Chef Trez vs. Prep

[Round 1: Prep]
I showed up for Ascension when it was over...there’s no excusin’ it
Before that, it was only brung up in a few mentions
Then it went to Facebook, had bloggers YouTubin’ it
I was late puttin’ Dolarz (dollars) down, but that’s the reason it grew interest
Predictions sayin’ tonight I’m gettin’ bodied
So when I saw you get a thousand votes (volts) on a poll, it didn’t shock me
I'll get the shotty
If it didn't kill him, it'll paralyze ya
Small straight before the big mill' (meal): this the appetizer
BLAOW! A Homi wit' the strap on like Sara Kana!
Weapon fire, twin .30s, get did dirty
Old ratchet, lickin' at your door like Miss Pearly
Blade out - chop! chop! - I'm in a big hurry
I'll get mad and they (matinee) show him the clips early
First he got kicked off SMACK, wasn't allowed, bruh
Fresh outta rehab, you couldn't be around us (dust)
Then you let one of them Goonies fuck your style up
We were supposed to see Chef cookin' Ryd' (cook in ride) like the halal truck!
Enough's enough
Wit' 100 drums and the wild machines
Bump your gums, we could knuckle up and put down the things
Duck his punch, then the uppercut, you hit the ground
I mean, damn! I thought Chef would've known to keep his counters clean!
Bunch of things that I don't really condone
This can (skin) get ugly: take a different tone
You been runnin' from the ring, so the issue was blown
Now that we on the mat, Trez (mattress) gon' remember this body like memory foam
I'm liftin' the chrome, the mag' touch ya
Break up your cash structure
Tom sendin' Chef from long-range: Splash Brother
That trunk? I'll, have him inside without questionin'
Whoever you're with (width) gettin' cut: I'm takin' measurements
Have a couple kissin' (kiss in) the frame like wedding pics
Two barrels on the gauge wit' the leather grip
I'm workin' through this double like I picked up an extra shift!
One try'll (trial) get him the bucks: you won a settlement!
You flexin' wit' it, but you ain't blastin' your weaponry
I send a message wit' mine (mind): that was telepathy
BLAOW! Throw your flag in the air: it's a penalty
This mill' (meal) only for Blood like a family recipe!
You've been beggin' for Chess...they still ain't give that plate to you
Norbes, it's your birthday...
Why didn't you let Chef cook a Cake for you!?
I'll wait for you, hog-tie ya
Steel got the metal: they all coppers
Ball up a fist, I'm sharp wit' defense (the fence) like barbed wire
Arms by us, clips shaped like small commas
Lettin' them sticks burn on San' (sand): we threw a bonfire!
You liar! Is it necessary?
Clean...but the Heckler dirty
Through his hat...through his shirt...through his jeans (genes): it's hereditary!
I never worry
This ain't mine, but I'm wearin' it
Carryin' someone else baby, that's what sir'll get (surrogate)
Y'all heard of him, but I got joy for my son
Got some advice for you, and you can ignore it if you want
Shorten your setups, throw a little story in the front
Doing that'll make your bars hit harder from the jump
Y'all remember when P found the niggas who jumped Jody?
He was stumblin' wit' the 40, lookin' drunk
He said, "It's between the nose or the mouth, preferably the nose."
I'm just showin' Baby Boy how to punch!

[Round 1: Chef Trez]
You dress like a fuckin' bitch, bro
I'mma leave you all dead
Off rip, nigga, I buck on pussy niggas like...I mean, ya all scared
Nigga, big chop, clip longer than tall lead
Nigga said somethin' 'bout Miss Pearl, right?
You're like her son Damon: watch a faggot get a BaldHead (bald head)!
I say, Brandon Chambers
At this point, you supposed to be top-tier wit' hella wreck
You supposed to be where Top, Brizz, Chess, and Ave at
But they took extra steps, movin' ahead
You was losin' your edge, you had hella deaths
Talkin' 'bout you ain't tryna go back to where Rich Dolarz at...
Bitch, you never left!
Nigga was tryna make a name, but was too fake so they can't relate
I was making plays wit' two K's to spray
MACs (Max) and my full, 24 in both: I carry 'em day-to-day
Ain't you dead!? How the fuck you come back, nigga!?
I think it's safe to say
As far as the new wave of battlers dyin' against vets, Prep, you paved the way
After this, they won't brand you
Landin' on a question mark in Monopoly
Pullin' your card, I finally got the Chance to
30 hangin' out, make it look like the long handle
Smack him across the bridge of the nose
(*sniff*) So he smell the magazine: it's a cologne sample!
Why y'all have to get him hype?
That's just gon' get him life
In the dirt, nice casket closed, seal it tight
Black gun, wit' the silver back (silverback): it's gorilla-like
But it get bad for Prep when it kick back: it's the Chilla type!
But you got choppers aimed?
Bitch, where? Stop the games
If I reach in, ain't no tellin' what's comin' out: it's pocket change
I'm on the block wit' gang, wit' Glocks to bang
They're wit' lots of pain
I run up on niggas armed wit' hammers
You run up on niggas wit' long b-
We not the same!
You out here wit' wack writtens!
Not livin' what you rappin', you catfishin'
While I'm really pack-flippin', MAC-liftin'
And I supply ring card girls: I SMACK bitches!
You think you crazy? Well...today we tell
The Chef got rank, you a lower tier (tear): that's a ACL
Shots him, they rush to his attention like the baby fell
I even got a tip (T.I.P) for NuNu (New New) in Georgia
Let's make a Part 2 for ATL!
I'm exposing yo' rep'
This gon' be a drift, I could take a trip to Tokyo next
I'm loadin' mo' TECs
All you see is a kick, then a body flip like a rodeo set
Put a scope to yo' chest
This a battle I been wanted: I'm focused on Prep!
Askin' the Chef, "Can I handle Prep?"
But y'all know that we known for that
I battled some of the best in the game to the lowest cats
I R.I.P. (rip) from the top to the bottom in this ring like a Hogan match!
You have to run into danger
Well, this like Black Ops 2
I walk the field wit' a gun for a stranger
But like the party games...I'mma put one into Chamber
Now that this nigga back, his presence is wild tough, but ain't 'bout much
Bitch, I'll drive by your spot 10 times in one day for the foul stuff
Get you, your kids, and your spouse touched
So many shots goin' through the walls...bullets the only thing keeping your HOUSE UP!

[Round 2: Prep]
Yo, you went from Writer's Bloque to Cave Gang
Then Spit Dat Heat to Bullpen and was hypin'
Turned Blood in your 20s
Nigga, you went from fades to dreads, goin' through an identity crisis
And Milltown put you on, that was big bro
Your loyalty? Zero
I should line up the nose for how you did Bloe (blow)
I made this rebuttal shit hot
Respect my turf
Chef wouldn't see plates if they didn't have Prep cook first!
What's worse, is the moves you make
I've been watchin' 'em
You was losin' stock and then John John made him hot again
Now when they try to book him for matches, you overchargin' them
Makes sense...Mr. "3 of Them Thangs" forgot the pen (PIN)
The problem is you ain't even bother wit' that
Loyalty Over Money
You should get a Hollow for that!
You ridin' with SMACK? Yeah, bet
That's your mans today
Until King of the Dot throws some bands your way
You said you fallin' back 'cause of health issues, right?
Okay, I'll elaborate
He got health issues
Smack, don't be surprised to see Chef cookin' wit' Organik (organic) plates
I been in this position, tryin' to get respect
Feelin' like you ain't live up to your full potential yet
I know you wanna get a check
But make classics wit' your peers and forget the vets
I'm tryna keep you gettin' booked
They came here to see Prep cook: I'm assistin' Chef!
You know what the main problem is?
You doin' the same shit your father did
See, your pops was on point, god (guard)
I heard he held the rock
Quick to gain to sniff the 'caine and keep the metal hot
You quit that group full of writers after they helped your stock
Like father, like son
You got on SMACK and then left the block (Bloque)
This the part where I start talkin' about shit that you said to me
My nigga Bangz, he can rebuttal, but I can do that shit heavily
You said somethin' about "I paved the way"
That ain't no secret
And you supposed to be a Blood, right?
Throwin' up that B shit
I brought Crips wit' me!
Them niggas'll make you see clips
He said "Pave the way"
Well, that's why you on the concrete, 'cause you didn't know what that C meant (cement)
I heat clips
The doctors gon' have to get a rocket out you
Just look at his fuckin' circle
BLAOW! I'll have a Top behind you!
This is not for council
Nigga, you do not wanna play it
You might pull that shit out, but you do not wanna spray it
You know what a 'K is
I'll have your body stuffed in the basement
You tryna think of a rebuttal, right?
BLAOW! Put your brains on him - now he gotta say it!
I don't need to do three of them thangs
This is one of my shortest rounds
Go 'head and do what you do, nigga

My fault, y'all
Okay, I'mma make it back up by the third

[Round 2: Chef Trez]
Who in here really believe Prep be clappin' shit?
(Nobody)
Raise your hand

[Tyranny]
I know he do

[Chef Trez]
Damn, my nigga, you fake as shit

(*As the crowd turns to see who raised a hand, Tyranny stammers and quickly tries to backtrack his statement*)

I'm not even gonna penalize for your mistakes and shit

He said somethin' 'bout Bullpen and Spit Dat Heat, right?
Nigga, I will break yo' shit
Go back to my roots
Rob you, but lift up your collar before I take your shit!
I said, the gun ain't got no bodies yet, right?
I'll put your team on it
Smack, I will never leave you for King of the Dot
Every gun I got got a beam on it!
And you threw your whole career away
But this the nigga that's poppin'?
The nigga that ruined his stock a while ago, and ever since it's been droppin'?
Was on B.E.T., Rookies vs. Vets
They was even givin' him options
But he Redd Foxx
'Cause a big part of his career was Chess (chest) givin' him problems!
Your head get snapped
Nigga, I'll pistol-whip your bitch-ass before I let it clap
Don't be dumb! Never lack
Go across his shit wit' a gun, he numb from hella smacks
Scream "Free DOT!"
Then reincarnate y'all battle...
I'm bringin' that "Um-Beretta" back!
Yo, I'm tryna get a million views
And you a big help, my nigga - less work
'Cause in order for the Chef to accomplish a mill' (meal)
He gotta get through the Prep first!
So I could prep a mill' or give Prep a mill'
Gun to the back of his head
Put the machine behind him like a record deal!
I'mma keep killin'!
I'll have your inside outside, give it that street feelin'
Then put what's outside back inside: I finished the rebuildin'!
I was settin' the blueprint, but y'all were sleep, snorin' on the Chef
That freestyle mid-round witty style is me
You wasn't important to the rest
But now you back wit' a new flow
Thank me for formin' it correct
I'm the Chef - we create the recipe and formula for Prep
Two guns, don't get stupid
One "Chef Trez", one "Prep", they spit ruthless
Both off tops, but one a straight shot
The other got a twist to it
You tryna check the Chef?
I'll go to your set for wreck
Step correct
Leave your shit wide open
You'll be inside ya Clan with ya head stretched: Inspectah Deck
The rest is set
Grim Reaper or your soul, I'm here to collect the debt
Freeze your life
Let off wit' clips and pause your shit: that's the Prep effect!
I'm pissed, Prep, leavin' his front steps, I got the clip hangin'
He ain't even know I'm behind the Bush plottin' like Dick Cheney!
You battled God's Son
But I ain't Nas, son, I'm quite devilish
And a 2K mastermind when the weapon gripped
Fuck the extra shit
Shots go right through his temple: I'm a corner specialist!
I could push him around
I blast blocks, get on my bully for now
Fuck six feet
I treat every nigga as Sasquatch
There'll at least be a whole foot in the ground
The type of bangers I rock wit', you could never appear 'round
And if you do, it's an automatic ray, you fuckin' queer clown
Red beam, dot on his head, makin' it clear now
The Glock-19...it's been legally smokin' for a year now
Y'all see what I did this round?
You can't compete wit' me in my lane
While you was freestylin' faggot shit, I was becomin' a beast in this game
While you was freestylin' faggot shit, I was the one keepin' 'em sane
While you was freestylin' faggot shit, I had the whole world wantin' to do three of them thangs

[Round 3: Prep]
(*The round opens up with Jade trying to help Prep tie a necktie*)

[Prep]
Take this one, right
You hold this like that, and put this that-a-way
Move...move your finger

[Jade]
Man, do it yourself

[Prep]
Let- I'm feelin' a way
Fuck it - I'd rather put the clip on (clip-on) anyway!

This my round, this my round!
I promise you, this my round
It's the vet shit, I promise you

Listen, we both came from the PGs!
We both came from the Proving Grounds
But I won't quit climbin'
PGs, then I'm wipin' tiers (tears) like my bitch cryin'
I been ridin', strapped up, choppers and mags
Ain't twins, but look alike
I call 'em "Saga" and "Jaz"
"Th3 Saga" show you the light, and then God is comin'
"Jaz" only got one body, but be at all the functions!
You still don't get why I call them that!?
Man, y'all be buggin'!
"Th3 Saga" will leave 'em holey (holy), but "Jaz" just started bustin'!
Yo, how many of y'all got kids?
So y'all know when they watchin' cartoons, you watchin' cartoons
That's somethin' y'all should all know
Me and my daughter was watchin' SpongeBob, right?
I was thinkin' of bars, though
Let arms go
I'm right where Chef live, wit' the AR, bro
Squidward house: I'm next to Chef crib wit' the long nose!
And we still on SpongeBob
Yeah, me and my daughter watch it a lot
You didn't need to join a group
You were good wit' your stock
Went from Writer's Bloque to Cave Gang
Some would call it a swap
Oh, you Patrick
Thought you could be a star under Roc(k)!
We still on SpongeBob!
God damn them kids
I can feel it under the shirt, that's where the hammer is
Hold on, this where the cannon live
That's Mr. Krabs's daughter
Yeah, this bitch Pearl, but the hammer hid (hammerhead)

(*As the crowd reacts, a few audience members are a little confused, with somebody off-camera chiming in with "Wait, she's a whale, ain't she?"*)

Yo, the cannon's big
I'll fill his face up wit' holes
Lay him straight on his back, starin' straight through the nose
Lookin' up to a couple like relationship goals
The .8 get exposed, just to hit you wit' the fire
Slap in a 16 like abusin' a minor
Up the Glock!
Flood your block!
Then bolt (boat) through the city like Houston survivors!

He not winnin' this round

Aye, Trez!
You ever broke a gun apart and put it back together?
No!?
You should be hit wit' a MAC
For callin' yourself the Chef, but can't make a Biscuit from scratch!
Listen! Yo!
You throwin' up them big B's and that flag for NOTHIN'!
You FOOD!
And lil' bro wanna ask you somethin'...

[Bubba Forde]
IS YOU BLOOOOOOD!?

[Prep]
Listen, yo
You Blood and tryin' to stop the flow of my cash?
You'll get a Dose of this fast
We saw what happened the last time a Brim got too close to the Math!
Exposin' him fast!
Can you keep it natural wit' us?
You ain't really in them fields pullin' back on the triggers
Everybody wanna be Ghost like they actual killers
I'll play Tasha: sneak behind your back wit' the Silver!
Listen, I done already set here and caused wreck on the set
For the next couple of bars, I'mma be addressin' the Chef
I don't wanna hear nothin' about your long caps and how they blaze and flare
This is chess, not checkers
This ain't a game in here
Don't slip, make that cut
This not a game in here
Aye, Goodz, I'm cookin' this nigga - bring my apron here!

(*Heiron, another Maryland battle rapper, passes Prep a white chef's apron*)

(*out of breath*) Alright, I fucked that up

(*Prep tosses the apron away from him, someone in the crowd from behind the camera tosses it back into the ring, Chef Trez catches it and passes it to Prep, who tosses it on the floor*)

I fucked that up
Yo, alright, I fucked up, but listen! Listen!
Listen...
Should I shoot him in his stomach?
Man, a few is goin' through ya
Or hit him in the head, put two in your medulla
I'm movin' wit' the shooters
Either way, Chef get this tip automatically: gratuity included!
This was supposed to happen for a minute
We've been diggin' up the dirt
But it's crazy because you rebuttal and I rebuttal
You say you do it better and I do it worse
What'd he say?
He go from the top to the bottom like Hogan, right?
Okay, this where that shit is gettin' worse
Like Hogan do, this Hawk (Hulk) is rippin' through your shirt
Man, DMV, man
Let's go

[Round 3: Chef Trez]
The first part of your round was amazing
But nigga, the rest threw
I mean, you keeping your hand on the apron
My nigga, how do you expect to do what the Chef do?
You confused, my nigga?
‘Cause I got two guns when I’m shootin’ at shorty
They ain’t heavy, both light
They ain’t twins either, nigga
“NuNu” and “40”
This one “40” ‘cause she come from the block (Bloque) and used to roll with the Chef
This one “NuNu” ‘cause she got plenty bodies and can get close to the Prep!
I’m up here wit’ a nigga that swear he a champ like he got the fuckin’ belt
But when he get up here and rap his bars, ain’t nothin’ felt
On the flip side, y'all see the pain in my eyes
I struggle with my fuckin' health
So I'm not only battling you
I'm also battling my fuckin' self!
Y'all see me throwin' up Blood
Yeah, one side of me a ruthless fuck
But the other got internal bleeding
So I be throwin' up blood when I puke and stuff
On one side, Blood protectin' me
On the other side, blood infectin' me
Prep, I don't know who to trust!
I live a sick life and a sick life
I got bad health, but obsessed with death
I can't get right
I been through the most, but never hesitated to take a bitch life
I wear a size 32, but had to wear my brother 34's and tuck the gun so they fit tight
Everything you heard? I am that
I'll tell fam, "Scrap.
Fuck the damn raps. Where your hands at?"
And point .9 like I shorted him on a gram sack
Then pull out the mini 'K
The clip got a little curve to it like your gram's back!
You was trainin', but off course a lil' bit: that's Amtrak!
Choke him up on stage, said I'm up for Born Legacy I am Smack
Like wifey with her makeup done, in front of the computer, I doubled my damn Max (Macs)
Long clips, got 'em all slidin' together like a dance act
Big drum, but the silencer got it like a flute, I'm bringin' the band back
I specialize with the drum, cause with the sticks you see where my hands at
I'm more than vicious, I lost too many niggas to bars, I can't ignore the sentence
So I still put on, I wake up throwin' my shit up, that's morning sickness
These you gon' remember killa, they designed for the brain, they temple hitters
Not too complex, I keep it direct for the simple niggas
Whatchu know 'bout hittin' licks?
Aimin' the grip while bro kick the door
Or toting around a scale, checkin' your weight every second like you insecure
Nigga, you not a goon
You better hope God got ya when ya soul leavin' out the room
I feel like I'm in the mob, partna, I got a lot of tools
I can let shots pop ya, or ya top get bruised
I'm part of the Godfather
You want it by the bing or by the boom?
I gotta be real, not too many niggas make it where I stay, fam'
The extra shit? Give niggas a grave plan
But niggas die every day, damn
Well, I took my street smarts and talent and put together a great plan
But you should've known I would break away from the block (Bloque), I'm a Cave man
Nigga you've been dead for years but act like you livin' great
You not a rapper, you a bitch, we got different ways
Took time off to switch ya ways
To return and end up right back in the grave
I'm grown, so if you don't wanna be remembered from a box, find a kid and play (Kid N' Play)
Time