D-Lor vs. Phranchyze

Lyrics

[Verse 1: Phranchyze] You're gonna lose to me today, so now I got the Cali kids listening You're not a warrior in the Bay just 'cause you look like Mitch Richmond They said he was my rapping twin Well if that shit's a fact well then I'ma Leonardo DiCaprio him when I stick the iron mask on him I'm surprised I got this match wit' him 'Cause you sit in the background like some sort of faggot Master Jin sipping tea with Tantrum like, "I don't think I wanna battle him" This fuck'll get murked Nigga I carry a sword like Guts from Berserk so when I slice through you it leave a cut in the earth My assassin-type surgery'll leave my knife burgundy I'm like a scientist with luminous flux, this light work for me So your Downward Light Output Ratio, I'ma turn it around There'll be no rays to output once I turn your lights, down So like we say in Texas bitch, I'm finna be tho'ed Like your name backwards or a Backwoods you finna get rolled I'm hotter than fucking hell, and in case you couldn't tell 'Rolled' was missing a couple letters, so I'll hand you another L [Verse 1: D-Lor] If the world was more accepting, you and Stareater would make great husbands But in the south, he gotta introduce him like "nah, this is my play cousin" He's into, line-dancing, cattle-roping, and base-jumping When he takes him out he's like "dog, don't say nothing" You sound, like Inspector Gadget It would take several prerequisite classes, be telepathic and, get a diploma and fucking X-ray glasses, just to tell you apart from Detective Blacksmith Your new name's, Detective Phran-smith Claiming that, Texas brashness When he about as, brolic as a feather mattress And wild as a, tumbleweed, blowing by a desert cactus I mean, how else could you let two Brits revoke your ghetto passes If you tried to rap more whiny than you are Kid Twist would tell you to stop biting him so hard Try to through your weight around and get violent in a yard And get knocked the fuck out, like Rikers when the guards fire shots, at the inmates fighting in the yard I want you to go back to WRC and look close at the clips He wasn't the only one whining like an emotional bitch He got mad at Ark and Eurgh for morphing their flips Then he morphed up his fist, and knocked both of 'em- oh wait, he didn't do it 'cause he's too much of a hoe, to do shit [Verse 2: Phranchyze] There's no way you're stopping me I may be stuck in Texas, you're stuck in mediocrity The west coast thinks he's the best I'll cut his face off, knees and neck Put him on a spit to heat his chest, sprinkle on paprika next Then proceed to, eat the flesh, that's what I call a seasoned vet You rap loud, but I know you'd bow out in a war I make history, that always wins out over Lor What makes you think that you could ever win a bout wit' me Lor What makes you think that you could stop what I'm about to be Lor If you're a samurai, I'm a Fullmetal Alchemist Lor Why are you here? Nobody needs to lease an Altima Lor So when you eat dinner with your mom, I bet it's hard to face her Knowing she met this, young black male with the, charming nature She put my privates at ease like a, army major Even ask an ese who ain't been here a day They'll be like "Phranchyze, [?] fuerte, wey" My style lives in a realm, where you can barely stay So este es la dia de tu muerte wey I came to the western zone, to use your big-ass effing dome for a stepping stone to the western throne Let it be known, I'll kill you with my blessed poems [Verse 2: D-Lor] Before YouTube existed, was when I first took to dissing Battle of the Bay 1 through 5, they decided I was a good addition With you, they couldn't risk it I mean, what the fuck have you done lately besides, Grind Time exists, footage missing Who the fuck is Phran, he some geek impostor He drinks a little, Seagram's Vodka and thinks that he's in, Three 6 Mafia Watch D-Lor off ya', through a futuristic soldier's mask I warned you 'bout that shoulder blast I'm Kobe in his prime, he's got the swagger of a Sabonis or an Ostertag Tryna, roam through trash for open cans the only time he hustles, coke, for cash I'll slap you with my open hand 'Til you start rapping with that southern accent you're supposed to have He's skinny, nerdy, broke, and black And I ain't got no fucking joke for that See I don't fraternize with Phranchyze since I found that Phran is fake Plus I heard he rats to jakes 'Bad cop' gives black a shake, and he gives up his sources like Magic 8 Battling me, was a bad mistake when it's obvious I'm past your rank A hand grenade against a mass brigade of German Panzer tanks So I'm gonna stop for a minute and start talking specific Like why do you talk so pretentious, when to us you sound like the last Neanderthal in existence? I can hear Fresh Coast '04 in all of his writtens, which makes me, your upright walking descendant [Verse 3: Phranchyze] This nigga Lor, got a throwback hairline Nigga, do you practice cutting your own hair in your spare time? There's no way Lor can abuse me with the rhymes Nigga we seen you at Tourettes, losing all the time Nigga you lost so much at Tourettes niggas think you have Tourette's Walking around having flashbacks of when you got smashed and wrecked like "fucking balls, damn it, shit" Every time they battle you, they say you wanna be a white guy But judging by your Asian fascination I'd say you wanna be a rice guy Your best ever D, won't stop you from getting scored upon Mosh called you Dolores, today you be, D-Lorisan You're the kinda cat to change your name to Saiphon Then start a group with Tantrum called Chocolate Saigon I got the kinda bars leave this cocky guy gone 'Cause the force of them is quite strong like a sword of Qui-Gon You're gonna take one on the chin son, and then some And when I win son, I'ma cruise the land like Superman, catching [?] eating dim sum With my heat vision, incinerate your bitch lung And then when I win son, it won't be the first time a nigga came from Austin to Cali to get shit done Vince Young [Verse 3: D-Lor] Saying you ripping or killing me Would take a bigger suspension of disbelief, than seeing him pitching or flipping keys I thought a 'franchise' was the player who could lift his team but homie, we in different leagues It's not that he's white, he just has different slang, you know, it's in between His dad says "hand me them chicken wangs" he's like, "didn't you mean chicken wings?" Even words like, 'crawdads' and 'chitlins' get him steamed Like "no dad, they're crayfish and chitterlings, totally different things" I'm one man, but to you, this is feeling like a triple threat match Jackknife Powerbomb get your neck snapped I wanna know, how he black, and got a crystal meth stash If I stabbed him, I bet he'd bleed vanilla extract I find it as disrespect that, I even gotta continue to spit this verse He a freestyler, I don't even think he know how writtens work I got heart, flow fire, spit water, mix wind with dirt I find it ironic that Kwame from Captain Planet is getting earthed See, he begged for no judges, tryna get off my shine to get some fame So even when he lose kids'll say, "he did this thang, he could hang" People said this was an even match, but then again, opinions change Footage drops and it's "damn, Lor shoulda got, a bigger name" If you think this shit's a game, MechWarrior missiles aim Clip your fade, ricochet, hit your leg Seven tips split your frame, for not staying in your lane Acidic rain inflicted pain, these are the Olympic games Throw your sword at the emperor, are you not entertained?