To ever exist, just fucking accept the cards you were dealt
Stop copying everyone else
It’s not you Corey, have some goddamn confidence in yourself
See all these Smack battles you watch
Got you acting all ratchet
'Til this hatchet I got winds up in your side and half of your body pops out like a Jack-in-the-Box
'Til somebody pops him for mocking
These American idols that he clearly misunderstood
Pallbearers crying, his body they carry under wood
I quote: „See I’m just skinny and smart
I don’t think that I’m hard
I know I’m a nerd so I live with that card”
Ya’ll tripping right now
If you decrypted those bars I spit at the start
See I intertwined every line in genius-ly
Strategically picked him apart
And exposed the contradicting
Carbon copy, piece of shit that you are!
[Round 2: Charron]
He flipped that Tom Brady bar, I’m like that’s okay
Talking about big balls, I’m like okay, that shit’s gay
But real talk, I’m the underdog
We talking football, I’m supposed to get killed by Patrick Stay
This like Seattle on the 1 yard line: they gonna’ be surprised when you pass away
He making fun of those gun bars, okay, fuck it I’ma flip this
You had a line about Joe Budden, that’s nothing, I’ma rip this
Cause real talk, this’ll be a total slaughter
It’s nothing, just forget this
Besides you I look like 5’9 but you’ll get more than a crooked eye if you butt into my business
You’re scared to battle in URL
Ducking all events on the calendar
When you fled Marv then took off
You lost respect from every battler
I stood up to Suge in NY, they had respect for the challenger
You would’ve lost in New York cause you ran from Marv, like Kevin McCallister!
You declined battles on Smack
You could’ve made some decent money
You battle in Canada cause
We’re the only place that thinks you’re funny
You headline –
LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M KILLING YOU RIGHT NOW
LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M FUCKING KILLING YOU!
You headline every World Domination
But it straight up seems to bug me
How you going to dominate the world when you’re too afraid to leave your country?
You and Day were supposed to be in Cali
You hide with the throne
You’re not a real champ
Until you make someone die on the road
You rely on reaction, you can’t land lines on your own
You’re a cordless phone cause you won’t get reception when you step outside of your home
He’ll talk about raping me like
„I want that weiner, Oscar Mayer”
And the crowd reacts like that’s some Supa Hot Fire!!!
He smoking crack ’til he spaz out (spaz out)
Patty giving neck ’til he pass out (pass out)
I swear to God, all I do is black out (black out)
You be smoking rock, get up out that crack house!
Nah fuck that, you’re a fiend that sparks
You want to talk about Jane and Flinch?
Alright let’s do some T Dot shit if he is smart
Cause real talk, you’re a crackhead, you’re a fiend that sparks
This crackhead’s getting his chain snatched
Like DMX at Regent Park
My formula won, Danica Patrick can take that
They claiming that Patrick raw
There’s an avalanche on his face mask
I will take your fortune if they react to your lame craft
Light up the square with wordplay cause Pat doesn’t say jack
Claim that you need a bigger name, I’m really just puzzled
I beat Clips, Magic, Ars
Their views to yours are literally doubled
You think I’m unknown? Good thing I’m quick to rebuttal
Guess that brought in someone nameless to kill you like Twist versus Shuffle
After I want Madchild, Bender, I’m ready to hunt now
I got a lot in store
All my Canadian targets about to get shut down
You wet willy’d Jimmy, but gave ICE daps for his shit
Against Math you said your African hype man was legit
You want to bang Daylyt? You’re on your Kim Kardashian shit
You’re a fake ass diva who rides every black person’s dick
You’re unemployed and live at home, future’s not bright
He’s in his parents’ basement moonwalking all night
Practicing bars like „I’m a real dude, I poked my homie at his funereal, twice”
Until his mom walks in his room while he writes
Like „You’re 29 years old, Patrick. The fuck you doing with your life?”
Come on Patrick, you old plumber
Cause in battles you’re the bouse, celebrity type-ish
Always claiming you’re tough, looking fresh in some nice kicks
But in songs you’re a junky telling kids to never be like this
Which proves you’re an insecure bitch going through an identity crisis!
You smoke crack through the cans
You and Jeff would sip Sprite with
So every hit you take is just a reflection
Of how pathetic your life is
Back in Scotia he dropped the n-bomb when he was yakked
Your brother Peter got beat up by black people, it’s a fact
You just stood there, he didn’t scrap
That’s how you treat your family?
What’s „Sucka Free” about that?
You should get into acupunctures
Since you ain’t eating off of rap
So you can finally make a living
Off of stabbing people in the back
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