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lirik lagu grind time now - ness lee vs illmaculate

[round 1: ness lee]
dirtbag dan got a little b-tt-hurt
he figured one word could p-ss me off
a little, but hurts
this is absurd ’cause i know your history chump
you little punk nerd
so when i dig enough dirt
y’all a be digging up dirt
you freaking f-ggot
a jab’ll put your teeth in gr-ss so fast we think you had the easter rabbit’s eating habits
but him, he’s a savage
lush, i said i need a challenge
not a freaking battle with a man that reached jesus status
how can i be prepared to make this battle even fair?
look at his evil stare it’s like i’m not even here
i take a step, he beat me there ’cause he done leaped a year and-
i ain’t even see you there!
you need a chair
ay lush, you see this b-m he’s comfortably 120 comes up to my knees if you put him in front of me son
funny like what do want from me?
so you want me to jump ugly and run up on buck bundy start running his lunch money?
you two foot geek, you ain’t thug, what you gon’ do to me
the only thing that you will swing is your feet in a booster seat
you’ll get illusion z’ed into a lucid dream viewing sheep and moving z’s
you would think a cartoon was ‘sleep
see him on the net you figure ill is that dude
like he’s giving kids the business so he’s k!lling that dude
till you witness him in the flesh with them little–ss shoes
and he’s spitting it at you
you thinking ‘isn’t that cute?’
little illy attended a black school and got victimized by the skinniest kid in the cl-ssroom
he’d steal your pencils and your p-sses to the frigging bathroom
hold ’em this high and you’d be jumping like ‘give ’em back dude!’
i bet you record in a little–ss booth
how tall are you in feet, like a little past two?
your favorite time of day is like a little past 2:00
you got a short history ‘mac, a little past too
so you don’t need ness to say that he’s weak and indeed extra g-y
it’s needless to say that he’s sweet in a gene kelly way
so please step away before i immediately send you back to your respectful place
the side of t-rex’s face

[round 1: illmaculate]
introducing ness lee
he’s a new dude on the scene
but he’s foolish as h-ll
he’ll respond to every youtube comment you leave
and doesn’t take scrutiny well
f-ck it, you can’t f-ck with me i’ll merc’ this cat
we could do it at the venue or in a parking lot
’cause a real emcee can adjust to any circ-mstance
so here’s how the situation had popped off
he hit me up, i was debating on taking the broad’s call
he started complaining about his battle with frankie like “ah nah
nah dog, i won, but the crowd was wack
so i feel in a way that i got robbed”
well if there’s one thing you can say about greg it’s he’s got b-lls
so if i’mma lose
the last thing i’mma do
is start blaming it on y’all
see i should be battling cats like math, mook, lux, serius, arsonal or solomon
written, freestyle, funny, street cats
i never been partial to a following
anybody, anywhere
put up money, and i’m there
f-ck a battle for free, this cat is b-mmy, and he’s scared
this b-tch’ll get served, witness this nerd get his confidence smashed
i felt guilty at first, but he wanted this bad
screaming ‘f-ck the world,’ with his d-ck in the dirt, while i’m stomping him flat
i try to listen when he’s spitting his verse, but he’s rocking that hat
what you thought them gimmicks will work?
you shoulda came with a slit in your shirt
or more props for your act
and i ain’t dissing hollow
he one of the realest dudes to meet me
he don’t feel the mood is greazy
so you can go ahead and rhyme your little syllables uniquely
but our battle was proof
you gotta take it to a level that you ain’t willing to to beat me
see, his insecurities cut deep
now i know the wound is open
since i first accepted this battle the only hope for you’s promotion
i can’t lose now
and that’s the realest quotable that’s spoken
’cause he did this for free, i got a couple gs
and now we’re just going through the motions
let’s make sure this little punk’s facts are clear
he’ll say i ducked him in new york
i’ll end this chump’s rap career
i battled con and hollow the same day
the saurus in the bay
now i’m ducking ness lee?
get the f-ck outta here!

[round 2: ness lee]
i’m from the south
but i’ll leave you walking out
what you talking ’bout?
if i’m on such a low level why you call me out?
matter of fact, i’ll smash your moms
you’ll have a little brother that became grey
if you battled con and hollow in the same day
how come you lost ‘do?
that make you lame and g-y
if ever thug was your image, it wasn’t intended
this junky wouldn’t steal prescription drugs from a clinic that’s unattended
you inherited this b-ttocks kicking
it’s like i died and gave wifey the house and daughter the car:
i’m giving son the business
you little munchkin midget, sn-tch you out a honda civic
and twist you up in a position that you sitting like russell simmons
you better duck or get it when i punch your chin in
somebody tell sonny listen before he gets sonny liston’ed
and i’m violent about something that you always do
you threaten people twice as tall as you
you know karate moves?
if not, madness and dizaster woulda bodied you
the saurus woulda zipped you
the don woulda hollowed you
so naturally the thing that can’t get past me is the fact that he’s three and a half feet and tryna act street
ask me if he packs heat in his pants, please
you put a nine in his slacks he wouldn’t be able to bend his d-mn knees
picture this action movie, bet you laugh profusely
imagine little ratatouille tryna blast the uzi
it happens to be two or three rappers in this room that’ll bring you shattered and bruised dreams and that includes me
i go ham
with both hands you fake clown
and when we slow dance it’s no romance just take out
i close-hand him and homes could land facedown
but he so short, we don’t know if it’s a ko or standing eight-count
anyway, wasn’t you nerdy back in your scribble days?
’cause rocking skinny legs before they was a fad is pretty g-y
you used to [?] and talk more proper
rap about your notebook and never support choppers
now it’s “i hate cops! x and bacardi!
wait till my alb-m drop, s-x at the party!”
he has no glocks, tec’s, his own 40s
i can look at you and tell your arms are short
but not just on your body

[round 2: illmaculate]
here’s how you can tell he ain’t iller than me
’cause if he the sicker emcee
how come you can tell the difference between
his written and frees?
i will body you
peep game
i popped to ness lee’s dame
left her sheets stained
she did me like krang without the bodysuit
i mean brain
but i ain’t force her the wh-r- was a cheap date
she ordered a beefsteak
i told her we wasn’t leaving till she polished the fork and the clean plate
the b-tch ain’t wanna finish, but
i forced her: then she paid
see your recordings are poorer than me
and your formula’s cliché
my schemes are cleaner your sh-t is horrible
and even in portland you’d seem strange
your choruses are boring and seem lame
he in his f-ckstick home booth using his unmixed vocals for torturing t-pain
but i see the b-tch in the blood that’s coursing in lee’s veins
i’m using you to get money
’cause they swore that i’d be paid
you homeless, so you only using me to get money
’cause i’m bored and you need change
i’m ignoring this pea-brain
but afford me a brief favor
your recordings are plain
but according to his name
whoever thought that he’d need flavor?
of course, it’s sort of the thang
like calling a big guy ‘tiny’ or a tortoise ‘the speed racer’
see i’m scoring like d wade but i’m not a sportsman or team player
you’re corny but seem brave and that’s unfortunate behavior
he said “shorty dies!”
ving rhames met the coroner weeks later
i breathe hate
this dead man ain’t seen flames till the bay gave his corpse to the cremator

[round 3: ness lee]
i know you threatened a lot of rappers
it’s time you get sent to the er
i got a challenge for you
you accept it to be hard
i dare you not to settle for setups that’s r-t-rd
and make us miss your punchlines ’cause you stretch ’em for three bars
i’m the rap general slash veteran
who gets mad cheddar to smash records
and your crew knew you a rat ’cause you run your mouth
and run around the mousetrap
till you get smacked dead in your fat head with a broom
screw whatever happened
past present or soon
how many battles ill won
like that’s relevant ‘ooooh’
that was back then dog
subtract legend from truth
and this cat’s destined to lose
’cause i rap better than you
i told ’em “i’m a fan, dog
in battles you’re a beast
but you do damage on a beat
when’s your alb-m out? i need one”
he reached into his baggie like “there’s actually a fee but you can have this one for free, son”
can i get a refund?
i’d put your alb-m against you to bag me some b-tches
but for that to happen i’d have to give it an actual listen
and you don’t have to be a mathematician or master addition
to tell this cat’s the president of the wackest division
you said your entire top tier is locked up
as far as i know, the only one in jail is onlyone
so how many rappers in your top tier, only one?
and how many battles has only won, only one?
last time i heard, that’s not something to brag about
wack-rhyming nerd gets locked up and y’all gangsta now?
that’s why you prefer to send 9dm to only battle, wow
your top tier, ain’t around
we all agree, you happy now?
and what’s with that dumb video?
the lyrics son’s spitting plus image is something silly fo’
homes, arms folded, slang all wrong like “what’s really ‘do?”
nerdy entourage all [?] like “come get me bro!”
woah
you said “i’ll ply out your fingernails
and sneak up behind you
and knife you like splinter cells”
well, what he shoulda said is “my life is a living h-ll, my wifey is really pale and i’ve never been to jail”
your wife’s a midget, but i might hit it
catch her at the club like “i hope you got a big trunk, ’cause i’m putting my bike in it”
what’s most funny is you
talking ’bout chrome twos busting
and you holding your own to punching
as you, would need a whole crew to rush me
you was probably homeschooled and you’re the size of toadstools cousin
’cause if i ran up on you
with intentions to fold you it’s nothing
i’d crush you and say i owned you in public
i can sit here and tell you that you won’t do nothing
what makes it so funny is you won’t do nothing
and i don’t need to wave a d-mn eagle, that fake f-g
my hand’ll meet you, and melt sandpeople to stained gl-ss
i run up on your crew like “what a do, goof troops?”
and plant a foot in you until my muddy shoes grew roots
the kickback from a 22’ll ruin dude
and you got the nerve to ask what’s goody two-shoes: you!
so i gotta ask you
are you absentminded, ’cause you lost weight, respect and a whole lot of battles
you might agree the irony’s enormous son
your record’s four and one
and you’re four foot one
he was grieving his losses and took conceited’s the hardest
but you couldn’t read him r-t-rded ’cause you need a the saurus
by the way, i peeped that battle last week
you mighta won, but d-mn
pete coulda spit his to a d-mn beach
the facts be you sound more weak written
you proved white men can’t jump, or keep rhythm
before that battle people like “you fell off and you garbage dog”
but i’m like “he’s four feet tall, he ain’t have that far to fall”
then that cat piggybacked you
two championships in fact
but the snitching act in y’all’s battle ended that
so yeah, y’all know the story ’bout the midget on a giant’s shoulder?
i tried to told ya’ tiny soldier, but the ride is over

[round 3: illmaculate]
here’s how you can tell ness lee’s [?]
the police coming!
but at least we don’t have to hear a free from ’em
i’ll murder this b-tch
clearly i hope that you crash when it’s said and done on your flight tomorrow
’cause every verse that he spit, was merely the opening act for every one of mine that followed
i know that you praying i wrote reverses but player i own the circuit
and i ain’t battling ness
i’m battling the b-tch that’s laying below the surface
the same one on the forums complaining, i know he’s nervous
he hates it, it pains him
everyone’s saying he don’t deserve this
well, just accepting this battle it’s like i set the mousetrap
soon as ness pokes his head around, snap!
motherf-cker make a threat about that
this jealous clown’s mad
mad that i’ll p-ss him
speeding in the slow lane
put him in his casket
leave him in his own grave
everyone’s asking why i’m beefing with a no-name
they said he’s good at rapping so i beat him at his own game
see for him, nothing’s achievable
this motherf-cker is regional
but last battle, ask him
he was chucking the heater too: right?
honestly it was uncomfortable seeing you
acting like you was tucking the cannon
bucking and blamming
i understand adjusting for the fans
but something you need to do
is at least make it f-cking believable
this cheap dead beat don’t know what street cred means
think i can’t beat ness lee
test my reflex speed
if he a nes, then i’m a ps3
think you the coldest on the scene or the dopest with the schemes
if you the franchise player i’m the owner of the team
the moment that i stepped in
your life’s threatened in five seconds
my knife’s rusty, so try and rush me i side step ’em
this guy’s ugly, the only [?] i’ll mention
is you look like a bootsy, fugee
we just gonna call you wyclef…..chin
and i know you causing your label some grief
hitting wyclef up, banging your keys
begging him “please, make me some beats!”
which also explains why his latest release was for haiti relief
i’m just gon’ say what everybody’s been thinking the whole night
like “when personalized hats go wrong”
but wait, when do they go right?
i been told that i’m fresher and i’m sicker on tracks
now watch him fold under pressure like the brim of his cap
he wasn’t concerned with his image, in fact
he didn’t care that his fit didn’t match
he was more concerned with how many tips he could fit in his hat
if your b-tch says she loyal, then she lying
i was whipping with her, switched lanes, speed by him
seat back, reclining
getting raw head: while she’s driving
but i’ll be honest with him
getting hype is what they know me for
this is where hollow would ask god to forgive him
man i might be going overboard
f-ck it, now it’s bodybags ’cause i gotta spazz
but this is common knowledge had
you heard one of the songs you has
he had baby-mama drama
after a year, found out he was not the dad
funny, ’cause now i’m sonning you
kinda like the kid that you thought you had

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