[Round 1: Th3 Saga]
First and foremost, praise God
Praise God
So, this what RBE look like, huh?
Okay, I'm diggin' the style
Bunch of killers in a calm aesthetic wit' a minimal crowd
Learned to cross the bridge that was burnin' wit' no permission allowed, like Lebron left the league that matter so every jab step is pivotal now
I came to get rid of this pitiful clown
One, two
Get hit in intervals now
Body shots
He in critical now wit' a combination to oppose the ribs like General Tsao
Somebody get him a towel before his blood spill in the crowd
Lеt him start snitchin' wit' triggers around
I click it and baow
If this rat tell then prints on thе sweeper
Look like I visit McDowell's
I'll show him a difference in style
If I follow Avo, get cooked evenly when the camera's spinnin' around
You facin' a man of God wit' a cynical smile
Killin' him foul
I got paid to make an example outta Ill
Well, it's a clinical trial
This how it's finna go down
Ya body laid out stiff when I put some damage on ya
If I throw you this bows, this square a goner
Talkin' Yung lyin' in pain
I'm sorry I lied to you, Martin
I just didn't wanna go to Arizona
They ain't make it clear to warn ya?
While you was cocaine-tweakin', nose stay leakin', I was puttin' points on the board for the whole dang season
Now, Lebron bodyin' Ice Pack
Look like a post-game treatment
Your flow game decent but I ain't takin' anything from a death threat said from you
The last time I seen a horseman get ill and die was Red Dead Redemption 2
We project less respect from you but I'm here to fulfill a plan
Though this was accepted wit' malice, I'm Ron Artest at the Palace
You know, still a fan
Verb, Hollow
One of y'all gon' have to avenge him after I kill ya man
You better hope your squad rebuttal or develop carpal tunnel and give Ill a hand, but this joint hurts
So many styles to attack, I feel schizo fightin' 'em
The impact look like Kimbo strikin' 'em
Uppercut
Knot Ill next
Look like a lymph node risin' in
If I get pissed, though, let a fist go
It's lit, bro
Ya funeral home gonna have to get yo' size again
I don't care if I grew battlin' and watchin' you
It's gon' be more when they have to get yo' size again
Understand a man of God ready to get him knot next like a lymph node risin' in
Boy, it's get scary, Ill
Buried still
Funeral homes
Pallbearers become pathogens when they carry Ill
It's gon' get very real
I shoulda been left alone but since I'm usin' a crackhead to elevate, you a steppin' stone
Go 'head and mention NOME
When you die, I'm usin' Yung blood to better my looks
This is adrenochrome, so go ahead with them God angles
Try me for a homi
Round one
I just caught another body for the body
[Round 1: Yung Ill]
I'm back to droppin' shit and wilin', dog
Still, Rajaković is how I ball
Do the opposite of smile wit' y'all
You wouldn't pop a zit or Tylenol
My block legit
The guys involved known to hop in whips and slide from laws
Keep they posture stiff
Don't side wit' frauds and discuss mobster shit over private calls
Shots from clips go upside his jaw
Leave a pasta dish there upside the wall
Silent bitch
Unviolent broad
Die over politics
Problem solved
Switchblade flick quick
Glide and saw
Poor baby
This is a toddler in a tiger's claw
Naw, moreso a bogus match
Call of Duty
Kill confirmed
I get soldier stats
Came tweakin', got left leakin', layin' cold and flat full of bullet holes wit' ya soul detatched and I be so relaxed
You ain't gangsta
You just pose and act
You 'bout as dangerous as Doja Cat
I let my nuts hang boldly like golds and plaques
I am upfront when it's time to bust
I'm right where Rosa sat, so turn around when you see my circle
We the colder set
I take ya ho and crack
You take the ho to Saks wit' BOLOs of rats
When the ship sinkin', she on my wood, pushin' you in the ocean like Rose did Jack
ARP, who is this nigga?
Somebody get a hold of Smack
He think every negro created equal
Who in the fuck told him that?
I will Jim Crow this bimbo
No trial
Just give bro the max
Every slave I ever caught got his legs hacked off and then we sold 'em back
My first purchase was a old LeMat with the rusty air holes and the shoulder strap
Did it have a body on it?
I don't know for fact
I still gave bro a rack 'cause it had no serial and Os attached
Now, I'm back, standin' wit' a stick
Take a stab at hockey
Sit down and watch me cook
This high-class hibachi
For that spinach, green, cabbage, broccoli, I will grab a choppy and bust a move in a mask fast as a Jabbawockee
Act blind, deaf, and dumb
It get tense when I harass his posse, then we see these bitches got more sense than Bath and Body
It's Ill, the clumsy pallbearer
The casket-dropper can blast a chopper or rather take it out back and get it crackin' like crab and lobsters
This faggot Saga swing like Sheneneh
Scrap jabbin' proper
A torso tap, his abs'll lock up fast than four and a half gettin' rocked up
I said, hold on
Fast as four and a half gettin'—
Nigga, you thought I was 'bout to choke?
That is not true
I didn't show up wit' one round
I can jack off, nigga
I am not you
They already know what I would do to this nigga
First round
Who is this nigga?
[Round 2: Th3 Saga]
Overused church white angles like I ain't show for ten years pictures of an exact Christ
He gon' use the Roman Catholicism angle for those whole lack sight
I serve a brown-skinned Yeshua from Africa
If you'd do ya research, you'd get ya facts right, but those who are young-minded get caught slippin', not being aware he's really black, Ice
Boy, that's certainly clout, but you gon' talk about some things with a flurried amount, like, "Did y'all know it was a melanated king that put it up in the church but they replaced him wit' a white man to bury the doubt?"
That's not the only controlled white substance you need to be worried about, you crackhead
Vers' Bigg K, you brought up the church, mentionin' slavery and how we lost our image to weaponized new styles, but if that's the case, the white is the main reason we barely recognize you now and it appears true
Drastic weight loss, dialated pupils is somethin' that we had to cheer through, but when you almost lost your teeth in that round wit' Bigg K, it brought a clear view
We need to be mindful of the people we give an ear to
That's a drastic need, so anybody tryna come up from Fly Fam, lettin' a ratchet squeeze, we jabbin' knees at rapid speed
We can't get to you, I'm grabbin' the closest thing to Ice Pack like a bag of peas
Make this bastard bleed
Do you devastated
You gon' soar to new heights after you get yoked up and get death awaited, 'cause once you go out on a limb wit' Ice Pack, you keep it elavated
I will do you hella flagrant
You know who you dealin' wit'?
Catch a size twelve to the face
Make sure the kill legit
Your grill'll split
Puttin' feet on Ill
I'm tryna heal the sick
You know how real it get?
So keep actin' like you ain't had that comin' 'til it's a crackhead down the aisle of a church
Diary of a Mad Black Woman
I'm showin' no forgiveness
I'm standin' front door to a nigga with no presence like a Jehovah's Witness
You get rocked and TKO-ed off a smackdown
Sound like I own the business
If I hit ya nose, it broke the bridges
Bring the pain on Ill
[?]
Wave on Ill
I got motion sickness
You know the business
We can't stand y'all pace
You battled Bigg K
They put Yung in front of a dog
It became a sandlock chase
How you gon' demand my place?
Wit' twelve-year-old accolades, you need to stop that frontin'
Tellin' us we need to rush our styles but couldn't even bomb on Tsu, Yung, to push the god damn button
That's why ya fame escapes you
You had a rookie JC, Rich Dolarz
That's why these lames'll praise you
You got smoked by Rex, Shine, Lyt, even Brizz
We had to change the angle
You became the Flu Game to the greats that flamed you because we all thought the GOAT was Ill outta nowhere 'til we realized it was the plates they gave you
I came to erase this fable
That's what I do best
Brizz smoked you
Bigg K fried you next
Every six months you return, they provide new checks
We would never be screamin', "Welcome back" if these fans remembered why you left, so go ahead with them God angles
Try me for a homi and tell Clips to suit up
It's still a body for the body
[Verse 2: Yung Ill]
T. D. Jakes unemployed, outta work, and needed bad
Well, you deserve pennies from ARP
I hope G ain't disperse a heap of cash
Do you go to church or even ask?
Do you know the verse they read in Mass?
We are debutin' ya death day, Saga
The first shall be the last
Let's crash
Security, how this man get in here?
Lookin' like he picked a lock or snuck in wit' a fan through the rear
In this exhibit, we pimp his ride 'til he panic in fear
Install these beats, get his shit wired, but this won't amp his career
Another clown caught in my claw
I'll close the clamps on this queer
Hit the clutch then the stick get touched
I'll advance it a gear
No crowd to channel the cheer
Big bangers brandish appear, then this big K goin' on a run but it ain't for champ of the year
I envelope and address shit
I get stamps from my peers
I watched all ya battles on mute wit' both my hands to my ears, so be clear
If it gets sporadic, won't pivot backwards
Just lift a ratchet
Snatch ya creeds
Hittin'
Split ya cabbage
Mm
This dish is lavish
I'm a vicious savage that's with the static
Could say, forget this faggot and click-and-clack it
Word on the street, I get in jewels and drop gems on cam
That's diplomatic
Ayy, Saga, you get this status?
You do shit lowkey like whip a Stratus
Cop a G-Shock
Cop ya bitch the Patek 'cause feds take flicks and they get ecstatic, family man
I let moms, pops, bros, and sisters have it
I'm from a different cloth
They no longer crochet soul or stitch this fabric, bitch nigga
That shit you kick too fabric
These are true kung fu/jiu jitsu tactics
You had a better chance at a walking handstand juggling bricks through traffic
There is a rumor going 'round
Tell me, is it true, my friend?
They say you use Vaseline and lotion in ways you're not supposed to use them in
See, you a fake Christian and it's pitiful, too
Real Christians painted Jesus black to hide the fact we the original Jews
Peek-a-boo
He'll hear a click or two then ya clique is through
Now, doc's sayin' Saga's too Ill
Ill did a switcharoo
This the zoo?
I act a ape, get pissed, and throw piss and poop
I'm talkin' bad behind his back 'cause that's what Christians do
See how my language and literature can paint a good picture of some gangstas and killers hush with bangers and triggers tucked?
This lame ain't a lick of tough
Put his brains on his pick-up truck
You teamed up with Four Horsemen
Why these strangers keep cliquin' up?
Fly Fam
[Round 3: Th3 Saga]
I spent a quarter of my life bein' a doctor's patient when times was flagrant
Hospital beds
Nurses checkin' to see if I'm aware on the scene but it's not product placement
This battle literally came full circle though our timelines adjacent, and given my health history, ya name alone is worth a conversation
Let's talk bein' young, Ill
Conditions plaguin' ya mother when she was expectin' you
Two doctors suggested bringin' the death to you
Sayin' she should abort me 'cause I'm supposed to be born a vegetable
Let's talk bein' young, Ill
Anxiety since I was a child
Heart problems run in my family
Left some detached
I ain't even got the cardio to run from that, so my chest problems speak more volumes than a Hustle match
Let's talk bein' young, Ill
Arthritic bones developed in both my hips
Made it hella harder to walk when the pressure came
Five middle schools on each side givin' me hella pain
Tryna convince the world that I'm fine until the weather changed
Let's talk bein' young, Ill
Feet surgery at twelve
The procedure to adjust my sole wasn't easy, son
I couldn't stand flat or even run, so while you was claimin' the St. Louis arch, I really needed one
Let's talk bein' young, Ill
I'm a walkin' embodiment of His truth indeed, so you thought I'd see Yung at the door and just flop at him?
I ain't Scuba Steve
My walk with God predestined this moment but only a few conceive 'cause after every miracle, God would yell the question, "Do you believe?"
Beyond lifted
I'm a walkin' embodiment of what God shifted
Mind twisted
You chose the name Yung Ill
I lived it
Lebron different
Shoulda kept my name out ya mouth and just say nada
Now, it's your death day proper 'cause you all gotta deal with the rappin' sensei Sa—
I paid dues
Nights I struggled with physical therapy, I seen faith moved
I bring the raves through
Keep hittin' your face 'til it breaks smooth
I'll let this lame choose when I bring your fade soon
It coulda been an enclosed space or an LA roof when I shake rooms
I coulda even caught Yung Ill on stage, too, like St. Jude's, so just know, you gon' need a lot more to beat me than just flowin' nice
You can lose your heart in the ring if you live that Owen life
You can't stop me
Only the Spirit can move me like a poltergeist
Killed you in three rounds
I'm just prayin' that yo' soul is right
[Round 3: Yung Ill]
Saga's sweaty hands wouldn't let a Desi blam
He barely dance and scraps spaghetti strands from the deli stand
I can tell he playin'
[?] alien exit Chevy vans already sprayin'
I don't even follow Ashanti, I'm such a Nelly fan
Lunatic
Catch a crucifix
Get dubbed and die
You would do some stupid shit like get matchin' tattoos wit' other guys
"You can't copy respect" sketched next to a butterfly in peppermint pink ink on your inner and upper thigh
Why would they throw Saga in the devil dungeon?
Now, the rebel dumpin'
Silencers
Pss, pss
Sound like I'm tryna tell him somethin'
I call a blitz then it's interceptions and hella fumblin'
Red flags on the play
Meds drag him away
I'm tellin' youngin
Plug talk
I rap with the 'migos
They never mumblin'
They don't micromanage niggas they front
We just let 'em function
I let the trap in the field with my rap
It was hella humblin'
Dropped some battle tiers choppin', slicin', and scalin' onions
You ain't on my level, munchkin
Light bald
He get it now
They call it vintage Ill when I do what I do 'cause it been my style
Get technical
Catch extra shots
My pen been foul
Adolescent in disguise
I will chastise your inner child
Now, don't get this mark another mic
I'm street-smart, gutter, trife
I was born
You was born with a silver fork
You 'bout sharp as a butter knife
I'm tryna see what's the hype
This blow-pop-suck-it life
My flow pure dope
You can up the price and cut it twice
Yikes
I'm gon' leave a tragic scene
This pastor green
Ran in the [?] gone off half a bean like insence and sippin' gasoline
I mean, Saga, you cannot beat me
I am not your meat
Another one of Smack flunkies callin' me a crack junkie
That is not unique
You have seventy-one battles in the app
They are trapped
They are not released
They are obsolete
That is Beasley tellin' you to sit your bitch ass down and Chico tellin' you not to speak
Y'all already know what I would do to this nigga
Who is this nigga?
Fly Fam
