[Round 1: Arsonal]
Ayo, aye Charron
You said my name first bar of ya battle
I know you ain’t think that was actually gon’ make me mad
I mean thinkin’ about another man in your battle bruh
That’s full fag The Saurus just whooped your fucking ass
You need to get back in yo bag
You don’t do rematches, I don’t do rematches
But everybody in here know I do play Capture The Flag
Now once again I’m here not in the States, I’m in the provinces
I’m on another n***a stage being another n***a consequence
Up in another n***a face snatching this ugly n***a confidence
I’m supposed to be having a battle against Swave Sevah
N***a sound like Cookie Monster
He up here having a battle against his sinuses
I swear to God I’m not continuing
Until you blow your fucking brains away
Oh you gon’ act like you don’t wanna take this tissue?
Well can you at least try this nasal spray?
Enough with the jokes, we both Americans so I'ma keep it 100
I will bend ya men, make my palm meet them frames to show them I could lend a hand
Shoot ya Mother Mother for 15 seconds
I will Instagram with two clean Mexican Mossbergs
Call ‘em spic and span, or Cortez and Uno Lavoz
I’m from an ignorant land land where n***as clip they men for a brick of 10
You’ll die from this AR
Why? It was the written plan...D-I-A-R-Y, diary, written plan
I stood on that corner with base like I’m Cal Ripken, damn
Ya’ll wondering, "Ars, UDubb biggest event in two days
Why you ain’t in it, fam?"
Well, this chess, not checkers
I own that, this my gift to fans
I had a vision plan: fallback from the rapping, become the businessman
Now I wrestle, AND get paid off everybody that enter my ring N***a, I’m Vince McMahon!
I said I’m pimping and I’ll make that big bitch Jaz battle come hustle for me
You ain’t immortal in combat, you Immortal Technique understudy
I throw a bullet at a Mossberg, shotgun, no huddle for me
You a Mark like Wahlberg, you Ted Thunder Buddy
And I heard you bone thugs for the love of money
Is that true? Cause my n***as believe that
I take ya Father good arm and Christopher Reeves that
Once upon a time you was the man
Now ya image is saying wack
You was on top, I press your buttons and you fell to the bottom fast as vending machine snack
You must have been looking through [?] binoculars when Rex got the win
Bishop and Ganik called my phone with your ex conferenced in
I mean just cause I got a PS4 don’t mean I ain’t gon’ play with your ex box again
I DX and tell her to suck it like X-Pac and ‘em, bars
Sometimes I forget bars which means I really grind
And I practiced, I practiced, but I still couldn’t remember any lines against Charron
So yeah, I pulled out my phone, I did that plenty times
That just goes to show whenever I’m in the gym I reach for the metal anytime
At least I finished mine
Even the tortoise beat the hare to the finish line
I take a pretty 9, go to your son favorite Chuck E. Cheese and shoot up the kiddie line
I got bars and disrespect with a witty mind
Me and ya bitch spend plenty of time
And when we F, we 69: that’s a Fendi sign
Bars after bars after bars, that’s all ya’ll heard from me
You couldn’t see me through those lenses with laser optic surgery
My shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
And you can’t spell bars without putting that Ars in it!
[Round 1: Swave Sevah]
Yo King Of The Dot, I hope ya’ll prepared for a show
Yo this n***a so black, where’d he go?
Organik, I ain’t gon’ Rap till he come back out
Ya’ll already gave him the advantage by calling this event “Blackout”
What’s that about?
This playing field should be an even forum
What? That tight-ass Canadian tank top he wore last time got ya’ll jigging for em
Peep it dawg, I ain’t come this way to be avoided
I had to get a [?] to get across that border
I came here to destroy him, oh, there you are
Now understand you’re my man and I ain’t here to fuck you up, I’m just here to spa
Nah, I’m lying, bro, I can’t deny it yo
Ars', I know we cool, but you still dying, though
That iron blow, I fill ya mind and soul with all kinds of holes
I clap thunder, got all ya cats running: feel like I’m Lion-O
You’s a hoe-ass n***a! How we doing this, Ars?
You confusing me, your body language movement is off
Is it disrespect, or we violating, or we using these bars?
Is it amusement and art, or bruises and scars, n***a?
Cause I came to scorch ya, torch ya
Find a chapel, grab a scalpel, scalp you and drag you up to the altar
Your life is a price in itself that should of cost ya
If God requires a sacrifice you who I'ma offer, off ya
Burst the Dezi, head shot…[?]…all ya dregs looking like burnt spaghetti
But since you my man, and I’m having a nice week
I ain’t gonna cover you with dirt, just with a white sheet!
[Round 2: Arsonal]
I advise you just keep it all bars
I ain’t the n***a you wanna get personal with
You battled on my league
In the contract lays your real name and your real age, if you really wanna get on some personal shit
Now that’s the type of information I could get surgical with
But since you keep tellin’ them you my man
Do you wanna keep it all bars, or do you really wanna get on some personal shit?
I'ma keep it all bars!
Ya bitch love me, she been reaching out, she was tryna let this dick drill her
I mean her weave ratchet but that Bun B on point, that bitch Triller
I got a pistol on the car dash she in, I’ll let Kim kill her
While this gay lord watching me fuck her: Ben Stiller
You went to the Philippines and battled Batas
And got zipped like the red leather that’s in Thriller
Honestly I wanted to look in the eyes of his killer
By all means, out of all things, you lose to HIM, n***a!?
A Chinese rapper with all schemes, call that a Chinchilla
Swave fabricating, his imagination is fascinating
He think he just battling some dried-up Grape
Well, that’s a raisin
My stash amazing
You ain’t seeing this straight: that’s an Asian
That hospital finna go out of business: I’m lackin’ patience
No man is perfect, but God is, and never has he made a bad creation
Even his enemy was an angel at first, and that was Satan
So let me guess, Swave
You be out on your block, package-slinging
False accusation
You rather stay in the cut, so I'mma sprinkle the truth in your lacerations
I'ma treat you like a bitch with hairy legs, n***a
Meaning a bullet soon as you get near
Fuck a razor, ain’t no need for me to shave n***as
‘I feel sorry for your Mother’
What you say about my Mama?
Bang bang bang! Put him in the grave, n***a ya’ll don’t get that?
This battle gon’ be 3-0, dawg: Larenz Tate with the braids, n***a!
Ya’ll don’t remember that? Harold at the red light
We'll let Swave get seen in traffic
I'mma stick him with Earvin Johnson needle, then ask, ‘Do you believe in magic?’
I come to your aid without a cure
I’m the meanest bastard, and you’ll never beat me
You like Frazier tryna swing with Cassius
I’m really strapped
Your guns pop up like a genie’s magic
Swave, you shook, or you just lookin’ through Afeni’s glasses?
Afeni Shakur, that’s Pac Mom
I’m on SeveringSwave.com
They don’t hate you 'cause you black
It’s cause you wack, n***a!
Stop cryin’!
I’m black as hell, like you said, they don’t knock mine
This black-on-black primetime
But we surrounded by the Whites, like the circumference of a stop sign
Now what you gon’ tell me? How you turn this grape into fine wine?
When I been killing n***as from the city of Harlem before Grind Time
Hate killing, but got a murder between those is a fine line
I’ll pull it and he’ll catch bullet bullet, Buju Banton
Now, aye Pen, ya’ll can cry
I mean, 'cause this a team Homi: that mean ya’ll ALL could die
I’m one n***a walking with two K’s: Karl Kani
What other knife you got in your arsenal that’s as sharp as I?
I see my enemies vivid, you Jiminy Cricket: you just talkin’ fly
Man, this rebel armed, he know that, that’s what caught his eye
Only thing is this rebel arms stay swinging: I’m like that Carlton guy
N***a my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
Round two they can’t spell bars without putting that ars in it
[Round 2: Swave Sevah]
Yo, Arsonal Da Rebel
That’s who Darrell Jones speaking as?
Well, whatever consequence a rebel gets, n***a, you need it fast
You too disrespectful, somebody need to teach you class
Where I’m from, if a father got a rebellious son, he beat his ass
See, the past two years, there been a rise in Homi stock
'Cause my team been on a warpath, a lot of bodies drop
You can joke ‘til you get hit by my karate chop
Or I make a call and get you done worse than Mazaradi Fox
Grape Street Crip? N***a please, you a grapefruit
I cut you so deep the first blood that leak will look like grape juice!
'Til the air hit it and you left for dead with ya breath skipping
And the blood soak through ya clothes looking like you set-tripping
Run and tell all of his boys Ars ended up bloody
I fucked him up, gut punch, Ars throwing up bloody
You tried that funny shit with Charron
But if you mush me, you getting an all expense paid trip to see Tookie, pussy
Why’d you name yourself "Arsonal" anyway?
And don’t tell me cause you got many K’s and your semis spray
Nah, you can’t convince me you some sharpshooting expert
When you mentioning weapons straight off the Cartoon Network
I can’t imagine having a conversation about weapons with Ars
He like, "Swave, they building a factory for Smith & Wesson or on Mars?" Fuck outta here
What you know about airing TECs ‘til your trigger finger blistered and you gotta get your hearing checked?
You know nothing, Ars a runner
I bang mine so many times, the kickback gave me carpal tunnel
But Ars my brother, and I’m having a nice week
So I’m not gon’ cover you with dirt, just with a white sheet
Team Homi, n***a

[Round 3: Arsonal]
Alright, you mention something about teaching me and shit, right?
Oh hol’ up, Bonnie! Hey, Bonnie!
See, I wasn’t gon’ diss you
But you said something about me, you bitch, you
Why don’t you pull out that motherfuckin' Bible and say Daylyt ain’t hit, too!?
But see, you talked about me supposedly eating a female’s ass
When your man suck tranny dick and come home and kiss you
Alright, now the third round’s the most memorable, so I'mma school him
I gotta teach ya how to do it with class but whoop your ass just for principle
See you was cut from the team before you even got your physical
My gun a boss, that shit fire before you even get the interview
Now you tryna battle and beat me with intellect
But what about those who don’t catch it? They can’t intercept
Then I become the bigger threat
In these streets I’m link like the Cuban around Jigga neck
I always got some iron in my jeans, I keep my denims pressed
I keep plenty heat, stick a knife through any beef before my dinner blessed
Now I Swizz Beatz, my cousin did a bid for some dope floating up shits creek
He home now, no longer is he state property [?]
First n***a think shits sweet, before this shit sweeps, three n***as stomp him with both shoes
Alive we bury Swave six feet
You real? Why?
'Cause you touring with Immortal Technique? Got a new deal?
Hollow get Lux, and I’m stuck with the deep-voiced n***a from Dru Hill!?
You ain’t get Ars', 'cause you nice and got that Mook feel
You got Ars 'cause you lowered your price: how the truth feel?
I’m locin’, blue steel
Give his big body a coupe feel
Once I chop this n***a down to size, he’ll get his roof peeled
Oh I keep live bands, give you that Roots feel
But this like being on Death Row with No Limit
Swave, you done signed with a Snoop deal!
My bars crazy, I don’t need sign language to let my hands speak
Cause I throw wild punches in a circular motion like I was Zangief
You Rap on instrumentals I saran beats
You ain’t a Battle Rap legend, you old, you’s an antique
I mean [?] deaf, or the same vehicle as Professor X
I have my young n***as draw on you, call that an Etch A Sketch
You a gigantic asshole, meaning your rectum stretched
You wanna meet God? Heavens How High? Ask Red and Meth
N***a you out here rapping for money, cause you tryna get your license back
I’m out here rapping for the culture, and I’m tryna bring the lifeless back
They drive the rides authentic, you could never put a price on that
So all that tae kwon do, n***a we been fighting in the streets before the Ryu vs Bison match
You ain’t the type to scrap my hood ain’t nothin’ like a frat
Glove on the left hand of Jackson, I’m bringing Michael back
Why this ain’t a title match? Cause you got to earn your respect
That’s why I'ma cremate your ashes then urn you before you light the match
Now I remember the first time I got my coke stash hit
I got locked up, I was labeled as a low-class Crip
You fake rich, don’t get your poor ass stripped
You a female dog with a fractured tailbone
You ain’t nothin’ but a broke ass bitch
And a snitch, but before I snitch n***a you gon’ have to bust my canopy
Cut off both hands, all 10 toes and kidnap my family
I still ain’t ratting
Mama rebel really made a man of me
And my Grandma told me to kill that n***a Swave, take it to court, and then plead insanity
N***a, my shit is real, my shit is raw, my shit is authentic
You can’t spell bars without putting that Ars' in it

[Round 3: Swave Sevah]
Now, let's talk you Jersey n***as and the history when I get ‘em
'Cause it ain’t no secret or mystery, I kill ‘em
Take ‘em out the game early, hang jersey, James Worthy status
Retire them, but remember, them as greats like Bird and Magic
Nah, see if ya’ll thought that then ya’ll very foolish
I said "retire them", but I’m thinkin’ more like Hank Gathers and Reggie Lewis
You got a million viewers? Good!
I hope all your YouTube fans see me
Beat you to death in this ring like Boo Boo Mancini n***a
I'mma host your funeral service, no need to prolong
Your ghost floating up the heavens, we waving, so long, this n***a’s no more
Organik about to catch this body on footage and try to sell it like he [?]
Hold on, n***a you really think you beat Hitman?
Let's see...Red, Suge, Solo...your whole squad I damn near despair
Now it’s your turn, I got the type of bars ya’ll can’t withstand
Mad punches over ya head, I’m like Ip Man
Toronto, I hope ya’ll don’t think ya’ll need him
See, ya’ll invite the man, he tries to bite the hand that’s tryna feed him
See, against this, he dissed Drake, that was a mistake
He was the reason why ya’ll battled, he put up the cake
See, if I was Drake, I would've went all out to show you how we play
Told Chubbs rally up the thugs and drag you down G-way
I would of tied him up, tell Hush make sure he get molly whop but don’t kill him just yet save the stretching for Johnny Rocks
Don’t stop ‘til he recount every one of his statements that have Charron dressed in all purple
But I’m not Drake and Ars you my man and I’m having a good week
So, I’m not gon’ cover you with dirt, just with a white-nah, fuck that!
N***a, you dumb wack!
I came to demolish him, dump lead
Remember bunk bed coffins? He getting the bottom one!
Team fucking Homi, n***a!