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lirik lagu grind time now - f.l.o. vs. ness lee

[round 1: f.l.o.]
i’m cl-ssic, hope you been writing fantastic
best thing you wrote was bad checks and recipes for catfish
this gon’ be tragic ’cause when this fat b-st-rd p-sses his ashes gon’ need an elastic stretching casket
greetings you, dirty south heathen
welcome to oakland, now when the f-ck is you leaving?
they not believing what they seeing
agreeing to be a witness to the murder this evening of morgan freeman
put yo’ driving miss daisy -ss on front street, with ya’ buck teeth
ya’ all grown up now, huh buckwheat?
i heard ya’ baby moms a real t-st-cl–tester
and i’m an alphabet n-gg-, she wanted to f-ck so i let her
y’all could still stay together
and we could take turns putting d-ck in her mouth and ask the b-tch who taste better
see look, you don’t chase cheddar you taste cheddar
velveeta got you looking like a mixed-together pastor troy and mason betha
lactose intolerant and softer than soy
you must be ludicrous to think you f-cking with this big boy

[round 1: ness lee]
now when i rock, you either hear cheers or a clear silence
when you rock it’s weird ’cause people just stare and appear violent
so i end you here you minus
i make sure you go out with a big bang like i’m peggy bundy’s hair stylist
your belly getting bigger there giant? well it isn’t weird science my n-gg- just quit your frigging beer diet
but never mind all that, let’s just get clear to the facts
this here should be cl-ssed as some type of trick mirror match
see we share a striking resemblance
your face look like mine, if god decided to strike it with lightning and vengeance
and spite me by sticking me in a smiling position, using my teeth to stop fan blades and idling engines
you look like jesus was tryna make me on a time limit but quit it in five minutes like “jeez i’m too tired to finish”
and god was tripping like, “this can’t be in my image, i’m highly offended
jesus christ, you gotta quit tryna be different”
so let’s run down our similarities:
black as h-ll, broke, funny, beard, heavy- heavier than me
and lush must do therapy apparently he set this battle up for me to fight my insecurities

[round 2: f.l.o.]
see i be on it, i try to whip my opponent
but that name-flip sh-t, i could do it if i wanted
um, it’s necessarily necessary to make a necessity outta ness
and kick the loch ness out of its nest and flee in the lex from eliot ness
i don’t know if it’s ’cause you fat or you grey, but at other people birthday parties you literally take the cake
catch him poolside at the hotel by the pink flamingos
eating flamin’ hot cheetos, rocking crocodile speedos
amigo, you so soft you jiggle
and you could eat a watermelon like a vlasic pickle
i dare you to do a push-up
suck in the fat on the back of yo’ neck motherf-cker and try to look up
you got a george foreman grill, and a george foreman grill
looking just like the over-the-hill shaquille o’neal
now explain go ahead, you so lame and so dead
you complain with no bread, it’s t-pain with no dreads
i’m not easy, believe me
’cause comparing us is like comparing a young jesus, to a young jeezy

[round 2: ness lee]
i spit body to the bags
you do comedy in your rap but your comedy’s trash and your raps is comedy, in fact
we’re laughing at you not with you, check everybody in the back
when you rocking they all act like they swatting at a gnat
you should probably try rhyming when you’re rhyming
h-ll you, would probably rhyme ‘rhyming’, with ‘rhyming’
i weave my patterns and schemes like it’s a string attached
my g the last crazy scheme you had made you think you could freaking rap
your jokes is funny but your approach is ugly so i spit how you’d do it if you did it like you supposed to done it
you look like a roasted onion
like somebody smoked a funyun, and thrown it in a toaster oven
like five to nine cats in a grind time chat request that i might ask why do rhyme like that?
so how come that, mister round and black, can’t figure out how to make a vowel sound match?
and i ain’t wanna type you up on youtube to try to study you to realize you sucked, especially when you rhyme with lush
but you ain’t spit a wack verse in a minute, i ain’t lying but
i meant an actual minute, that’s funny ’cause my time is up

[round 3: f.l.o.]
you not trapping, pimping, or cadillac’ing
if you hopped in a cadillac all four tires would flatten
now my reaction is not to be capping but i can’t fathom what happen when tracy chapman start rapping
you should migrate west, to the depths of bangladesh and immediately invest in exercise and bed rest
’cause even with thinness, you still need fitness
you got a pair of heavy br–sts where most men would have a chest
you see i’m quite shocked
and in a mood ’cause i gotta battle dude from the uncle ben’s rice box
you see i’m sick in so many ways
to match my wit, you gon’ need 3000 andre’s
and a bunch of padres, that’s sipping gin bombay
that’s eating nacho grandes, with that n-gg- gandhi
you gon’ need a better airbag than that n-gg- kanye the day you squeeze yo’ fat black -ss in a little hyundai
no need for g-y jokes, the pimp do it big
but you pimp hoes that look like ajaxx in a f-cking blonde wig

[round 3: ness lee]
this ain’t a battle, that ain’t what we calling it people
and why mention ajaxx again, ain’t he already beat you?
lush one is a monster, and jump off was proof
but since you was his partner, he might as well jumped off a roof
he woulda been best off to just rock with plex rock
instead he got the less tall and jet-dark s-rawk
so what i’ma call he is the only dude worse than me from the wrc
and lush was like “jeez, am i stuck on the wrong team?
two-on-two but naming myself ‘one’ was a smart thing?”
you had one of them tall t’s, size quintuple lrg
and it still could not cover your stomach at all chief
it looked like a tub of lard was tucked in some small jeans, one tug of the drawstring woulda flooded to palm springs
and all of your production is stuck on the wrong key
plus i’m southern so jee money’s punishment’s on me
listen, you not fat but you a chin away from it
got mad at jee money ’cause he hit the g-y b-tton
and tried to switch ya’ game up but it ricocheted cousin ’cause you was screaming all in his face but you didn’t say nothing
but wait for a minute, he only said the bay had a g-y percentage
’cause ay, you’re in it

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