Pat Stay vs. Real Sikh

Lyrics

[Round 1: Pat Stay] Man, my last stage battle... can't even explain the feelin' Just so much love, you know what I mean? I left, happiness through the ceilin' I pull out my phone to make a video about my life and just how blessed it is My brother's callin', said, "Mom has cancer. Got three months left to live." I said, "Wait, how? Since when?" He said, "I've known for a few days now. She just wanted you to have a good battle." I break down Face drowned in tears; I can still taste it this day now I'm losin' my fuckin' moms, bro! And it's stage 4; it's too late now That event was early June; she passed late September It's crazy to think we were both battlin' on our last stage together I held her hand through her last breaths; I'll carry that pain forever! So when I get a call and hear, "Real Sikh..." Nah, fuck it! That made this better Shouts to 6 God I'ma send him to Sikh's God; this a match made in Heaven! The road is up I'm Loaded Lux in the bow and tux Pfft! Blow the dust off my shoulder Adjust this folded cuffs, cold as fuck White boy rage; I be goin' nuts Basket case! Put this snake charmer in the cobra clutch Listen, bitch! You think Ion't know whassup? All I'ma say... Tellin' ya angles to people was an awful mistake You tried to be all friendly wit' me; I knew in my heart it was fake Whole time, his hands behind his back, sharpenin' the shank He got it twisted! Thought I could get charmed by a snake Now, look at 'im—tuh! He's rattled, he's startin' to shake, he's nervous The Game's tattoos: it's hard to erase He can't cover up them butterflies with a star in his face Look at ya idol! I used to like you You were humble... honoured and modest Won a couple lil battles and got all Bollywood on us Sayin', "No respect for the legends!" Oh, I should Indian burn you right now! Son of a bitch! I was the first one biggin' you up, holdin' you down! True story: I watched his Danny battle wit' a couple my homies around I'm showin' them, proud Like, "Yo, this new guy is one-a the dopest around!" Danny goes first, chokes—I said, "Ope! He fucked up now! Real Sikh's gonna flip it on 'im! Buckle up! It's goin' down! Ooh! ... Oh. Didn't even mention it. Wow." "What, ya boy's an amateur or somethin', Pat?" "Man, just trust me. Settle down." Danny goes again, chokes again! The whole fuckin' round! He don't say shit! Embarrassin' me in fronta my buddies now! But for some damn reason, I fuckin' believed 'im Not all these new era dudes can't freestyle—well, most of 'em Long story short: round three, Danny quits; I look at both of them I said, "Oh, shit! Woo! Any second now, Sikh should start roastin' 'im!" "He should take this angle, say this to 'im"—I mean, in my head, I start coachin' 'im! "Come on!" "What, a guy in a turban can't rap off the head?" They're crackin' jokes at 'im! I'm losin' hope in 'im, he still ain't sayin' shit yet I saw the ghost in 'im and haven't looked the same at Sikh since What happened, bro? You said you write a verse a day; you should be fast as fuck! He's just unnatural; it's over-rehearsed Well, I'ma put 'im in the backa one! Pack 'im up! "No respect for the legends." I should smack 'im up! I could give you a thousand examples of who he been tryna jack his swagger from Like Mike P... "The white me." Boy, you got it down pat... you sound just like me Look at me go wit' that Booker T tone Always lookin' like he's 'bout to grant you a wish with this mean pose Well, peep game, genie: I'm the fuckin' cheat code! You know you 'bout to get bodied, right? Canadian: I am awfully nice Sucka-Free all my life, the west coast taught me right! I hear a lotta Pat in his style; I'm here for copyright! Jersey's in over his head like a hockey fight! [Round 1: Real Sikh] I wanted to know where you from so I watched ya battles to see where you goin' home to and I was confused 'cause accordin' to Smack, you from "Notia Scotia." The only one from my class on the Drake card? I gotta cook you three-oh! And I'm the only rookie he chose? Yeah! Look at me go! I got a question How come on King Of The Dot you are super-bummy but on URL, you wear brand names? Louis-ed up wit' the black shades Know who I think of wit' Pat Stay? 'Member that dude in Squid Games that was flippin' the envelope? Right? He only suited up for a Smack game! The fuck? Fuck what you doin' vers' Shine You heard all the excuses that Pat givin'? Said he wrote for a small room then last minute, the staff switched it Had to rap outside 'cause-a the pandemic And Shine's people was hypin' 'im in the back, trippin' That whole performance was global warmin': you said the gas did it But only talk 'bout the environment changin' 'cause you was trash in it Mad unprepared, stumblin' Got off the plane wit' only one round he brung wit' 'im Shoulda learnt from football: tryna go for two more, you run a risk But after he touched down, P-A-T only got one to kick! That's why it's no respect for the legends! We fuck wit' 'em But if they show up bullshittin', we done wit' 'em! Smack, Pat went from bein' a cheat code to mashin' buttons and Mook went from sayin', "Easy!" to duckin' 'im! I'm 'bout to flip on this bitch and switch into this Fuck ya name-flips! I'm gettin' real sicka this shit! I got two signature moves; I autographed 'em Brought a classic or a casket; how you wanna rap it? Wit' all ya jackets and fedora hats that'll hardly match it It's only right I kill 'im in a awkward fashion! I toss a jab at his tall ass; he fallin' flat and Pat on the floor like Velma when she lost the glasses I might hit you, fight witchu Strike quick as flight missles Hands 'round ya neck like I'm tryna fix ya mic issues Ain't jokin' tonight witchu Knife slit through white tissue Immigration police: ice-pick you Anybody coulda got this candle light vigil But they call Stay on the line like, "Someone'll be right witchu." Better be quick Get 'im dead; he be red as a bitch Ready to flip Semi equipped, steady the grip Empty the clip Hit ya head when I trip Wit' a calicoe you can't keep it professional wit' No time out, though High style, Rock Balboa'll get knocked out cold He hop 'round, drop down slow If he nod out, a Glock round go Bullet'll hit Pat on the shoulder like, "Watch out, bro." Speak proper or drop in a operatin' room I got me a chopper that I could be shock and waded through You got the name a dog trainer use Pat—"Stay." I told this bitch not to make a move! I'm attackin' you So kick ya jokes; I'll be laughin', too But after ya last battle, ya status 'bout to be passin' you So make funa me for workin' out or wearin' a turban; it's factual Just know if you don't raise the bar then it's a wrap for you! [Round 2: Pat Stay] "I know this one girl who's cryin' out for help but her latest caption is, 'Leave me alone.'" That's a serious line Kinda reminds me of this dude who plays all these different races but calls people racist when the narratives rise Like, are you really very surprised to be characterised when every battle you do, you got some terrorist rhymes? You'll play an Indian 7/11 clerk, an Arabic guy Maybe next week, he's in a fuckin' Cherokee tribe Then use all their stereotypes for parody lines Then have the nerve to be in interviews, sayin' he wishes We could just see him for his talent, not based on his image His race and religion, paintin' people as racists and bigots If they bring it up but if it plays in his favour, it's different Like, make a decision! Why are you so afraid to admit? You know exactly what you're doin'; quit playin' the victim It's like when Pac dissed Biggie's girl and claimed that he hit it The truth is, you just use your fuckin' faith as a gimmick "I gotta stay armed! That's what it says in my religion!" Fun fact—he's reminded us in every piece of footage he's been in And that shit be soundin' hard as fuck 'cause he says it wit' conviction But when you hear, "Armed." you think of what? A strap? Nope! To be specific, he means a kirpan Small dagger... cute little case That they carry in defence if they're being forced to do something against their faith Like cut their hair or remove their turban, eat meat Ah, who gives a shit? Give a fuck if he's Paki, Iraqi, or Indian I'll rip off his turban, twist it and turn it And get fuckin' smacked in the lips with it after I've pissed on it! No respect! Rope ya neck like a dookie chain Bitch-slap you wit' a big ol' juicy steak then give you a Boosie fade Bitch! That's for every time I be tryna get home and my Uber's late! I've leave Sikh so (6-0) crippled, he'll have beef with the Hoover gang! Now, I didn't wanna get personal witchu but you made this a personal issue And this whole honourable image you try to portray? I'ma turn it against you Now, you may not remember 'cause you were drunk; it might start comin' to you now But you were drinkin' wit' Shine before we battled and he was runnin' through his rounds He spilled his whole third round angle to someone and it came cyclin' back I coulda rebuttled his whole shit but I like 'im... besides, it was wack! But Shine trusted his triflin' ass! Hangin' his friends, recitin' their raps! He was supposed to keep K silent Shoulda known he'd put a knife in his back! Look, he mad right now! So that's how that dagger's used Don't let 'im hear what you have in the bag if he's half in the bag witchu He mad right now! Well, look at karma starin' back at you! Now, it's not just airplane passengers that'll be scared to share their craft witchu! He mad right now! And you deserve this shit, dude! Usin' your religion as a gimmick was the first thing I proved And ain't y'all not supposed to drink? And you was turnin' up, too? Fuck! Nick Cannon's more worthy to wear a turban than you! Look, he mad right now! He's my son; I had to discipline 'im! Little brat! Take his little kirpan and stick 'im wit' it! I'm sick and twisted Drive it in Sikh and twist it Stab his whole body up He'll be leakin' every angle like when Sikh is twisted He mad right now! Sweatin', head drippin' fast right now He wants to wring his turban out so bad right now! Try to freestyle shit? Look at that! Maybe we can try it Hey, Shine! When Real Sikh swore to your face, he was lyin'! [Round 2: Real Sikh] Vers' Suge, you said, "You know how hard it is bein' me, the only white guy here? Your opponent says, 'Fuck white people!' and the whole crowd cheers? You got it easy!" You the one complainin' 'bout ya race! I don't think you very observant That's like me walkin' in like, "Yo! How come nobody's wearin' a turban?" Like, you be the one with them white boy bars you up here spittin' "I'm the white boy at the cook-out! I'm white but I'm a good barber!" Shut up wit' it! The race card's ya fuckin' gimmick! You brought up how ya skin is Then ya opponent calls you white and you all a sudden trippin'? Special Olympics: he actin' like his race is a handicap but he look retarded runnin' wit' it! You ain't the only white boy anywhere; that shit's fake Look what we have today! Pat relate to the whole Caffeine staff and halfa Drake! I mean, thinkin' white people might need to fight for equal rights—pfft! Terrible! Speakin' like he treated unfairly, too! Do you hear the news? If you don't share the views of what some people witcha appearance do When ya opponent says, "Fuck white people!" you should be cheerin', too! Pat Stay! They even call him the white versiona Goodz when we told 'bout his aura That come from mosta the stories from his local supporters When he was known as a snorter wit' coke in his corner That's why they call him white Goodz from over the border! See, Pat just a funny, happy-go-lucky average rapper but Back in Canada, he had 'im a bad habit, stuck Passin' bucksa cash for a half-a-cut bagga stuff Packa Xannies, addies, glass, and dust He's a addict, bruh! Touched Smack and stopped braggin' 'bout the smack he touched fast as fuck Now, he livestreams on IG wit' a plastic cup, plastered drunk To mask his past wit' drugs, he leaves y'all crackin' up 'cause that's what his habit was: crack and up! From life as a cokehead to an alcoholic, there's no end This on YouTube! He was on a live, lookin' so stressed Sittin' in a bar by hisself while they was tryna close The comments was roastin' 'im; his vibe was a whole mess Faded on a stream Grand Theft Auto: he was wasted on a screen, just dyin' a slow death! If ya highs and ya lows met, ya obsession would never start Inside pubs and nightclubs, ya memory gettin' scared You don't question ya sense at all? I know addiction ain't easy to block, but he should learn the lesson in every bar! You even wore shades vers' K-Shine but it was night time on the set That's a sign you gotta watch ya shit wit' Shine and reflect Behind the lens, ya eyes were probably red He wasn't rhymin' his best And he looked like he had alcohol on his breath If he got in a ride, he would catch a DUI if they checked Watered down when he was supposed to be at ninety per cent We was tryna see what he on 'cause he ain't line up his steps Wit' a light Shine in his face like a sobriety test You even looked at the cam and pulled down ya pants Why'd y'all book this undercover? "I'll walk my white ass 'cross 8 Mile."-lookin' motherfucker! You shoulda done another move; why did you try? But now it makes sense why this alcoholic tried to moon Shine [Round 3: Pat Stay] It's been adorable watchin' you new era dudes clique up as friends Against all the vets, you cheer for each other with so much excitement But when it's our turn? Crickets; it's dead It honestly feels like one-a those movie scenes where the losers get the revenge On the popular high school quarterback kid in the end Who's always got more love and attention than them And that's actually the perfect analogy—all sour "Oh, they only get by 'cause of their starpower! Where's our flowers?" See, that's where the bitterness stems You always ask for advice right? Well, let me give you a gem Like the jewellery worn by women in your religion: get it into ya head You see that new Chappelle special? Man, that last segment was deep Only had, like, two jokes within twelve minutes but still kept us at the edge of our seats You know what I mean? He coulda just punch-punch-punch and got with the times but that's why there's a shepherd and sheep And that's exactly what makes him a legend; see, we don't follow anyone's league You wanna know the truth? You know why y'all the one who Smack's been hypin' up? It's 'cause you're half the price as us and you'll battle twice a month Fuckin' bitch! Not even half! Smack's thinkin', "This a easy investment But lemme call Pat, though, 'cause that's the only way Sikh'll sell. I need me a legend." You're his prodigy now, huh? We'll see how long that shit lasts You got a lotta punches but you'll never have a stronger impact That last round fucked him up! I was hopin' you'd get mad! I'll smack the fuckin' dishrag offa Sinbad's bitch ass! New era? Bro, you got the oldest style in the league! With your fast raps and 2003 multi-syllabical schemes Rapping over his own beatbox... passionately! Aww, man! That's my favourite parta ya battle for me! Like, what the fuck do you expect our reactions to be? All of a sudden, he starts snappin'... tappin' his feet "What's going on?" Poundin' his chest, slappin' his knee "Is he gonna spit over this? No! Could it actually be? Oh, my God! A rapper can rap on a beat!" You're an idiot "Ayo, my name's Real Sikh and I'm here to say you're the wackest MC! I'm flippin' and rippin' and whippin', I'm givin' 'em lyrical wit' 'em! Nobody raps faster than me!" Fuckin' geek! No one cares how fast you can rap He's packin' the kirpan in the back of the Ac! And we're the only ones who write for ourselves these days Before his Ave battle, they hit me up on a three-way Said he didn't know how to start his first; he had two options, wasn't sure which one to use I told him the second and advice on how to perform it which was huge They said, "Ooh! Never thoughta that!" then he named three more battlers like, "Yeah, they picked the second scheme, too." I thought, "Wow! He got us three and another three dudes? How is this equal? It must be easy to prep—that's six people!" Tyson Fury in his second-last match for the championship When they said he had shit strapped to his hands Packed in his bandages; his raps have been tampered with But havin' a team must have some advantages He got somebody writin' for him, his girl tyin' his turban, and this guy packin' his sandwiches I cause collateral damages I hope you got ya friends involved! I'm a legend, dawg! Demigod! On a whole 'nother echelon! Invincible! Anything you say to me, I just deflect it off! I'm too dimensional for Sikh's angles like a hexagon! Bitch! Who are you flexin' on? The Taliban Hollohan better watch his damn Macho Man voice 'fore he gets body-slammed! Talkin' 'bout I'm an alcoholic... it's true, it ain't a easy pill to swallow But if he rub me the wrong way, I'ma hit this genie with a bottle! You said to Ave, "I fucked your mom! I been waitin' to hit! Put her in the 69, fuckin' play wit' her clit!" Bro, you know how fucking funny you sound sayin' that shit? I swear to God, these new guys be sayin' shit just to rhyme What kinda grown man still does 69? C'mon, bro Talkin' 'bout me moonin' shit! You fuckin' bitch! He texted me right after and told me I was thicc! Look at 'im! Asked for a pic! [Round 3: Real Sikh] He makin' funa me for workin' out 'Cause he not as proud as his body now He got off his steroids and lost his muscle He used to walk around Dwayne Johnson-style Calls himself the Space Rock The reason the dinosaurs is not around 'Cause someone gave his tall ass da roids and he couldn't calm it down! Now, you just tall... and the same size in ya Ts Insecure! When somebody brolic as me asks, "Why'd you get weak?" He lies through his teeth Like, "I ain't lose my muscle! I'm just tryna get lean!" Shut up! You was askin' me how to start to gain some weight 'Cause since he got off his cycle, his heart just ain't the same Feelin' all his major veins That creep in the gym, walkin' 'round wit' roids he would offer day to day Soundin' like that puppet in the Saw movie, just a dummy on a cycle like, "I wanna play a game." Pat Stay... worst gym partner... never re-racks weights Won't even talk to you when you hittin' legs but he'll blow up ya phone on chest and back day! Pat Stay! When you talk about his past days, he gets angry, usually Excuse me; this angle's new to me I feel like Dave Chappelle when he went as the trans community 'Cause I'm up here jokin' about the man he used to be Tyson Fury-lookin' ass! Ain't no king in this lane Got a bomb wick lit My tick-tick-tick wave Prolly had a kickflip/Limp Bizkit phase I'm Fif mixed wit' Wayne on the vintage mixtapes Said I go to the gym then lift weights Difference is I kill this big bitch Grip this switchblade Make him 5'10" when I split his ribcage I'm the Devil! Don't send someone 6'6" Sikh's way Vers' Diz, I heard him say, "Don't confuse emotional wit' weak. I'll slit ya throat wit' tears rollin' down my cheek." Pat is tough-tough Better keep a pistol if he beefin' witchu 'Cause if the talkin' leads to issues... he's gon' need a tissue? Wait, wait, wait... you cry when you get all violent? That makes me look at ya battle wit' Roc smilin' When you said he almost fights then almost fought like 'im What was you about to do? Ya tall giant Goliath-ass was gon' try it? Treat 'im like a small fry, clothesline 'im, get his jaw wired... Then start cryin'‽ So if he actin' all tough on stage, he ain't 'bout to do nothin' brave But if you see a tear fall from his face, fun away! Bitch, I'm from Jersey! That's a habitat you couldn't last through The people I know wit' tears on they face got 'em tattooed! Besides you kickin' jokes and rhymin' wit' it, why ya style's so different? You try to scheme wit' a lotta shit that everybody flippin' Ain't that 'bout a bitch? Like that Drake song wit' Ross and French If we heard Stay schemin', it'd be a lotta common disses I'm a different approach! Delivery, flows mixed wit' the shit that's hittin' ya soul Three-zippin' the GOATs You been here since '06 and it shows Givin' the old tricks that were dope Didn't get to decryptin' the code When he get bowed The minute he give it a go It don't fit wit' 'im so If you thinkin' it get physical, don't He really actin' like if he pop, Sikh'll freeze like a popsicle—please! Stick wit' the jokes! I gotta be clear! I'm tryna stop ya career Break down the status you had all of these years You cry before you scrap but it's the opposite here 'Cause now, if you don't fight, you'll be droppin' a tier! I'm on that Jersey shit! That goin'-all-out shit! Real sick and I'm the problem that you want round wit'? You supposed to put in work but that's wrong now, bitch! 'Cause you can't show up to work when you call out Sikh! Jersey!