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lirik lagu the intruder (mandela catalogue) vs. the max headroom incident – rabi

[intro: announcer (rabi)]
rap battle
the intruder
versus
the max headroom incident
begin

[verse 1: the intruder (simplyrazzy) & warning screen (mr. tibbs)]
stop watching this. immediately heed the warning please
proceeding is prohibited. since you’ve no authority
hogging the broadcast like that seems a bit selfish
so here’s another hijacking; i’ll let myself in
i’ve been watching you, and i’ve been following
the only action that you’ve produced is me vomiting
you’ll catch the wave when you’re bad*mouthing coke
i’ll drown you in flow. you do not recognize the bodies
i break and enter to crack thе door, and your mind, too
hang you from the ceiling, like thе driveway door behind you
send prayers to gabe, but you’re one that he wouldn’t pay mind to
don’t bend over, just look behind you

[verse 2: the max headroom incident (metamachine)]
is this thing on? i’d like to interrupt this
you crack the doors at night? guess what, baby? i’m unhinged!
n0body’s scared of jpegs or whatever you set free
but your fans are still like: “oh no! they’re coming to get me!”
oh… not a monster but i’ll berate you, yo
makes sense you don’t got copies; you’ve no ways to alternate your flow
oh… met with the preacher and i let loose
she’s got that long face; call that maximum headroom
looking like an eminem sketch mixed with some drugged dude
i thought it was a vhs glitch, but no, it’s just you
you build up your releases and hype up crowds for that lame excuse
then, the fans are disappointed like: “who have i been praying to?”
[verse 3: the intruder (simplyrazzy)]
please tell me how you plan to hinder me
because i can’t even identify a way you would be hitting me
neutralize me? with a flyswatter as your weapon?
take my word: k!ll yourse*e*e** know your place; second
you broadcasted disgusting fetish play to millions
parents distraught at the sight of their missing infant’s innocence
the cops are out still looking, and i’m looking through your suspects
mister john r. mcdougall a**
they left the hands of the messenger to a crackpot
thinking you’re a rap god?
unknown identity? then, i’ll be leaving no traces
take this manchild down. 3,426 cases

[verse 4: the max headroom incident (metamachine)]
think you deal me mental damage, but your trash is weak
an *n*log parody, i don’t wanna hear it, m.a.d.tv
everything you said was garbled nonsense, but i’m not surprised
so, take advice from the respondents, learn on how to drop a rhyme
heathcliff pulled the trigger on himself; honest, i’d do the same
’cause listening to all your raps? i’d put the bullet through my brain
how could this chess piece man ever hope to terrify watchers?
when you’re shilling some cute plushies? only 25 do*o*o*o*o…
take a swatter if you think you’re fly, and leave you bleeding red
“the death of six” with crossed out eyes, so only you can see the x
and, here’s a tip for mandela county, so that the hurting stops
if tv’s rotting your brain away, then maybe turn it off
[outro: announcer (rabi)]
who won?
who’s next?
you decide
rap…

- rabi

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