[Round 1: Charron]
Yo, judging by the shirt I guess you're repping North Star
But if anyone's impressed with your bars, you got it ass backwards like dyslexic porn stars
Listen to this shit, look it, c'mon literally everyone here knows this bitch will get murked
Yellow is your group color? Did one your wiggers piss on your shirt?
My freestyle game could murk this fake, my words are great
Did your shirt get replaced with a urinal cake?
I had enough of your crew, you're a sucker it's true
Siamese prostitutes wouldn't give two fucks about you
You claim you're improving, who the fuck cares?
You couldn't step your shit up if you moved a toilet upstairs
You need to fuck a bitch, bitch, stop being a coward
You bring girl's on dates and they watch you eat for an hour
Head up to your room and your meal's devoured
And you leave 'em about as red as your feet in the shower
I knew this man, listen, look around, his mom screws for crack And she's on more heads here than a Blue Jay hat
Y'all know my flowing is the best so I'll put this homo to death
You couldn't rock a crowd if you stoned them to death

[Round 2: Charron]
Yo my flow's smooth like butter, yeah I'm Clay Aiken but you're the white Ruben Studdard
I'm blazing you back like haze in a sack
I was gonna say you never laid in the past but judging by the frame that you have
It looks like you're pregnant with an ape and giraffe
There's no baby in that this faggot's just fat
Everyday he looks in the mirror with his homeboys and puts on his j's and his cap
And says to his wigger friends "Does this make me look black?"
You're a little fucking bitch and I'm killing you now
My freestyle's game and I'm realing it now
Cause listen man, yo I keep going I established that your mom is dirty
The amount of cocks she's taken today is equivalent to this number on this jersey
Wig on him quick, you're a bitch and I'm sick, ain't no one here fucking with Trick
C'mon man you're the lamest excuse, everyone knows this clown will get murked
The closest you'll be to a king is the crown on your shirt
Listen, I'm killing this cat I'm ill when I rap
I don't care if you say my freestyles go for a billion cat
And listen I keep going cause this cat's a fake
I'll keep going my raps are great and you have to make a new mixtape cause you're album's fake
[Round 3: Charron]
Yo, man your shit is embarrassing
And more played out than a needle mixed with some heroin
Or any line saying this is King Of The Dot not the insert comparison
Listen, I'm killing you right now, I'm abusing this rapper
I'll fuck you up worse than Organik gonna do to Dizaster
Listen, he still thinks he's black like, "Yo I'm not truly a cracker."
He rocked black cause he knew I'd murder him and he's going to the funeral after
C'mon man you talk about guns? But in Lindsey it's a hick
Town, there's no gats that are booming
He thinks his fucking hometown's crazy cause last week the first black person moved in
But you're a crazy hick person
When he lost his virginity he was drastically moving
Too bad he couldn't outrun Uncle Skeeter at the family reunion
Your hick decisions are always proper
He's an awkward stalker that fondles his father's daughter for tonic water
And listen man I keep going, you can call me a bulimic and skinny, that's clever and quick
But you're like a bulimic's food cause you'll never be shit
I keep going, my rap's rocking while this cat's jocking
I'll fuck you up so bad you'll wanna change your name like Chad Johnson
Easy