Caustic vs Bigg K

ROUND 1[CAUSTIC] To keep it real with y’all, I could beat Bigg K in just one verse So I’ll be on a roll after I tear him to shreds; I’m fucking Lush One’s shirt They said don’t sleep on your opponent. That fool K legit He’s got haymakers and bars; man that dude say some shit Y’all hear him in the preview talking greazy? Like he just gonna soufflé the kid Man I haven’t heard you that hyped about a trailer since you got a new place to live But his fans talk about him like he the best kept secret Like it’s blasphemous; he’s somebody that I could never compete with He’s top five, next to… Cyborg, Eminem and Redneck Jesus; Bigg K’s such a fucking thug Even his name is on some extra G shit But honestly bro, I hate how simple you write It’s just a bunch of metaphors, similes and likes Man, motherfucking cats like you get the fuckin idiots hype But you an innocent type. We live a different life I mean your delivery’s tight But dog, you are Deliverance white I mean, ten years ago you wasn’t getting down with the bitches Looks like you used to paint your face And get down with the sickness He said he’s got Walmart lines Well that would explained this discounted image But you can’t fuck with my brand: this Target ‘ll put Bigg K out of business You are the worst kind of white That’s why your lines are not good This shit’s like South Park: no one understands when Kenny tries to talk hood Two years ago, you used to call us all nerds But I guess he rock with us now But if he says a line that don’t get reaction, then it’s something wrong with the crowd You like to talk while people rapping Oh my god, you’re a clown I’ll put a pistol in his mouth Let’s see him talk through my rounds Bitch, I’ll be stalking your house while you sleeping all alone Feel the steel against your dome While you’re reaching for the phone He said I got a geek squad But ain’t no trouble(-)shooting people in your home You don’t know my history, dog, I’m incognito with the chrome (He doesn’t even fucking get it, that’s how fucking stupid he is) He thinks he’s Nino with the blow So he deserves what he’s getting Shit, you wasn’t locked down for that long, dog I heard you was snitching Oh look at him shaking his head Like you wasn’t a fucking nerd up in prison I bet you get checked on sight(site) like terms and conditions Dog, people talk like you’re the best But you are honestly the worst Why don’t you go spit some more Digimon bars And then call us all nerds? So keep this shit rap, and do not talk through my verse Before I have to make a split decision about which chin I’m gonna fuckin sock you in first [BIGG K] Hey yo Caustic. Your nose look like a guitar pick Nah, it look like your pops is half swordfish My shit rip through bricks and make floor rip This a match you ain’t fit for; you should forfeit Four-four bulldog or the four-fifth Money’ll get a magazine: that’s the Forbes list You dead. I’m picking up a box: that’s a forklift You softer than Norbes fist; I’m strong as a horse kick You rely on personals and disrespect ‘Cause if you was to just spit, we’ll feel a disconnect I rap. You a comedian. Hit your set You just a funny, low-life piece of shit, at best You gon need Arcane to come and write your verse Remember when Soul duffed you? I’ll do you twice as worse Rip your throat open; put this knife to work The doc’s gon have to button around your neck like life alert Big Berettas. The kickbacks ain’t get-togethers Twin M-9’s, look like you trying to knit a sweater If he bugging, I get to spraying: that’s the citronella And one pump can split a pumpkin like Cinderella It’s gray hairs in your beard; you should get some gel-a You rocking the Salt-N-Pepa like Spinderella Bang. While you rip the leaf off a ciga-rella You’ll catch a bullet in the teeth like Penn and Teller So say my gun bars is fake. Question my thug affiliation I went to prison for armed robbery and assault with a firearm That’s public information But I’m ‘posed to believe he evil and got a gun in the briefcase ‘cause he scream when he rapping and put on the mean face? Look man, you walked in a loser. I get the win on arrival Jesus Christ, K the god, I go across your shit with a bible You gon realize you ain’t fit for survival Once you get the chance to spit with your idol And this is a big ass G check like Illmac winning the title Now open with a rebuttal. Bring some clown to the vibe Dickride the Bay Area to keep the crowd on your side But y’all put up a Warhol against a fucking cornball You had the whole time I was rapping to think of four bars ROUND 2[CAUSTIC] It’s exactly what I expected: bunch of death threats that didn’t mean a thing at all I guess the story goes, if you’ve seen one Bigg K verse, then I guess you’ve seen ‘em all I’ll make a deal with all of y’all If he can go the next round without saying the word “like”, I will retire from rap He thinks he’s Dr. fucking Dre, it’s all “like” this and “like” that But you didn’t sound like that in ’09 Shit you didn’t rhyme like that Not when you was begging me for battles Back in GrindTimeChat Shit, I know this guy like that. Me and dude got a history I opened doors for this bitch, I guess you could call it chivalry I’m trash? Bitch, you trash. You gotta be kidding me Whoever dropped you off at the event Should’ve got a ticket for littering All he talk about is video games and cartoons, and y’all swear like his bars are the hardest But it’s honestly kinda what I expected from someone I legit thought was retarded And I swear to fucking god If this fat piece of shit keeps calling me garbage I’ll put sweepers on his helmet like he’s Marvin the Martian I said fuck his size, I’m this high, I’ll kill his style with two bars Said even we inside, let’s fist fight til your left eye is f.u.b.a.r Oh now your lips dry, can’t spit rhymes, get this guy a cue card See you can’t do what I do But I’m pretty sure I’m better at your style than you are So what you wanna do, dog? This your funeral, K You’re a big fat nervous nail-biting motherfucker How them cuticles taste? Dog, y’all really think K’s a gangster with a tool in his waist But I’m a real estate agent: you make a move And I’ll put you in your place I keep my cash in a shoebox. No revenue’s in the banks I don’t care if money gets locked up, then this dude isn’t safe You a counterfeit A little light behind him will prove that he’s fake And y’all can count on me to keep it one hundred Until I’m blue in the face Yo he does a little thing every time that I rhyme I dunno if I’m battling somebody or fucking fighting a fucking mime Yeah, I’ma keep it one hundred with y’all Anybody this fucking big should not be a coward Dog, I don’t know if I’m trying to battle rap somebody or fucking argue with the bouncer Dog, he claims to be a boss that spits fire, but his punches don’t got any power So it makes a lot of sense that you and Illmac looked like Mario versus Bowser Honestly, I fell asleep through half of your rounds I mean if you keep stepping up, I’ma keep backing him down But I’m back now, the man they’ve been asking about I say fuck Illmaculate, I should be the champion now Shut the fuck up. As if you had any doubt Dog, if he the man of the house, then I’m grabbing his spouse Put a gag in her mouth and fucking dragging her out I’ll yoke that bitch up while her panties are down And slide a dick in her ass while I’m tapping her out See I’m the dude that live the shit that you be rapping about See I don’t normally rap but I had to make an example out of the clown Look at him, nervous. You can see the sweat damping his brow Somebody pass him a towel Like Th3 Saga when he’s logging onto his Brazzers account It’s in god’s hands now, bitch, what them passwords about? [BIGG K] When we first met, he said, “Fam, you nice, K.” And I appreciate that, you fake ass Andrew Dice Clay Look, straight to the money once I land: two-night stay I'll pop you cold square in the mouth like a brand new ice tray Razor to your face, get severed in cold cuts You soft. Peanut butter and jelly with no crust A two-piece, then you ‘sleep. I can tell he’a fold up Do something. I will smack the gel out your bowl cut I grind the whole winter, through the cold and fleece; I’m blowing sticky like a hippie, holding the piece You think you fast as lightning, toe to toe with a beast Just ‘cause you got a haircut like Travolta in Grease What you know about grinding and ducking raids when the feds sweep? You blow that big ass nose with a bed sheet They threw your ass in a shark tank; you dead meat You’ll be your homies’ chest piece by the next week I talk it ‘cause I live it; you don’t live it to talk it Hit the compartment, click it, then I click it and spark it Two eights, roommates: they’ll split your apartment Enter the gauntlet. This the strongest shit on the market This idiot Caustic lost it. He ain’t no type thug Get a bright idea, I will break your light bulb Make this Italian speak Spanish before I take your life, blood ‘cause you gon give this floor a kiss, in Beso Nightclub Skip the babbling. Before rap, I was in the Radisson O.T. with my O.G., really trafficking Breaking down, bagging up, clipping, packaging And wasn’t stepping up in your spot ‘less I get the ratchet in So stick to battling. I hit harder than fifty javelins I took Caustic in the Bay ‘cause I’m into traveling You need the hometown support; I ain’t really mad at him I bring that fire shit to your porch: Billy Madison ROUND 3[CAUSTIC] I am sick and fucking tired of them saying Bigg K talks that real shit So I think it’s high time I pulled your card, you giant fucking Garbage Pail Kid Y’all heard him in the trailer hating. Saying that my angles is a crutch But you’re basically saying that you’re not creative enough To find a specific way to say that I suck I mean, you could say the same, but you playing gangster too much So here’s a fucking angle for you, K, you tell me if I’m making it up So me and you got cool around when you lost -- and I lost -- So please believe that I meant that shit when I called us homies It’s hard me to stand up here and even call him phony But what the sad part is is that my own boys really do not know me I lost my dad when I was five. I lost my brother when I was eight I lost a couple homies this year, I just had to shoulder the weight I don’t even blink no more, dog, this shit happens every day But y’all keep trying to make this battle rap shit real Man, this battle rap shit is my escape Man, it’s because all you fucking battle cats are fake Acting like you don’t got an emotional side Honestly dog I think about my dead homies every morning the second I open my eyes So if I ever fucking push you away or act different then don’t be surprised; I do it for your own good, K, ‘cause everybody close to me dies I remember back in the day when I didn’t have any rights In and out of group homes and jail for over half of my life Before I was taking this battle rap shit to new heights I was taking baby steps because my shackles was too tight So nowadays everybody acts like it’s cool to be a criminal with wealth But every time you rap I just hear a bunch of bars about you snitching on yourself Dog, a lot of people know me from outside of this shit Including you, K. And you know I don’t like to glorify the type of lifestyle that I live I mean I never did this shit to be cool. I was just trying to provide for my kid ‘cause if he needed it I would honestly give him the lung straight from inside of my ribs But this guy. This guy. Man this guy isn’t it You serve dime bags and shit. You don’t understand breaking pies into zips And trying to add just the right amount of cut to maximize what you get Dog, you don’t know that feeling when the five-o pulls up alongside of your whip And he’s giving you the eye because you’re higher than shit Hiding your sweat ‘cause you’re three deep in the deep East And you got a trunk with a disconnected Alpine full of bricks And you think your little fucking rap lines gonna hit? There’s nothing you can say to me I will let you walk a mile in my shoes just so you’re a mile a-fuckin-way from me So for those that don’t know me, this some shit you’ve never heard before I keep that part of my life separate because I prefer to work alone You try to dig your little dirt but I am cleaner than a germaphobe And you about to get so much work I should’ve hit you from my burner phone I’ve met all my heroes. And they all say I’m the dude You just write a bunch of shit you saw in movies and you fake like it’s true I didn’t bring you all the way to San Jose just so I could play-fight with you This ain’t no viral pity party like fuckin Daylyt and Oops So I bet you sound real cool to them little kids that never struggled But I just wanted to reminded you what you sound like To those of us that really hustle [BIGG K] Daniel take your pick: revolver or a slice I got the hammer and the pick, like I’m carving out of ice See I could bar you to death, but that’ll hardly be a fight So I’ma use this third round to talk about your life You brought me to your house. Say that isn’t facts You got a grown man roommate. Just two dudes, kicking back That don’t mean they licking sacks, that ain’t what I’m getting at But they got a fucking kitty cat. Dog, what type of shit is that? But I guess when you’re Mr. Disrespect, that’s how you do things Walk around Oakland with a cat on a shoestring Got the nerve to talk crazy and be kicking that wild shit Knowing that your living room smell like Meow Mix You kiss that cat in the mouth, and put it in your purse Before you allowed to eat, you gotta make his dinner first You on Twitter popping off like you gon get at Surf You feeling Evil ‘cause you pen a verse stroking Mr. Bigglesworth I will Petey Pablo that little shit, it stinks Skin it alive and sew a fucking midget mink You in the house overflowing your kitchen sink Struggling trying to give a bath to Mister Jinx How you a stray pet back tickler but yet he raps sinister? You tried to trace a day in my steps, you’d snap fibulae Fuck these racist fans that say we rap similar; I bark with the big dogs. You a cat whisperer It pisses in your bed. Made you buy an extra sheet It purrs on your chest while you cry yourself to sleep You’s a motherfucking girl. You done made your choice And you battle ‘cause it’s the only time you get to raise your voice So stop lying like you mean. You fronting, that isn’t facts Ain’t hustling in the rap or running in with a strap Next time y’all hear Caustic thugging up in his raps Just picture him and his roommate on the couch, cuddled up with a cat