[Round 1: Illipsis]
So, this was supposed to be Mook and Farrell, a legend and a mid-tier
But Mook ain't want a legend, and also, he doesn't live here!
But this an easy win, 'cause E. been a plebian
You battled Dot?
It's Illipsis, boy! You 'bout to feel like you battling three of him!
I'm an egregious reach regent, shit's incredibly real
Think Glenn from Walking Dead...'cause off the bat, I pop out ahead in the field!
I mean, shit- let's go!
I mean, shit, you know the truth
You ain't bringing home the views
But your vids got a little pop...boy, you're Minnesota Luke!
I ain't expect a fan to battle me
I'll crush his hopes; try it
Put the barrel on him; if he barks, lose the pep, see him go quiet
What's amounting to your weight loss plan?
He looks spritely, but don't try it
Went from Coke, to Diet Coke, to, uh...looks like the Coke Diet!
And you battle to get bitches: that shit is strange, bro
'Cause they tend to fuck with winners, as if he ain't know
He catch her out with his opponents, beat to chick, and stay close
Then trail her home to see your chance to win a bae go!
You trailer-hitchin'
Your taste in women fit Bates' description: it's misery
Pull my fam with the hammer, there's crazy writtens
Payment given
If you placing him in the same position
Compare E. Farrell to me, you frontin' bands: it ain't Jane's Addiction!
I'm playing with him, same with Civic
Came prepared to snap, star
I beat poets on the road, so I don't care to act hard
He told Reverse he could get laid to rest like lazy sex
Lazy, heh?
It's like you're fucking trash, how you're getting laid to waste
And he dump from the hip like old people
Sold that with his typical swag
Now, boy you thought was cold lost to me: I GOT THIS SHIT IN THE BAG!
'Cause if he say he pushing beef, he going cow-tippin'
Talking extra karyotype: down syndrome
Ralph Wiggum 'bout friction? That's something I doubt, pimpin'
Go gorilla, just updating this mark's angles: Maoism
Dawg, you getting bodied in a round where I just used four schemes
Got a grave for this Yankee fitted...and dirt to kick where his dead ass be like a New York meme!
That's just salt in the wound
Tout a service, time for sage advice
Any fan'll tell you that I'm cumin with heat, and you ain't as nice
This pap reek of desperation, and now he gon' pay the price
Paprika? Chill, E, now Ky and them gotta bump me to raise the spice!
Talkin' 'bout a Young Spice Rack
That's not the punch I pack?
Gonna fuck around and knock your whole bloodline flat!
I do 'em greasy
If it come down to the wire when I'm cooking, it ain't nothing for me to get your grill brushed like that!
Collision course: the encore'll leave you numb like that
Empty bottle: make him wonder where the upside at
I'll peg this chump's type fast
You a punchline cat with a tough-guy act
They promised me a main course, now I got a fun-sized pack of sun-dried snacks!
Die fast
Let's go!
[Round 1: E. Farrell]
He said something about me doing coke and losing weight
Sometimes I do coke, sometimes I do dope; that depends
But on some real shit, you have such fucking skinny jeans, I'm embarrassed as fuck and really just want to get fat again
Vancity, Canada!
Welcome to the battle scene- yeah, that too
Welcome to the battle scene, bitch!
It's been a long time coming like I ain't have to skeet quick
I should've battled him in June, gave Nat a mean clip
Then re-matched here to son him twice on some Tatooine shit!
You home, but if we gamble, then your luck'll run out
Like Santa Claus canceled, ain't gon' be no bucks on the house!
You be punching, but you tough as a mouse
Red Wings: I eat this pussy, even with the taste of blood in my mouth!
What the fuck is you ‘bout?
It wasn’t smart, taking action
Think you got a shot, but off-the-rocker: Mark David Chapman!
Your name’s Illipsis: why look for respect?
That means words that aren’t even important enough to put into text
But they pushing you next, and I’m the one who’s here to show the way?
Well, go and say I’m a benchwarmer: that means I ain’t known to play!
A motivational desktop calendar is how my flow’s portrayed
‘Cause off top, I’ll have ‘em ripped with throwaway quotes for days!
Now, that’s enough rapping ‘bout rap
I’m crazy, Lips
I will steal your phone just to tweet, “I won!”- then favorite it
Then upload the chick that you’re almost dating’s naked flicks
To an album that I’ll name, “Girl Who Curved Me’s Greatest Hits”
You left GZ drunk, was doing more than takin’ sips
For the record, I’ll put down a Guinness and break your shit
Then gouge your eyes out, make them drip
Then see your profile change a bit with a thumbnail like I just switched my Facebook pic!
That means you’ll get ghost with the hands: that’s a Ouija board
Or see the metal in secs: that’s a Beetleborg
As far as beefin’, I’m just seasoned more
And he’s a gourmet chef, but this a spice rack that ain’t nobody seen before
But there’s a reason for this match that seems ignored
You want the Don’t Flop champ next, just to even scores?
But if you see an eagle soar, it’s ‘cause I brought the peace ashore
It’s America stopping the North from getting to Soul: bitch, this the Korean War!
I’m different!
And this faggot’s getting worked, that’s the fruits of labor
Willie pulled the plug on your career; I’m just here to, do a favor
Then pronounce your last name wrong just to prove it later
It’s funny how Schumacher’s cause of death is euthanasia!
Yeaaaah! Asian kids make shoes…
Know I’m saying, Sean? It’s crazy how you’re still talking smack
Deep-dish pizza: what I’m cooking’s putting Ill on the map!
The kid been so poppin’, but I will not relax
I hold it down while turning up: that’s a pill bottle cap!
So, don’t talk to me ‘bout how your motto be “Quality”
‘Til you battle in Australia and cop a koala tee!
Honestly, you should probably quit
This is quantity and quality, and you’re just quality shit!
Swallow a dick, man!
M-Town
[Round 2: Illipsis]
So I wasn’t on Ganik vs. Gully
I would’ve asked for a known threat
But neither knew I should’ve been captain, so both dead
Mercenary: I’d have whooped the new jack around all head
Shit, if I showed up, I’d have cooked the whole class like it’s Home Ec!
And I ain’t trying to fight for my rounds like it’s their fault, though
It’s just hard to find someone with stripes in the crowd: Where’s Waldo?
So now it’s a mirror match
What you doing, Farrell? You in peril
Pen’ll put a fake bitch through the mirror like it’s Lewis Carroll
Grinning with a clear body: got that Cheshire Cat swagger
Have a fake cap dump in your tea like the Mad Hatter
I told Spice he ain’t doing shit: I control Spice
Ain’t want a 3-0, then it’s B.O.: he gon’ need that Old Spice!
Was that delivery rushed? What you afraid to express?
Can’t catch a break on tracks, that screech is painful at best
I’m railroading his career to a Canadian death
And now there’s blood on my hands…
BITCH, I GET THE SCRUB OUT THE DAMN SPOT LIKE LADY MACBETH!
A guilty conscience
Get paid in blood money, got filthy pockets
Orchestrate your organ placement: the Villainous Philharmonic
I said Lady MacBeth, but his wifey is really Scottish
Gave her dick until she blue in the face: William Wallace!
It takes a brave heart to fuck her, she ain’t out to hide the facts
Super Mario: your boo gets around behind your back!
And now there’s nothing left to pursue
This chump thought “The Icebreaker” was a wrestling move!
She the only fucking women ever slept with this dude
So now your shirt size got more fucking exes than you!
I see him channeling his rage, say he might tote a weapon
Angry midget: man’s existence is a microaggression
Don’t know why I run my mouth, he’s like, “Guys, I’m gutter now!”
Fucking hillbilly, probably doing drive-bys from his house!
Well, I’m different: I’m not the one to start boxing with
I let my hands talk for me: they make dark promises
Fuck around, get him buried in a large obelisk
I got a box made by Farrell: that’s a sarcophagus!
Say that shit’s not true
Bitch, fuck you!
Curse if open up the grave and rip son’s crew on sight like it’s King Tut’s tomb!
So face death or a new biz
I mean, shit, he could watch me practice it
Try as he might, he see my work in despair: Ozymandias!
Your whole style suggests that you get no paper
Try a stunt, then get benched: that’s the Yellow Ranger
Squad full of yes men, like “Forget those haters!”
This wigger looking like he dressing in an echo chamber
But he’s loyal to his team, he shows that crew love
And that’s something I respect: I gotta dap dude up
You really go the extra mile repping Man U, huh?
‘Cause you even put the Man U back in “Man, you suck!”
That’s Two!
[Round 2: E. Farrell]
So, y’all remember the cover of the Goosebumps book Night of the Living Dummy? (Yeah!)
Now, picture his jaw drawn with two vertical lines like that isn’t funny
Plus, this clown is a Smack fan, and looks like a ventriloquist doll…so I’mma sit him down with the backhand!
You’s a fucking trash can on any given try
Getting put under the wing and fried like a chicken thigh
There won’t be shit to make up when y’all see ‘Lipsis in disguise
Gene Simmons’ last show: this is your final kiss goodbye!
Word to every locker that you’d fit inside at Hipster High
The only way you could be less fresh is if you died!
I mean, say you got a ounce of swag, the shit’s a lie
Your name’s Nat, and that’s ‘cause you buggin’ if you ever even claiming you a little fly!
Like, l’il homie, you don’t pose a threat
The type to die from a bong hit
Ain’t even strong enough to hold…your breath!
But you probably knew this, so like the Gospel of Judas in the future, gon’ see yourself getting stoned to death!
Now that’s some Biblical shit that Illipsis would spit
The fans got him thinking, “Rapping ‘bout Christians’ll hit!
Bitches is quick to eat it up, like some Kibbles n’ Bits!”
But like the Jewish Bible, I’mma get to flipping the script
Like, against Isaac Knox, you had questioned his practice
It was a “devilish” act and one “hell” of a tactic
Disrespectful and bad, bitch!
‘Cause some substances best kept unlocked behind closed doors: think medicine cabinets
Now, I prayed before my flight here, just out of habit
That my jet wouldn’t crash, and trip end in a casket
God spoke, He said, “You’re good, but one request when you’re at it:
When you get to the battle, tell Illipsis that I said he’s a faggot!”
I said, “My Lord, you the homie! What else the fuck I need to do?
I’ll strike him with the fear of God: that’s how your son was treated, too!”
That means I’ll nail you at the cross ‘til my knuckles bleed and blue
You’ll wake up three days later, saying, “WHAT WOULD JESUS DO!?”
Yeah, Jesus, dude!
So, even if you’ll plan on murking E
I’ll have you in front of WorldStar, like the planet Mercury
And it’ll cut you to the core
Your atheist friends will see your views, and be like, “Sorry! We don’t fuck with you no more!”
Like, let me guess: you’re fucking real edgy, so you ain’t trying to be saved
Like Moses, we can see that’s what’s caused a divide in your wave
The shit I said was jokes, ‘cause on the real, God loves you
But if I came out the womb looking like this fucking kid, I’d probably have a grudge, too!
See, I’m just jealous you went viral more times than me
And got looks from the Web that not even spiders see
Makes me wanna use a real gun as a prop, fire three
Antics will be the death of you, bitch: that’s Lyme Disease!
Don’t try with me, like you on a level deeper
But I smoke mad joints out of Bible paper, so I probably won’t reach Heaven either!

[Round 3: Illipsis]
I don’t know where this guy came from: Cotton-Eye Joe
But out of all the battle rappers, you’re the softest I know
And I’m not the first one that you got bodied by, though
But I’ll still mock him for the room like Tommy Wiseau!
You got me feeling like a magician, I thought the audience knew
But you can miss the sleight of hand if you ain’t watch for the cues
First, I got a volunteer put in a box for the views
And then, a couple minutes later, saw a body in two!
That’s pledge and turn, but enter third, I’ll be leaving a trick exposed
‘Cause I’m outside of the box with prestige: I’mma kill a clone
I’ll break bills while you been ducking, trying to write iller schemes
Quentin Coldwater: see, you just fucked yourself over trying to find filler, E!
You hungry and ducking battles: fuck different, you’re unusual
Wanna play God? I turn the mob against you like The Crucible!
Coward will say he good in a scrap, with a big smile
Then say he’ll catch a case if I assail him, I’m just thinking, “Witch trials?”
‘Cause his style? Just a subconscious juxtaposition
Of guns and drugs that he’s grippin’ with a cuddly image
Well? The way a man’ll clock a false face: where’s the BatCave?
Homie, if they feel it in the traps, it was back dey!
Man, saying that you spraying with the drum, the ‘matic, the iron, E?
When the only clapping gotta come from fans of DRAMATIC IRONY!?
I fuck with E! It’s tongue-in-cheek! Y’all really think E’s clever?
Son style one title: PG’s Big Adventure!
Saying that he’s different suggests that I can’t copy him
All you do is ad hominem, then add homonyms ad nauseum!
I made fun of it in the first, but, dawg, you do it, too
My guy, your whole style cheesy: Gouda for you!
Nah, on the contrary, we’re fans, but facing a great barrier
‘Cause what’ll mass effect when you keep playing the same character!?
He mentioned violence, its expressive license
Liar looking like he never learned what exercise is
With a pen and right fist, and with me, every line hits
I hook money: boy floating like the Nevermind kid!
Grit him like this, I have weaponized wit
You are such a con man you crashed the Enterprise ship!
You a gentrified prince, and since Jeff your sidekick
He could get lifted by the strap: I Jazzy-Jeff’d your sidekick!
Bitch, whatever god you pray to, guarantee they not listenin’
I’m Ob Nixilis, iron rod scriptures of lost innocence
Cooking each opponent: the plate turn to hot dishes
But I eat whatever food I’ve been given: I’m omnivorous!
Knuckle-dragging, cave-dwelling troglodyte!
Gloves off, I got him iced like a hockey fight
Harsh winter, bandwagon looking soft tonight
Ho, I came to turn Surprise Party to the Donner type!
Ruffled style: we get compared because the pen is filthy
Daddy laughing at your quotes, and that’s respect to Willie
Guess you laughing at the thought that you could ever kill me
Bitch, you aren’t close to my level, and you never will be
It’s Illipsis, king whisper, I’m in business
You shit-talk, I talk that shit: it’s a big difference

[Round 3: E. Farrell]
OK, so I got some, like, real shit to talk about…
I always wanted to battle Nat 'cause that's my mother's name...what a shame!
This like my fresh white T just got a mustard stain
My bars are like sex slaves that escaped (Why's that?)
Them bitches off the fucking chain!
And got these bums shaking in the streets, with no cup of change
YOU FUCKING LAME! Goofy as can be
First opponent I ever had that's got 3-0'd way worse by puberty than me!
The type to hit on ten year-olds like it don't seem real crazy
With excuses like, "She said she was a leap-year baby!"
My dude! That is not the way it works!
I would normally tell you to grow up, but that would probably make it worse!
You live in your grandma's basement and get hassled
When she catches practicing your raps in the mirror...for text battles!
That's all facts!
That's how we know that you're heartless!
I bet your Tinder profile says, "Looking for: Opponents to spar with!"
You have a swear jar at your house, and cannot fight
Your mousepad's the only place you curse or move a hand on sight!
That's all right!
Your life's an actual circus
I had to touch on that like screen protectors: barely scratching the surface
And shout-out Cop', but this the match-up that's worthless
'Cause you had a debatable with a dude who choose to lose EVERY BATTLE ON PURPOSE!
That's why he's Kylie Jenner if you heard that 'Lipsis blowing up
I'll have him die from just a line, like he's sniffing dope that's cut
But if he 'bout to get it twisted like he licked an open dutch
Like a hula girl's top, I'll split this bitch's coconut!
Malt 40 bust your head: I call that grip a Cobra Clutch
Then raise fours like skateboard decks: they flipping over trucks
Military-grade straps, and if I lift, the globe is fucked
I'll have a rack looking different like I hit a Solo cup
Black Friday sale: I'll put up on a Target for cheap
Then peel off on him in the van and leave a mark in the streets
With a goon on both sides, both armed with the heat
That's three dots in Illipsis' mouth: you are what you eat!
See, this what happens when you gassed up and playing with fire
They seeing smoke, well, I'm taking it higher
I won't be satisfied to say I retired
So I can go one year without someone misspelling my name on a flyer
Guys, don't be mad, I'mma say it as well
I guess I kinda made up for that 'cause I just fucking gave him an L
See, this my third main stage-
He was supposed to say it
This my third main stage, and I ain't give a weak prep
I put in more leg work than when a millipede steps
Win, lose, or draw, it's time I get to killing these bets
So, with that being said, LIL G'S NEXT!!!
That was a great battle and all, but listen, fam
I ain't gon' share at once if you don't make me some of that fucking food you be posting to Instagram!
Man, let's go, man!