Battle Transcriptions

Head I.C.E. vs. Pat Stay


[Round 1: Head I.C.E.]

I came here to break dinner with niggas
I’m a wolf, I share the corpse when I finish the spitter

They said Pat Stay, I said Pat’s great
Find me on the couch in the house and where Pat stay
Fix me a dinner bitch, I want Pat’s plate
Waiting for your ass to come home so I could wax Stay

She nervous, she tellin me yo he cross-dress
Ain’t nothing bout him threatening at all
Don’t wanna hear that, where the bear at
'Cause now he got to step in the woods to get his dear (deer) back
Rappers don’t be talking my talk unless they air that
So you say you walking that walk, to me it’s Airmax

Tired of waiting so I shot her
They’ll tell you how many times at the doctor
Pull your heart out your boxers
Man up, I’ll put you down like a boxer

So you’re sleeping at your court nigga
Get your issue, you tried dissin a New York nigga
You bra-strap, come to that combat
Payin titties for ballsack, I’ll blow off your ballcap

Hollohan’ll get shot with you
Armed criminal, lay them down with a cop issue
I’m on your block with the rock movin
Tellin niggas how we survive all those cop shootings

He tellin suckas he sucka free
They catch a tantrum and first thing he do, suck his teeth
Your bars wack, fuck if you like
I sack brother then box cutter, fuck up his height
When you rap, you sound my color, fuck all the hype
Till I look you into your eyes like we nothing alike

So Pat here, Pat smear
Niggas ain’t checking for pussy that got dad’s beards
You the laughingstock, we won’t respect you if you had a flag or you rap like Pac
Was all good till them buyers came in and that last laugh with that last blast and left that lobby painted
Runnin through grass, trash, glass, givin stacks to cabs, and get back where I be hangin
Me and my gun been through so much shit together - potty training

I said but wait, let me see that moonwalk
The Halifax hockey coach, I’ll sick my goon on you
Then tell him to moon on you

[Round 1: Pat Stay]

Since that shit I said against Marv and Thesaurus, y’all gave me a bad name
They say I’m a shock value rapper now but they don’t know the biography of Pat Stay
See I have autistic family as well, and my father’s on his last legs
My homie just got murdered too, they popped him with his back sway

But I guess I’m the bad guy now so my opponent’s be on some hero shit
I’m already set up to lose so fuck it, I say what I want, I ain’t scared of shit
You playin russian roulette with a gun to your head, watch the barrel spin
Pat Stay, Bruce B’s last bang through a collapsed vein, let the hero win (heroin)

See everyone went soft since then, in the crowd lookin like they just lost a friend
Scared to react to my shit so they stand there like a bitch and just nod their heads
Thesaurus didn’t care bout them father lines, why the hell y’all upset?
Autistic people see me in the streets and be like “rethpect dawg, rethpect!”

I’m that Scotian lion, a cobra bitin
The East Coast giant, you can’t stone Goliath
Kobe Bryant in the quarterfinals with no one by him and he’s on fire
So bright, you’d think my brain had ultraviolet bulbs inside it
Somali pirate, get your fucking boat off my island
Bow on my side, I’d close one eye *fwwwp* you’re floating beside it
A storm is arising, the planets formed an alignment
You’re in the eye of a hurricane twirling inside it
Boom! You hit the ground in a vertical spiral
Barbarian, I skin wolves and rock their fur for survival

Yeah, give me that eye contact
'Fore I contact with your eyeball like an eye-contact
Time bomb wrapped around you like a python
When my watch tap, your Head explode, put some I.C.E. on that


[Round 2: Head I.C.E.]

Pat you gon do what outside the flat screen
Pat, you half a fag and half a drag queen
I smack both tonsils down on your neck
Use my soles, it’ll look like Bronchos hit your chest
You ain’t never catch a body, what you frontin for?
Just lookin like a body, keep that frontin on
You probably feelin like you safe but I doubt that
By time Organik say “Ice, chill” I’m on my house Jack

Probably told Loaded Lux I had to body somethin
He was comin at my moms, I hit the gotti button
Bare hand kills but look like shotty’s touched him
How I’m supposed to let Pat live if my daddy wouldn’t

We off that, your two carriers one pitcher in the lookout, I ball stack
You lookin like dinner with new silverware, fork that
Feel your flow is fine wine that’s why you shake like a moscato bottle, cork that
If y’all forget about the ransom money, and they never get they balls back

I put that on Devon Stone
For every nigga you gave head and bone
When every bullet fled the chrome
There’ll be nothing but empty Pepsi cans left from where you and Hollohan be gettin stoned

He mad right now
He ready to take off both earrings and stop being a fag right now
You look like your dad right now
I bet you still lose to Swave Sevah’s pops in a flash right now

Dumb shit you say, I’m still a man behind those bars, the Metula way
I would ask for more rounds but he’ll get outclassed and pussed out, the Zab Juda way
So somebody tell this hash brown that if he class clown
He shouldn’t play grounds around the school today

And tell Peter, your punk brother
He more than nuts for asking about me, he cum-colored

[Round 2: Pat Stay]

This is a death match, no submission, Forrest Griffin versus Otis Nixon

Ice, blast a motherfucker for a bucket of boneless chicken - spiced
For that suicide sauce he’d go to prison - for life
When waitresses bring him teriyaki, he kills them - nice

He that old man in the hood who always got a fuckin story to tell
Boring as hell, yeah he used to drink 40’s in jail
I’m like an animal, I was actually born with a tail
You think you got it bad, my beds are wooden board with nails

He says him and all the murderers have a mutual respect in jail
They used to play musical electric chairs
But to cross the border you can’t have a scratch on your record
So if all your stories are true, I gotta ask you a question

If you’s a felon, I like to know how you got yourself here
Oh you must have jumped in one of your big-ass guns and just fucking shot yourself here
I mean it’s just weird, he gets charged with a felon but his record is crystal clear
It’s like he slipped and dropped in quicksand, he fell and he (felony) disappear

Ice is the biggest snitch in the game, if he gets caught the whole block gets arrested
Not even stressin, ? have the charges against him drop in a second
This man got caught with possession, assault with a weapon
Shot a detective, Officer Jenkins
Stomped him to death, chopped off his head, left his body in segments
Walked up in court, calm and collected, said “I taught him a lesson”
The judge asked if he at least brought a defendant
He said, “No, absolutely not Honor, I meant it”
In fact he didn’t call him honor, he called him a faggot
Judge caught him in bed with his wife and asked him if he wanted some breakfast
They played WWF music in court when he walks in the entrance
He bounces like The Rock when he steps in and does a Tatanka impression

You ever turn your back on me homie, I’ll be knockin you senseless
That’d be normal, he has been in prison, he’s just hoppin in position

When you say I smoke the rock, yeah I do know what that’s like
I’ll cremate your body and put your ashes on my crack pipe


[Round 3: Head I.C.E.]

You too soft to talk street shit but wanna be hard
Sniff coke, crack jokes, and yell “I wanna be loved”
Darkside, mark wide, knowin that you care bein soft, the heart kind
You can hear cap guns bust and you horse-fly
So beef if Pat’s in one then more dies

Bad enough, he ain’t trigger bangin
So if you ridin and you dyin for all the shit he sayin
Square-feet you dead meat in the situation
I’m that bold, I’ll Mac Moller that shit you paintin

Punk pussy, I should’ve spit woody
Tell your bitch I said fuck her, eat a dick with it
And she cut like a man, you probably arm wrestle
May the best man win, you twos a odd couple
Hope you die with your hand on her dick
And she die with her hand on your tits
That’s typa odd couple

Fuck boy, your butt moist
You wave your arm in the ear (air) at the sound of truck noise
You’ll get chased in my hood, I put money on it
Just for steppin in them Esco jeans with your spandex shirt like let’s go eat
And some open toast slippers and them two earrings

I’m bonafide Pat nigga, I’m more than ride
Bitch I park and walk to a homicide, G’d up
Them weed blunts gon have nothin left but your tims, tree stomps

See now I got the groove on ‘em, three-piece type of swag with the shoes on ‘em
Mike Jack in his past, Montana for the cash, JC type of dance how I move on ‘em

Broke, but my house rich
So I put on the gun before a outfit
Still listenin to Pun and some of Styles (Styles P) shit
Before I run in the crib, no cat and mouse shit

Now pardon my back, strut my shoulders
Somebody tell the boss this what I does to dojas
Pound a weed, he on the road to closure
And I’m ‘bout to fuck a bitch out of Nova Scotia

I put the head of my dick inside your Kool-Aid
Cuz you was pussy before your crew came

[Round 3: Pat Stay]

Your girl looks like Giant Gonzales
Look at the size of his nostrils
I picture gettin sucked up there like the fucking Magic School Bus
And gettin in this big fight with his tonsils

Ain’t no bitch makin you home fries dog, you’d be lucky to get fries from McDonalds, you old trout
You know he’s old as shit, he did that moonwalk, you could see his ass wobble

See you on some Atari shit, my game’s too advanced for y’all
I banged his ex’s box (X-Box) now she can’t keep her panties on
Her friend wanted PS too (PS2), so I slammed the broad
I got that smooth game to control her (controller), and a log (analogue)

Show her that the man’s the boss, hand across her face
Like “um excuse me, is my sandwich lost”
Yeah yeah, your mom died, whatever bitch the game is on
Make her open my beer with her teeth till she breaks her jaws

But wait, I love her home fries, I love her-love her home fries
Look at him, starving as shit, stomach grumbling the whole time
I wanna know why, I wanna-wanna know why
The hell you keep givin me these motherfucking old guys

Boss status, cause static that be cutting up your phone line
You’re looking for a problem then you struck a fucking gold mine
Roll by slow, in a bucket got a four-five
Clip to your neck like you buckin up a bow tie

Oh you mad ‘cause a white boy stylin on you
Take a swing on me man, I’ll fucking power bomb you
Mess with me, you’d be the next Jimmy
Wet willy you so hard I have a bent pinky

A fucking robot joints oil and I don’t smoke pot
Bullets flyin out of my chest bigger than cold shots
Load cocked aim, dome shot bam, brain goes pop
If your watch’s frozen you’ll get cold clocked

Oh, dog, I’m a damn beast, Zangief, slam me
I’ll even fight you hands free, and feet
Eyes closed with a blindfold so I can’t see
I’m from the motherfucking dark side, a wolf don’t scare me

Sucka free, your punches weak like Math Hoffa
So act proper and get slumped like bad posture
Spinal fracture, I’m your chiropractor, back doctor
Straighten you out, laid on the ground like an Ab Rocker
White boy and I strike like a black mamba
Half-monster, Sasquatch, stomp ya
So go ahead, say you click that trigga
You’s a lyin-ass, snitch-ass, bitch-ass… (nigga) TIME!

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