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lirik lagu loe pesci vs. matter – don’t flop

[round 1: loe pesci]
like i’d show up at world dom and start airing things
i get paid to rap, last time i checked i wasn’t there to bang
he tried to bait me but didn’t phase me, i was prepared to win
the opera house ain’t the mansion, playboy, i wasn’t there to swing
fans asking ’em; “why you didn’t lash at him? crack ’em in the abdomen?”
i mean are you serious? look at math and them and how they mad at him
daylyt, look at math again and how you’re mad at him
’cause if math hadn’t swung, your battle with swave would’ve happened then
see, i’m glad i won every round and didn’t have to put a hand on him
knowing which of my punches hurt more if he’d rather do some f*ggot sh*t and have me jab at him than battle him
so eurgh, who you get for me this time? unanymous? done
“nah, he’s battling diz”
well, get me soul
they say; “he’s too big of a fan of you, son”
so without my approval they switched the names and gave me this new talentless bum
what up, dog?
i bumped your greasy spoon lp, or at least half of it, son
it’s not hot, dog, and no beef, but your new album is buns
is that your first album? you joking
at least you can tell your grandchildren the first and last time you dropped an album, you broke it
i mean that sh*t made me hate rap, i swear you can’t rhyme after
his face light up when he tells stories, he a campfire rapper
he put his disc on consignment at relics, and got banned right after
the record shops are black holes, theyre anti*matter
you charging what? three pounds for that cd, blood?
i skimmed through it, i wouldn’t hit repeat once
if you paid me with say three pounds of b.c. bud
yeah, the crowd show hometown love, but i guess someone didn’t tell you
it’s just you and the big show, looks like it don’t flop buddy system failed you
wait, this is the loser ya’ll are rooting for to win?
you’ll suffer heartbreak, kids, he’ll be losing all his limbs
savion glover his face and print my shoes into his skin
these timberland boots making sweet music with his chin
let’s swipe places, i’ll be the white racist, you’ll be the indian geezer
hopefully a doctor who can give himself a simple procedure
domino effect, get a shiv in his femur
he’d rather work in sheffield, delivering pizza!
sh*t, i’d rather work for fema, during katrina!
i feel like i’ve never been this evil
i come and dismember and k!ll this skinny wimpy vinnie diesel
and make you miss the preview to another sh*tty ridd*ck sequel
you little weasel
if looks could k!ll, you’d resurrect the dead like jim caviezel
you’re the reason this matchup’s sh*t and it ain’t sh*t to beat you
loe, why you acting like this sh*t’s beneath you?
matter, we’re in your hometown and people are p*ssed to see you
i give a sh*t you been through chemo!
pen*game, pesci in casino, minus getting buried by a ditch in reno
it’s about to get real ugly, like british people!
sometimes i feel like the fashion world don’t get me
for seven years me and virgil brought the kevlar jogging pants to [?]
now how many people you see rocking kevlar jogging pants, it’s trendy
[round 2: loe pesci]
bro, yesterday when i saw you i’m like; “i can’t believe you have a neck tat”
if you think of a place less wack to get that
after it was done, you looked at the f*cking tattoo artist was like “seriously? respect fam”
your mum looking like elizabeth the second
whole family can turn into lizards in a second
i ain’t sh*t
speaking of queens, my beef with elizabeth is petty
don’t p*ss me off for pennies
i’ve been lobbying to get that f*ckin’ lizard off our twenties
d*mn loe, you’re really sh*ttin’ on ’em heavy
i’m david icke wearing turquoise
i exert god
i’m david koresh and an atheist edge
sumerian agent connects got him painting his flesh
like a superfan behind the new england patriots’ bench
i’m here to wage a war, tell ’em to test my patience
ease back, these tags ain’t for sensory deprivation
i’m so fly, i send the swat here, send ’em out to get me
i can make a weapon out a lemon and a pepsi
make a bomb, king of the dot mag, an engine and some whiskey
i swear i hit the lotto when i’m generous
’cause if i’m going down, i’m bringing everybody with me
like i’m scared that he’d get a gun
before that, you’ll catch the google car up in area 51
you got matter next, what you scared about? the blades he carry ’round?
i disarm him like, “give me that swiss army knife”, now i’m getting mad
i stare him down and air him out, like he just farted in the lab
he blank out with the barrels out? them sh*ts are barely rounds
i feel like i’m playing russian roulette with darren brown
you lose to cats i inspired
you’re not even on soul’ calibre (soul calibur)
but now you step in the nightmare, and you facing the main character
his b*tch blew me and slid that oyster card, metro ticket
touched her in, touched her out, h*ll yeah, you bet i hit it
but she won’t be havin’ my kid though, trust, i know better, brethren
we ran a drill and had her tubes tied up like 7/7
if somehow it slipped through her legs and get to her eggs
and she wanna keep it?
i’ll find her, zangief piledriver
split up her head, feel a shift in her neck
before the sh*t disconnects
slipped discs in a mosque, cause a ripple effect
now the moment matter acts like he might actually pull sh*t
i’ll reenact what happened in woolwich
d*mn loe, i guess you’re really back on your bullsh*t
throw stones from your glass house, little prissy f*ggot
it’s like you got see*through walls, plus i missile brandish
watch his whole corner (coroner) kick back, i’m jimmy cannon
eagle to his dome, loe shatterin’ his crystal palace
him survivin’ this, some really bad odds
i’m thinkin’ john terry, english frank, at the million man march
shuffle and marlo, i got some really bad bars
but this is where the lyricism ends, and the sh*tty rap starts
[round 3: loe pesci]
remember when you left lunar c behind, ’cause he was holding you back?
you always treated him like a b*tch, with your chauvinist ass
i mean you’ve got most of the views and you’ve got most of the fans
your sk!lls must have made him retire or something, you never gave you a little homie a chance
besides that, the only thing i came to mention in leeds
is that the mls completely sh*ts on the premier league
i’m being sarcastic
you bald sp*ce cadet, i could tell you a hardhead
but are you here to sell gillette’s with a sharp edge
or boldly (baldly) lead the next generation of star trek?
[?] now you [?] yourself, so you don’t need to feel lonely and useless
he roll with savages, more than half his homies are ruthless
but it’s ironic, if your hair happens to grow you would lose it
or get your buzz cut, with your little national socialist movement
you messing with a young sugar ray leonard
hooded gray sweatshirt, couldn’t train better
book a date never
shook his frame, put in place, shouldn’t play clever
you could pull strings for haarp, you still wouldn’t reign (rain) terror
these ain’t the formulas they teach on blackboards
i never gave a f*ck about what the peons clap for
they feel pesh, this ain’t a sk!llset, it’s eons past yours
i’m on a recon platform
you want that hasselhoff beef, you gonna eat off that floor
your mother’s a junk zombie, she always feasting on brains
that b*tch was in trainspotting… she was the train!
any man that knows him and been to his pad is gladly chosen to sh*g his nan and have her blow them
i mean her ass is swollen, she fancies foursomes, had mad abortions
you can have a go without a condom long as you can handle weight like andy bolton
and she baldin’
the annunaki called him, studied his family and realized there’s no hope to man evolving
you’re not don’t flop’s king, that’s actually mad insulting
his crown is thinning, and in that round you were spitting, i actually heard your pattern baldin’
you think b*tches are back to stalk to him like he’s alec baldwin
with a hairline like the f*cking [?] at basket robbins
go three rounds, sure you can (shoryuken), i blanka shock ’em
maradona, hand of god ’em, allen ive’ [?] cross ’em
this round is like street fighter versus the car, i’m just here to practice on ’em
who here think matter is fly?
out of the girls
i didn’t think so
seriously, me here spitting three verses is all it took for matter to die
everybody knows it was just a matter of time

- dont flop

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