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lirik lagu grind time now - okwerdz vs arsonal

round 1

(okwerdz)

see i may be the california cat but i feel like the one away from home this match/
cuz this f-ggot b-tch has advantages he doesn’t even know he has/
so when he says i’m a broke f-g, in the source mag, with a gold plaque, they’ll probably go and laugh/
cuz we got the best crowds on the west pal, and they all know my past/
but when i bring up how chingy, completely owned his -ss/
how he recycles loads of raps, or that little gladiators choke he had/
i guarantee that the crowd probably won’t react/
cuz no one on the fresh coast even f-cking knows this f-g/
see we agreed on the round times, until this f-gs b-tching, he called lush back trippin/
tried double the d-mn limits and change the rules at the last minute/
like how they changed hollows opponent fast switched it so he wouldn’t have writtens/
and that just goes to show that fight klub are some wack b-tches that do bad business/
so grind time put the priceline on ars’s head/
2 minute rounds ain’t impressive b-tch u just put us all to bed/
when all u spit is filler it ain’t really that hard to spread/
and out of 2 minutes, i only remembered about 2 bars you said/
you rap bout clappin ya steel i rap what i actually feel/
you lost a battle, to the fake tech n9ne, & i did a track with the real/
see i should fracture his grill, send him back to that habitat where he chills/
and tell loaded lux bring me another east coast f-ggot to k!ll/
ya see i’m one of grind time’s best, i’m going on w 3/
you do fake beef video blogs like its wwe/
so after this he’ll be at the telly moping around the hyatt, doing a video blog about it crying/
shouting the crowd was biased! i woulda won it if wasn’t for those lousy white kids!

(arsonal)

you tell stories and you lie to people, i mean a lotta people
you’re not solomon, you’re a wannabe iron sequel
and when my iron heat you, it’ll turn okwerdz to the real b-tch he is, a whiteboy named brian peeples
why you scream and you rap loud, you a fiend with a crack valve
with an oversized f-ckin’ head, you can’t even pull his hat down
in high school you was a cl-ss clown, a shadow in the background
who raps now and drink beers with his hash browns
i’m from the east, and the west look up to us
we was in the telly last night with yo cali b-tch f-cking us
i told her i just wanna bust, cause wesley snipes proved that white men can’t jump
so you know you can’t f-ck with us
why’s that? cause we jump b-tches off
i’m the truth in the booth and you f-ck n-ggas false
i’ll knock a tooth out yo roof you’ll spit it out when you cough
‘fore this battle started n-ggas figured out that you lost
your rhymes is chop suey, that’s sh-t on a stick
ya girl’ll walk from cali to jersey to sit on my d-ck
and i don’t know if you got herpes, but there’s sh-t on ya lips
and if he was g-y, jada wouldn’t even give you a kiss
i handcuff you to a banister, and hit you with bricks
push ya casket down the steps before they digged you a ditch
yeah, you unsigned, right? source unsigned hype
a b-tch with testosterone, a unsigned dyk-
lush, i’m racin’ the clock, lush it’s crunch time, right?
got bout, what? 45 seconds left? i got a rush rhyme right?
now it’s time to spit it rapidly, i’m a verbal catastrophe
why the f-ck did you battle, arsonal’s awkward actually
okwerdz was often backwards he obviously had a tragedy
mama was runnin’ back to me, probably cause your daddy’s me
i’m ya father, i ain’t gone hide it from ya neither
back in the early 80s ya mama had jungle fever
she was into black guys, hard gangster rap guys
such as myself, that’s how i got on those fat thighs
act wise, i don’t think you really want no altercation
i’ll have more n-ggas here than the presidential inauguration
confrontation constantly causes concentration
you an unmoved bowel, you ain’t sh-t…you constipation

round 2

(okwerdz)

see i bring 7 rounds to every battle, hand crafted, savage/
you spit the same verse every time i see you on cameras yappin/
you’ll probably use the same sh-t against me, cuz when this f-ggots rapping/
he recycles more, than f-cking captain planet/
you’s a hybrid rapper these are the known facts/
you’d think when it comes to battle verses he’d have an arsonal packed/
but when you battle 2 people and use the same bars on both cats/
then what kinda m-th-f-cking arsonals that?/
you from new jersey tryna gang bang? you make me sick/
this is california f-ggot, home of the real grape street crips/
you more like a grape fruit, living a life that ain’t true/
the east coast been stealing our slang, now they want our gang names too?/
homie i should take you, down to watts where the real grapes ride/
and have em stomp you the f-ck out on the grapevine, until it makes wine/
or maybe ill dump this punk in the trunk, of his new jersey ride/
and drive it the f-ck off of the route 35, and call that sh-t a new jersey drive/
you’ve got to be the biggest gangster, to ever wear a muscle shirt/
why’d i even take this battle i should’ve put em in the jungle first/
see either u on a quest to find the tightest shirt to recite a verse in/
or you just a crooked i lookalike, but the hyphy version/

unused bars:

the only time you l!ck shots its hypodermic/
your not even the tightest in your little dying circuit, you want fight klub im tyler durden/
so you can kiss the f-cking lions den goodbye its curtains/
when they find out it was a white suburban irish person on grind time that served em/

(arsonal)

yo…i been hot since osh kosh begosh and french toast overalls
i’ll detach ya spinal cord and rip ya shoulders off
youtube the footage of ya b-tch suckin d-ck with her tongue out until my s-m-n start rollin off
she deepthroatin’ till her lips rip scr-t-ms off
i finger all three of her holes, she a bowlin’ ball
i said overall, ya b-tch’ll make a soldier stand at attention and suck until my gi joe is soft
i be goin’ off top and i write a lot
now i hope god gave you nine lives so you could die a lot
i said cause first, you gon’ die from a spinal shot, then ima run you over with a srt8 till the tires pop
liar stop with the fabrication, you a b-st-rd fakin, only thing you’ve mastered was m-st-rbation
why you rappers think you sick? i’m the vaccination, you the f-ggot chasin’ criminals who do tax evasion
you a security guard, cop, and a janitor
with a wire, and a camera, and you grew up, in canada
you stepped up, so ima knock it down another one
i’m troublesome, and i’m battlin’ the crocodile hunter’s son
they be like (ho-ho), crikey mate! i’ve traveled from a crazy state
to beat your -ss until your ankles break
peter piper picked a peck of pickled peppers and you pete peter piston
you a pervert pedophile and you resemble peter griffin
you the family guy, you ain’t tough and you can’t be fly
you the same b-tch who cried when you seen bambi die
now the bread i got from here ima throw it out and spend
that’s not hair, you got a chia pet growin’ on ya chin
and i’m doubtin’ ya’all, plus i had it out for ya’all
you smell like a gym locker, onions and alcohol
you runnin’ ya mouth, ima have to cut ya fountain off
start a avalanche and make a california mountain fall
n-gga you from stockton? well ima getcha town involved
shootin from deep and i ain’t talkin’ bout if i bounce the ball
we got chicken shacks, you got waffle house
ya mother deep throat it before they took her tonsils out

round 3

(okwerdz)

now see you definitely getting kicked off loaded lux entourage, cuz u lost it dog/
but that’s what happens when you send a worker, to do the bosses job!
i knew you’d go for my race, but isn’t it getting sorta played/
and i may not be street in any form or way, but even i can tell that your a fake/
i’m from stockton b-tch, born and raised, america’s highest foreclosure rate/
and the most murder in california state, just ask forbes its great!/
and you act like you from the toughest parts of dirty jersey and street smart/
but you went to kean university sweet hart, so that makes you more nerdy than we are/
and its funny your whole battle scenes about being the streetest ’round/
but when the heat come out u ain’t street in the least amount, b-tch u more like the scenic route/
and id rather tell jokes and say suck my t-st-cl-s/
then be at some one dimensional gun rhyme punchline festival/
so whats next pull out the imaginary glocks and akeezys?/
put me in a mothaf-ckin box and say easy?/
and you guys act like grind time is so underneath ya/
been in 6 battles his whole life now he thinks he’s julius f-cking caesar/
you wanna battle? you gotta give loaded lux a visa/
and put a hundred gs up, whata buncha divas!/
and on the real, i got respect for, tech, lux, solomon, mook and math but the rest suck, ill f-ck t rex up/
and i’m willing to bet a, ron artes check stub, if you put your top 5 best up, against us, you’ll get crushed/
and last fight klub y’all so on the d-cks, of these westside vets/
even international p was trying to dress like plex!
and to f-ggots like himm grind times just a buncha funny clowns but ya need to be more humble pal/
cuz fight klub’s time is running out, so who’s the funny, mother f-cker now!
you just wore out your california welcoming wh0r-/
so take your b-tch -ss self to newark, and leave the fight klub belt at the door/

(arsonal)

look at me my n-gga, i’m quite fresh
and i like s-x, ya head’s bigger than homegirl -ss here in this white dress
now i could hit yo -ss , jab you with a right, left
or all-dooga-cut uppercut yo -ss out them musty -ss jordans or some nike checks
he flew me all the way from jersey, he said “you can’t sit home”
cause ya mother gives dome and loves to catch a lot of b-lls in her end zone
her legs open and close, that b-tch a flip phone
ya dad’s been gone, he was a f-g with down syndrome
so whachu want? you wantcha legs broke or shot till ya head burst
or you rather jump off of a buildin with ya head first
cause when you layin’ in that stretch he-rs-, the kids’ gon’ be like “mommy, limp bizkit died, he resembles fred durst”
okwerdz, now you got a real n-gga, i was a field n-gga
totin’ that tommy without the hilfiger
john mccain made it bad for ya whole race
cause now you a slave cause a n-gga run ya whole state
and i dare you say a n-gga joke, hulk hogan rip ya shirt
my off the top is hotter than the sh-t you wrote
and ya siblin’ is a big mouth d-ck suckin’ wh0r-
and i could probably fit my fist down ya sister’s throat
and it probably smell like fish, and ya sister choke
she a trick and she suck d-ck just to sniff some c0ke
and for a brick of dope, she a let me tie a brick to her ankle and tell her she the anchor to my fishing boat
i throw that b-tch overboard in the water, this is not a battle by the bay, this is slaughter
i’ll steal yo b-tch, after she give birth, my steel toe kicks’ll field goal kick ya daughter
now let me tell a true story, bout ya girlfriend
she’s white with a flat -ss, but she blow like a whirlwind
i checked in the same hotel that ya girl’s in
she knocked on my door so i had to let ya girl in
she said “ars, i want my p-ssy ate and a thigh m-ssage”
i said “alright you can get that, after you f-ck my entourage”
basically feedin’ her bullsh-t, all kinda lies
then we whooped that trick like she was a slave on amistad
so what i’m sayin’ is my large team cracked her
she a groupie, she’ll even let the ball team smash her
the moral of the story is, yo white b-tch, never got her p-ssy ate
n-ggas don’t eat saltine crackers
i’m a giant to this leprechaun
i start a riot if you step to mine, instead of bein’ quiet you was testifyin’
yeah you optimus prime leader of the decepticons
but i’m ya arch enemy, my nickname’s megatron
you’ll be dead and gone, ya full name set in stone
ya birthday followed by the day you was left alone
when ya casket drop, ima clear half ya block
a magnum shot’ll push yo spirit higher than a astronaut
and since yo chick love to grab for c-ck, we gon’ make a p-rno and watch it on a flatscreen magnavox
i’m talkin’ 60 inch hd, turn the volume to the max for the blind n-ggas who can’t see
you ain’t… (ho), i said you ain’t better than jo-jo, and played me
i’m talkin’ reverend run’s son, not the n-gga with kc
and you f-cks can’t blame me, i was a lion in the lionz den but lux couldn’t tame me
i’m goliath when i shoot the glock
this little n-gga must be david the way he be shootin’ rocks
i’ll shoot yo pops if i had to, then blast two out the clip and then get the ox
you shouldn’t f-ck with this repo man, cause i stay with the tools, i’m home depot fam
watch out when my heat blow fam cause i don’t miss when i shoot i’m reggie miller from free throw land
and i always pack some, so if you flashin, then i guess i jack son, like you t-to, d-mn
and i stay with a grip of cream cause i’m on the strip i’m pitchin’ to the fiends
them bricks that’ll have you on the tip and leaned, i’m real quick to get the beam
i’m addicted to that 9 milimeter like my clip carry nicotine
one from the eighth long beam, to ya ankles and leave ya with red sox
oh you don’t wear socks, but like the baseball team

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