Grind Time Now - E Ness vs Iron Solomon lyrics

[Round 1 - Iron Solomon] I ain't gon' rap 'bout your background or origin Cause I don't have to rap 'bout the band now to score a win And I ain't gon' put Diddy in my lines to chalk him out... Who the f** am I kidding, that's all I'm gonna talk about! That MTV show we all thought was a sham But your no-name wack rappers were the fraudulent scam Only kept you on the show cause you fought with your hands Couldn't make one single good song with your fam And Puff got the nerve to call you a band? Your sh** flopped, you get dropped, you call him your man? You quit rap to pitch crack, you call that a plan? I've seen the piff bags this kid has, you call that a gram? So now he wants to face the greatest trying to get a million views in But even if he win tonight the kid'll still be losing Puff a paper gangster and I bet he really screwed him Whatever dough he make tonight, Diddy's still recouping See, for you, signing with Puff, was like getting f**ed by Lexington Steele But Ness Lee still squealed like "Thanks Puff, that's one heck of a deal!" Singing "Do wah diddy, diddy, dum diddy do" But you owe Diddy 'til Diddy's done dicking you So now he begging Puff for a second chance at the game "I'll learn to sing, I'll dance in the rain, at least put me in Danity Kane!" Then he make a blog complaining and b**hing about different sh** Begging Puff for his walking papers but Diddy won't let him dip So now he's back to claiming Bad Boy and swinging from Diddy's dick Just to come to battle this s**er had to get a permission slip See Ness walk to Brooklyn, see Ness walk home See Ness braid Sean's hair and fetch Sean's combs See Ness' ashy kneecaps and scuffed up calves From kneeling down, blowing smoke up Puff's a** See, Ness makes music that's blunt guts trash So when he played his two hits for Puff, Puff pa**ed So now your whole life is a big fat mess Dropping mixtapes that couldn't have an impact less Getting food stamps mailed to your chick's address Still sad cause you failed on them gym cla** tests You a tax write-off, Puffy gets that check Then spends your advance on a big black Lex Get a fitted hat next, that look tick-tack fresh To match his Sean John shirt that says "No b**h Ass Ness" So he googled nerdy white battle rapper, thinking he got my number Not knowing he'd been watching Soul Khan all summer No one's scared of you Vanessa, it's not no Wonder You about as real as Robert Downey, in Tropic Thunder You silly big willy, you faker than Milli Vanilli You don't really think you a k**er, do you Magilla Gorilla? See this Jew could face off with Adolph and still not take a loss So I don't need to let the eight spark to outline him in gray chalk I hope you came equipped with a plate fork Cause what I'm delivering is straight talk I usually drive to Junior's, but this sh** is a cakewalk. [Round 1 - E. Ness] I told myself if he said one word about my fight with Fred I'd stick a f**in' Rambo knife in his head, yeah Cause ain't no way this cracker getting this bread I'mma long-dick and drop-kick his b**h out the bed, yeah So it's me against the great white hype With bright lights on South Beach, that's fight night This time y'all better have my f**ing mic right Cause when I kick a f**ing hole through his chest it's night-night So what your life like? Cause for the right price, I'mma do him like Suge did Vanilla Ice-Ice Let him go, f** it you never know Cause when you skip town, I'm still around, I'm letter O I'll call dap and doe like it's John McEnroe I'm about to serve his a** back to the white rapping show You've been cruising for the bruising, I've come to this conclusion You picked me out to be the one to give you this contusion This is not an illusion, so there's no confusion f** you, your man and the entire movement f** it, the day you was born, let's get to it You was hoping the airplane crashed that I flew in So you wouldn't have to face me, but after this they gon' hate me For baking imitation Slim Shady Solomon, how many swords you've been swallowing? Let me find out it's my name you've been hollerin' Cut off his oxygen, Sugar Ray Robinson, I'm Allen Iverson Cross him out his Wally Moccasin Keep your f**ing mouth shut, I'll shoot your mama house up And g**n that b**h cause I know she don't get out much The battle sh** is ours And you know the loudest one in the room gon' be the coward Pushin' up flowers, pullin' on sour 'Bout smack this little Backstreet Boy from out his trousers Wowser, while they give me Doogie Howser I'mma let the uzi holla at his medulla oblongata Tell Andy Milonakis I'm shootin' in his pockets Like I'm shooting for the rockets Put two up in his noggin, he knew I was a problem But f** he ain't train hard You so f**in' wack I don't have to play the race card To keep it real you wasn't even on my radar When it's all known the only way you'll perform is at the gay bar I'll be at the car lot, sh**tin' on this mallcop When time share, I'll be at Time Square when the ball drops You had your run son but this is where it all stops I ain't wastin' no time, I know a soft spot I'll chop your fat a** up into tupperware And walk the streets of New York like I don't f**ing care I got the hawk and the revolver like a buccaneer I'll get to cuttin' n***as up in here like a musketeer See, you lame f**s always say the same stuff It never change up, think it's a game 'til them thangs bust Just like when Mayweather f**ed Sugar Shane up Except you get the same exact feeling from a c**aine rush Fall back, he ain't all that Before his face run smack into my baseball bat I'll have him leaking out his baseball cap With more skids than a race car track The only time he travel is when he go to battle Over 99 percent of the time, he's playing Scrabble But if I see you up in Philly I ain't woppin' at you I just say "Look, there go the worm from the rotten apple." Yeah I got that cheesecake, let the desert eag quake Clap until his knees break, like I won a sweepstakes Got Philly chopped like it's all about a cheesesteak But just one week in them streets will make you see straight Ain't no f**in' hold on, stay and get stole on And get your f**in' roll on and so fourth and so fourth Push your f**in' top back, T-Pain hot pack b**h I want my spot back, ain't nothing that could stop that [Round 2 - Iron Solomon] I feel like I'm at the gym and there's this little kid that I'm boxing with Who's about to piss his pants to get a chance to mix up mittens with Solomon And I'm holding back cause I know the fact this one good hit'll demolish him I even let him win a little to give the kid a good sense of accomplishment Like "Good job Elliot, you really did good sh**!" When really I'm thinking "Your breath smells like Big Foot's dick." And as far as me getting fat, you know the reason I'm gaining weight? Cause my hunger's doing what these other loser's training ain't And your s*ut, she just gave me brain And her mug looks like a baby ape So this gut was my saving grace cause it covered her crazy face So you damn f**in' right I stay fatter than the next dude And I'mma keep eating rappers, it don't matter what the venue If it's beef that you after, I'll add it to the menu But Ness, you a snack I'll take a nap and then digest you See Jin was my appetizer, now I'm eating my next course But people keep asking what am I competing with Ness for I say "It's easy to lap this guy, so to me this is just sport." And your career on tracks has died so I'm beating a dead horse E Ness, you seem stressed, your career has regressed You washed up and depressed, you need to press reset You drink beer and chief cess, you pop pills and eat X Boppin' your CD Ness, what we press is eject From who*es giving him free s**, on tour living in freakfests Now you're living in p-jects, P.Os giving him pee tests From just getting your feet wet, to dry snitchin' to detects Like Jigga man Jay-Z said "You're living with some regrets." Bad Boy destroyed your career, G Dep Now you surround yourself with queers, Key West Someone convinced you to battle here, Drect By putting funny little things inside your ear, T-Rex I know your people warned you Ness "Whitey's ill Och, beware." But I'm going easy on you Ness, you mine as well not be scared Plus I'm gonna win either way Ness, you mine as well not prepare They just wanna see me anyway Ness, you mine as well not be there See this kid is an illusion to me, but on the internet he's googling me Take your Blackberry out b**h, twitter that you're losing to me Cause they're saying you're standing there for nothing was just wrong Cause I guess Michael Jordan always needs someone to dunk on And if I ain't the Jordan of the sh**, there's no one that's closer So I'll just go like this, and you go like this, and pose for the poster But if you was LeBron James, then I'd be Dwayne Wade We both graduated at the same time from the same grade He was at the head of the cla**, on TV with celebrity acts But that champion ring was one thing you never could grasp I was slightly rated lower, had to fight to gain exposure And that might have made me slower but now I have taken over And I'm down in Miami's Heat, living my boyhood dreams And for you done what I've done, you'd have to join my team You a pissed off pipsqueak floating up sh**'s creek The goals that you've had for your life, I reached this week See, my career's beginning to grow, yours beginning on it's decline In here I sit on the throne, you sittin' on the bidet Because you ain't stackin' no more paper, your crap just got flushed You ain't droppin' no new sh**, your a** is washed up [Round 2 - E. Ness] From Philly, Pistolvania, to live at Grizzlemania With a bag full of dust I bought all the way from Cambria From 5th street, hotter than fish grease So you f** with D.M.C. who dick you on this week? More powerful than Soloman, stronger than King Sampson He got a following, f** it I wouldn't chance it I cut the music back up, I kept jammin' Like I ain't hear him talking 'bout money, them n***as scrambling I got word when I was in the spot gambling How they hype his white a** up like he the champion But what you really lookin' for is a companion Somebody he can show how to fish and go camping I can write out swiggly, slow jam 'em Catch him with the right hand and reprogram him To beat me, you gotta worship the Devil I mean really know that n***a on a personal level You can call me Magneto, how I work with the metal We can settle out of court, pitchfork and a shovel They told me $2,500, I said nah I ain't want it But f** it, I'll fly down just to punch him in the stomach Push a couple bu*tons, keep the money comin' I ain't chasin' youngin round, that n***a 100 miles and runnin' You get it? That n***a Young Miles scared For the fact that I'm a f**in' werewolf out here And I'm chewin' silver bullets, I advise you not to pull it Now them funny punchlines ain't gon' work here, will it? Kap I warned y'all, why you bring this cornball? All way down Miami just to get his head torn off I know you really want to call me a n***a But you won't cause if you do it'd be a one-hitter quitter Go and speak that bullsh** on Twitter I'mma ball you up and roll you in the Schuylk** River f** he think he John Wayne? n***a it's LeBron James And times changed, I'm playing with the Heat and that's the mindframe And I'm smoking haze, county called Dade with Dwayne Wade I don't think we on the same page So I'm teaching you a lesson, this a 2-11 So I'm shooting in the direction of your little rooting section It's sad but it's true, you mad cause you poo Me losing to this Jew'll be the last thing I do It's the scab on the sore, the a** on the horse All you do is talk sh** and peel off when it's war It's big sh**, Terminator part 4 Bullets through his car door, fold him like cardboard You wanna get hardcore? But you a soph*more I'll pull out the deuce-deuce, Hit 'em with a hard four For dickeating every rapper in sight This the 40-year old virgin looking back at his life Trying to gamble when you lost, now he pa**ing the dice But you can add a couple more hickeys after tonight Don't talk about me getting choked out That'll get you mowed out Found with dick up in your mouth up in the dope house [Round 3 - Iron Solomon] So it wasn't Drect, it was Kap that was the Grind Time boss that was calling you $2,500? That's all that they offered you? If Tyler Perry produced Shrek, they'd probably cast you Ness Cause you look like a fat Ninja Turtle with two necks You like a cross between RuPaul, and a cue ball So they take sticks to his face the second he steps in a pool hall See you acting bigger but this action figure's too small What I'm flipping gonna kick him into a box like foosball Far as gangsters, you the biggest b**h of the century This ain't even my verse, I'm just reading the words to his Wikipedia entry It also said, you work at 7/11, at age 9 had s** with your reverend And Lloyd Mathis was born in 1977 You were a 70's baby? And you 33 now? You know where real rappers careers should be when they're 33? Wow! When Nas was 33, he premiered Hip-Hop Is Dead Now Ness is 33, his career in hip-hop is dead When Jay was 33, Hov worked to build the Blueprints When Em was 33, he'd sold 30 million units And Biggie Smalls status as a legend's quite clear And when he was 33, he'd been dead for 9 years And in 33 A.D., Jesus and Judas died So in his 33rd year, E. Ness gets crucified So now you can finally see through Jesus' eyes How to be on the losing side of getting beat by a Jewish guy Now y'all tell me which one would seem like a huge surprise? Seeing a genius get stupefied or watching this geezer get euthanized See I should whip yo a** worse, but this geezer back hurt So since I'm in my prime and you've peaked and past yours I'mma do some old-school sh**, how MCs of past worked And I'mma need the crowd's help, y'all repeat my last words See, E. Ness got signed to Bad Boy by Diddy (Diddy) But he don't make that real hip-hop like Biggie (Biggie) So his whole rap catalog amounts to failure (Failure) Y'all think I'm winning this battle right now say "Hell yeah!" (Hell yeah) You know that feeling deep down inside while I spit my quotes? Like you're the only one on the outside, of an inside joke? That's cause this my throne, nah, this my home I got mini-mes who would slaughter you, you couldn't diss my clones I know some spitting pythons who be getting they rhyme on Way better than E. Ness, my list is six guys long The six men who recite songs better than you is Mysonne And the top five are Dylon, Dylon, Dylon, Dylon, and Dylon Battling me in Grind Time dawg is like facing Neo in Zion I'm like some brand new linoleum, a fresh can of krylon I'm them two turntables young Primo had his eye on I'm the first time anyone turned Rakim's mic on And as far as up-and-comers, I've followed them all And honestly dawg you'd get abolished by Hollow Da Don You couldn't trade words with Aye Verb, Okwerdz or Pa**wurdz You'd get defeated from Concieted, demolished by Dizaster (Even though he's a b**h) You ain't nice as Madness, that's why you mad Ness Compared to Arsonal, you horrible, don't try to match wits And that don't even get to include Clips, Math Nocando, X-Fact, Thesaurus to Illmac Loaded Lux, I add the total up and you dead last Right after Jae Millz, and MOOK's b**h a**, easy! [Round 3 - E. Ness] They like "Your majesty, we need another strategy We duplicate his style then try to mix it in with Ca**idy's" They got the nerve to think the sh** gon' work actually Catastrophe, now his whole career is a tragedy I'm stuck with what I'm stuck with, cause I don't s** dick Still write Puff sh**, but I ain't with the f** sh** And motherf** an album, my name still good I still walk around the hood with my chains like I should It's Slingshot, I wouldn't change if I could Representing me unit with my name on the wood You could team up with Okwerdz, Dirtbag, and Soul Khan You still wouldn't blow with an Eminem co-sign I cop a squat and take sh** on your goal line You wake up from a coma and walk straight into a clothesline Took 8 weeks just to write that trash? Rip the pages out your notebook and wipe my a** Smear the sh** all in your face and say "You like that gra**?" Chain swinging like Pacquiao, and it's lightening fast Y'all ashamed of y'all real name Cause that's why y'all n***as real lame Cause all you do is dick-eat, bag-bite and steal game But you can take your best shot cause I don't feel pain We gon' still be in southern California, it's gon' still rain Hit 'em with the k**-shot, way up on the hilltop You ain't been on fire for awhile and I'm still hot Nah, I don't deal rocks, I be in the chill spot With highs so my lil' n***as suave when it still pop This what you laughin' for? This what you askin' for? The .44 turn Drew Carrey to Drew Barrymore Sharp as a thumbtack, kick him in the nutsack And use it as a flap to keep the dust out his bu*t-crack You think it's all gun talk? Think it's all birds? Think it's all metaphors? Think it's all words? Two major record deals, workin' on my third I got a 9th wonder catalog that n***as ain't ever heard This f*ggot wear gla**es, so f** the scare tactics Y'all lookin' at the next contestant on Fear Factor So from this point on, and here after He should be B.F.Fs with the StairMaster It's been awhile since I got in the gym, calisthenics See how much fat I could trim Got your back against the wall, I got my back to the wind He gained 700 pounds, I'm still fatter than him My b**hes wouldn't look at you, probably throw a hook or two When god made weirdos, he threw the f**in' book at you I know your folk back home, they was pushin' you But deep down inside you know I end up cookin' you Now pick another route cause you never had clout And while we're on the subject let's talk about his spouse I'll f** her in mouth, f** her in the house I'm skeeting on the living room, bustin' on the couch I'm the one she f**in' when she says she's goin' out We even got this s** tape you don't know about It go right stroke, left stroke East coast, fresh coast The b**h s** me off so long she got strep throat Ay yo I'm super disrespectful This .38 special put this chump underwater and his daughter in a pretzel n***as in my city wanna see me take an L Cause they can't f** with me, they just want to see me fail They jealous of me cause they should've never fell In the gristle while we flippin' nickles in the wishing well And tell that chump Pa**wurdz, I'mma have the last words I dot I's and cross T's, Jamal Mashburn