[Round 1: Illipsis]
I said, that Isaac battle had me feelin’ like the heir to Jordan
The kid different, Eric Foreman mixed with ParaNorman
Fuck Quill! I’m here to battle the standards of rare performance
So I’ll put a plot in the planet for him like I’m terraformin’
Boy, the same crowd just came out to see who he’ll bury
‘Cause what I ink? Well…shit, I’m ‘bout to do Quill dirty
So dip, or this tryhard is headed back in a hearse
‘Cause J-Pro tres-0’d you… and he was battlin’ Eurgh
I’ll refrain from doing that and drop a single scheme on him
Ayo, Eurgh: your beard makes you look like Mr. Bean…Laden
But back to Quill…
Let’s go!
But back to Quill
Your pen light, and that battle doesn’t help
The whole time, your only quotables were “Fuckin’ hell…”
And nothin’ else!
Acting like the content that you pushin’ was deep
Don’t have appeal (a pill), but can’t deny Quill (NyQuil) put ‘em to sleep
And that’s why I’m about to prove why the pay grade different
Off top, I’ll let it rip, he think a Beyblade hit him
Cross your flag, get out-barred
Since he claim Great Britain
I’m throwin’ symbols (cymbals) at my student: I’m J.K. Simmons!
And if we get in a fight, then the comparison obvious
‘Cause you don’t really want it from the left or the right like American politics
(Yeah! Y’all didn’t warn him!)
His hard act is see-through
Don’t let this cat deceive you
I’ll scatter Quill around the city like Assassin’s Creed 2!
You can say I won’t fuck him up, that’s a common mistake
All your people can get the same: that’s a communist state
And he gon’ have that type of shit, but worse, and wit’ no conviction
You think you got this spot ‘cause you earned it with Pro? You’re trippin’
Bro, your ego got you gassed
I’m here bursting its swollen image
You are not the best here…just the worst in wrote contingent
Like…“World Dom convos - who should get flown to visit?
Who do we owe a ticket?
Who’s just here to get our international quota lifted?”
Quill’s got mediocre writtens, hopeless rhythm
“Bro, you’re kiddin’.”
No, he’s British! So it’s different!
Y’all are tokenism’s poster children
And he’s claiming he next up for the throne online
Type of dickhead to put himself in his own top five
He did that!
He’ll say I’m here to spar with the best, but I ain’t feelin’ it
Cousin, you just a star in your head: that’s the Faith Militant
Word to Isaac once more, in case, his faith may be true
Homie, God save the Queen, but He ain’t savin’ you
That’s 1
[Round 1: Quill]
Yo, we awake, yeah!?
Yo…
Yo, ignition: I start off fire
My flow madness
Out of control to kill you: Psycho Mantis
I know your game…
As soon as Manik managed to make you confess
It was all nail salon talk
You were like, “Manik, you’re (manicure) the best!”
Even give an apology
That’s when I knew it was Mickey D’s policy
You the type to squash the beef
You, cannot compete
I drop bars quicker than a slot machine
The last performance? That’s gotta be the pen that flash in Men in Black
Meh, forget that…
Baloo in Jungle Book: I been itchin’ to get back
Now Quill at his throat like a Daylyt neck tat’
If you come across with arms, then it’s X-Pac
You got me saying bars like that?
Man, I didn’t write the personals I was meant to
If you had a personality, I woulda used that shit against you
I mean…how are you gettin’ booked?
For real, I mean, nice- m-
Too many multis…
But you know, you still got that rookie feel
What’s your backstory? You had a brace, but your teeth are crooked still?
Ooh…tough break, I’ll knock ‘em straight, left-hook his grill
He the Little League, that mean he wouldn’t (wooden) shield
Come on…fuck your eye twitch!
My advice is, don’t blink if you make me violent
Before you raise an eyelid, you’ll see (sea) one land like Tracy Island
No way is he denyin’ what I’m writin’ is fire
You can’t lie about my pen: Jim Carrey in Liar, Liar
But don’t beat yourself up about it
You why I’m stompin’ on faces
You ain’t put a stamp on your alias
You ain’t found yourself yet in your quest to be Canada’s favourite
You keep character-changing like the American Dad! alien
But it’s cool! It’s cool!
With all that changing roles, man, it’s Game of Thrones
Now this a bigger Mountain you facin’
You and your boys from The Shire can get caved in
McGregor: you’ll see gorilla when I’m caged in
2015, you had a battle that got, what, 3 million more views than mine did?
But that was on Facebook, I still cannot find it
Even if you put his name in the YouTube searches…nothing
You have to type in “Illipsis vs.”
Lemme guess: you’re not a rapper, you’re a wordsmith?
(*chuckles*) Where’s your freestyles? I’m still waiting, bro!
It’s funny you got origami on your shirt when none of your paper fold
What the fuck is that about!?
End of Round 1 - let’s go!
[Round 2: Illipsis]
He askin’ where the freestyles are, so I gotta smash him
You said I’m from the Shire… Frodo Body-Baggins
(Lil’ somethin’, lil’ somethin’
I know it’s good)
I said, this is a great look for me - honestly, friends
But when I said I want someone who talks different, this is not what I meant
Soundin’ like you shove condoms into your mouth
And have arguments with yourself on which consonants to pronounce
You said, “No-no-no, URL’s turning me into one of those shooters.”
What the fuck now?
You watched one SMACK battle, now you’re gunnin’ punks down?
Like, Smack’s got eyes on him, cameras at this fucking chump’s house
“Nahmean? Quill’s writing a gun bar. He’s one of us now.”
Shit, he made me a shooter too
Quill came to the Dot’s core claimin’ he want war?
Shit, if it’s K’s, then I’ve got scores
Metal for every animal, basement of Oscorp
Silencer on it sound like I’m making him popcorn
A cap will put this British boy in his place like it’s Hogwarts!
Encore!
I’m just waitin’ for the dark days to happen
This is part trained assassin mixed with-
Ugh…
This is part trained assassin mixed with-
Gimme one second…
(*Illipsis deals with some brief indigestion as he tells the crowd to quiet down*)
Hold it down, hold it down..
This is part trained assassin mixed with arcane enchantments
Put the metal on Quill: Archangel’s talons
Pop this Brit for actin’ too big: Mark David Chapman
Bruv…Don’t Flop turned me to a mum-joke rapper
I said, I’ll roll up on your dad’s missus, mate
And if that bitch an 8, tell her I got specific tastes like Christian Grey
She get all the 50 shades! That ho’s a groupie
Now I got the bird bareback in the sack like Banjo-Kazooie!
Your mum went to Woodstock to see Jimi Hendrix
Then woke up to a black teabag: English breakfast
Eh, ‘Ganik, you’re turning me into one of those King of the Dot rappers, bud
Said, what you know about sippin’ syrup ‘til the spruce ran dry?
Or ducking every time you hear a moose pass by?
Movin’ cold bricks to keep your igloo stacked high?
Nothing, eh? It’s ’cause you’re not a-boot that life
The point being, you change style based on setting without justifying context
A chameleon, the name really doesn’t help the concept
That Quill is just a vessel writing someone else’s content
You told Charlie, “Clips in the magazine, that’s Weight Loss Weekly”
Then claimed you beat a boss when you ain’t take the game off easy
You have no imagination, mine is oversaturated
You just fabricate scenarios you know are lacking basis
So the name Quill fits him under close examination
Since that method of writing’s already growing antiquated
Whereas I’ve been the opposite
Stare into the eyes of Apocalypse
See the writing on the wall because my writing is off of it!
Quality!
[Round 2: Quill]
Now I didn’t know what an ellipsis was before we set this battle up
So for those of you that don’t know what it means…he has a shit name for a battler
I mean, you can find the word “ill” in both of our names
But you changed the way yours is spelled to emphasise it
That’s totally gay
So let’s see, you said, what, you perform for free ‘cause you do it for the collective
‘Til your bars are “Don’t Touch” and that’s expensive
Well, which one is it, mate?
Especially when I said we’ll have this judged - let’s get it straight
You won’t put your money where your mouth is
So what’s happened to all that expensive taste?
Huh!?
Get your body hooked, Leatherface
Saying you had the blueprint for the body like Michael Scofield…
I said that three years ago
I guess we different tiers, bro
But you Peter Parker: all that biting’s turned you into a hero
You made it out of Ground Zero
Well, hey, now we can break bread
I’m openin’ doors for this bitch, I guess chivalry ain’t dead
I mean, I coulda had a better opponent domestically
They say, “Why hassle with Canada?”
‘Cause there’s a difference between you battlin’ international, and me being a international battler
From the Birthdays to Blackouts, I’m on all of the big cards
You domestic talent, the best of the shit ones that don’t live far
But you should be on the Birthday, right?
So I inboxed Eurgh, and I worded it nice
And if you’re willing to purchase your flight
Well, I’ve hooked you up a job selling the merchandise
(*Illipsis flashes a quick thumbs-up*)
Nice?
I’m from London Town to prove he not better
He gettin’ hunt down…Brock Lesnar
You need training, bra(h)...cross-dresser
Can’t spray in the booth…oh, he Ross Geller
Spittin’ a million- (*chuckles*)
Spittin’ a million mu-
No, it’s not clever!
You couldn’t beat the old me
I’m hittin’ them with punchlines, you hittin’ them with multis
I mean, your first few bars against Sketch, I was like, “Ooh, this gonna be a tough day”
Then you said, “I’m an alien that stays between the-”
Aw, for fuck’s sake! Stop that shit!
I’mma kill him! I’mma kill him
You think to get to World Dom, you have to be winnin’
I seen you online and you dyin’ more times than Krillin
I mean, your bars are-
I mean, I mean-
Yeah? Fuck this shit!
I mean-
Yo, your bars are deep
But I find it hard to look past my perception of you, which I class as a dweeb
I mean…around you, girls couldn’t get more dry
I’m the reason they’re keepin’ a “Wet Floor” sign
You know? (*chuckles*)
You get picked last, you can’t play sports
You’ll get served this round
What you think this bar made (barmaid) for?
Yeah? Fuckin’ hell
You wanna do mum jokes?
Then me and your mum made a video for RedTube
She covered in more cum than Mark Wahlberg in Ted 2
I mean…(*chuckles*)
Fuck it - end of Round 2, let’s go

[Round 3: Illipsis]
They gave me Quill
Told me his shit’s buzzin’, the Brits love him
Word? ‘Cause stateside, it’s nothin’
Y’all gave the boy a fake name on the card: McLovin
Ayo, Gully, Bishop…
Guys, the fuck is this shit?
Y’all made up paper off his name: Dunder Mifflin
That’s the American Office
He’s like, “Bruv, it’s British. Yanks just yanked the format up and switched it.”
So I’m laughin’, at the irony and how snug it fits him
Complaining of infringement of another image
‘Cause unless the country’s switchin’
How you conducted business got you stuck on the Ronalds’ side like the fucking Grimace!
For those that don’t know, him and Don’t Flop were beefin’
Quill itchin’ to start war
At odds wit’ Eurgh, tryna scavenge some quid from this art form
Now are all his qualms financial? Really I’m not sure
But I assume they started shippin’ P to Quill
Now he think he a star - Lord!
Duckin’ battles overseas, that’s kinda sneaky, brother
Fred and George wit’ metaphors, you lookin’ Weasley, brother
‘Cause Pro had you lookin’ shaky
Bookin’ Verse had you lookin’ worse
It’s Brexit: you just back out when a foreigner comes to put in work
Then you backed out against Blizzard, which is ridiculous, bro
Specifically though, incensed you did that shit from the show
‘Cause him and Eurgh weren’t mincing words, so he rescinded his oaths
Ironic…how he sat out Blizzard, and now he can’t come in from the cold
I mean…some said he wouldn’t show up - that’s what the talk was about
But he showed up to his no-show to shit on all of the crowd
And speaking of trash slogans, yours is soundin’ hella wrong
Sat at the bar during his battle, unconcerned with what attendance want
Like, “Quill! Come to the stage! You are being fucking petty, don!”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere, Eurgh! Put the kettle on!”
Ain’t goin’ nowhere…
Well, now this opportunist leechin’ off a different staff he interact with
World Domination, so he switches tact to diplomatic
Riding dick to cash in bigger matches
Shit, Organik…
One Quill got you sick of antics
One Quill is just sycophantic!
He’s cool with Don’t Flop again
Honestly, I’m glad…
That, even with that ego, his pride has a price tag
Mighta got an entitled shot, and shit, it’s a nice match
But if you sold your soul for Soul, that’s some shit you can’t buy back
Die fast

[Round 3: Quill]
Now I’m not gonna illustrate, guys…
But I don’t think Ill’ a straight guy
The poster boy for Ground Zero
But how many bodies you put in the ground? Zero
Battlin’, years before, I was puttin' the work in
Yeah, I’m in the spotlight
You scary-movie hidin’ behind the curtains
You gettin’ buried, and I’m for certain they won’t find a person, like Tyler Durden
It’s like…you know that scene from Star Trek?
Oh, wait, of course you do
Look who I’m talkin’ to!
I don’t wanna hear no forced wordplay about Obi-Wan
Average performance, average performance…
I’m still waiting on your coldest one!
How many shots you want?
I need only one like the Golden Gun
You ain’t taking your shot: Jarhead
Futurama, I jar heads
You go from Warhammer to metal-squeezin’
You too fake, dental treatment
Toothache? (*chuckles*)
I’m from London, it’s not guns we grippin’
If I’m offing heads, I’m pickin’ the ax: Gene Simmons
Gun bars? Okay, I can get mean with it
Cap ten, then lift his whole team spirit
The strap be a MAC-11
I’m so relaxed when I shoot, but it won’t be no happy ending
You have that out here, right? (*chuckles*)
Got Grandpa’s pistol, it’s been through the coldest wars
The 48 still does the trick: that’s Tony Hawk’s
Is .48 even a calibre? I don’t know! I don’t handle guns!
I’m from London - we learn how to punch
You better, throw somethin’
Or I’m rocking (rock in) hands like Joe Budden
Hella strong, uppercuts’ll raise money: telethon
Cans at the back of the whip, we get the wedding on
I’ll slap the bitch outta him, make her put the kettle on!
I’m wit’ them boxers, he gettin’ socked like the top drawer
If your iPhone’s got Pikachu, then I’mma rob yours
(Still need that shit…)
Genie in Aladdin, I drop jaws
He ain’t what he’s cracked up to be: Rob Ford
I’m in good health, you can get your body checked
I ain’t seen a trace of a body yet
How can you call yourself an artist when you couldn’t even body Sketch?
End of Round 3, and I’m feelin’ hella strong!
I ain’t goin’ anywhere - Organik, put the kettle on
Let’s go