Craig Lamar vs. Yung Griz

[Round 1: Craig Lamar]
You wanna know what I find funny as shit, you...chubby, Donell-Jones-lookin' son of a BITCH!?
Fuck it, I ain't got time to waste
If you touch me in any kind of way, niggas is dyin'...the Hotel Rwanda way
But you pick the time and place
I'll show up to where your mama stay
And put the deuce to her forehead like Piccolo...tryin' to concentrate!
You gettin' cooked tonight!
You shouldn't have even booked the flight
This was a bad route
Now you assed out like a huka fight
Identical knives
I ain’t have to give him the left after he took the right
But after he took the swipe?
Shit, it’s only right I gave him a splitting image of the look-alike
But I hope your heart’s official with eloquence
Squadrons, missiles, and severance
To carve your shit is the preference
‘Cause it causes issues with evidence
I don’t like to talk, my nigga, but if you brought a pistol, let’s settle it
I’ll let a machine do the talkin’ for me: think artificial intelligence
Yeah, I know people, wit’ mo’ scraps than the old Diesel
On account of that, I’ll put the pound to black like we pro-equal
This was ‘posed to be P body
But KG, since that’s your man, fuck it, I’ll let the chrome heat through
And if him and mine squirrel, he’ll get put in a cast if he moves a muscle
Think Rocky & Bullwinkle
I ain’t stressin’ no witness
Straight disrespect to you snitches
I’ll put the Eagle on the snake like a Mexico emblem
Long Magnum, I’ll bring the TEC to yo’ trenches
And wave the nose across your nose like eskimo kisses!
Oh, you from the hood, right?
Well, I’ll let my niggas from the slums handle you
You’ll get your flesh ate if I let them TECs spray
Nigga, can the bull
I’m bipolar, so if I don’t let somethin’ tough handle you
Then I’m bangin’ hammers like I’m tryna win my bitch a stuffed animal
You’re lookin’ a little shocked there, my nigga!
Why the stale face?
You little devil, you, didn’t notice this was your Hell date?
Drive-bys don’t work wit’ me
You might as well mate
Or my Hispanics will shoot at your whip, and have somethin’ flyin’ door-to-door like they tryna sell cake!
Nigga, you talk with a lisp, a faggoty lithp
You be thpittin’ over T’s
Ex-employee at McDonald’s
He got fired ‘cause you were always spittin’ over teas
So if I find you in the streets, I’ll pull a U on you, and have shit spittin’ over T’s
Which is ironic, ‘cause pullin’ a U on you is havin’ shit spittin’ over T’s!
Yeah, I’m bangin’ his cranium
Turn his brain to a stadium
This big MAC will push a nigga wig back like Eddie Arkadian
The shit I’m pullin’ out the jacket look like it was created by aliens
I’ll leave the scene more bloody than an angry Australian
So you feel like you want bloody war, and you think you bloody sure
I hope you brought a bloody four, or get your shit bloody tore
Don’t mean to sound like a wanker, but if you touch me one bloody more
I’ll shoot, and leave you wit’ a bloody body on the bloody floor
Well, you bloody WHORE!
Try to run, get your pan sizzled, I am not a stovetop
If I catch you at Traffic, then it ends there, I am not a roadblock
If I’m gon’ find you, I’mma find you, I ain’t gotta globetrot
No need to verify if I’m real
If I re-capped your nigga, his image is gettin’ clicked on
I am not a robot!
You remember the day your bitch left, right?
My nigga, she was a side piece
Sorry I had to do it to you
But these bitches ain’t shit, and that’s beyond me
She let me toot it and boot it
But I don’t give a fuck, she let the guys beat
She was addicted to the money, but bitch, you broke
So if she ain’t comin’ home, then that’s probably the reason why, G
You must be high, G
Let’s go

[Round 1: Yung Griz]
So they gave me Craig...in L.A....on a Friday...
Aye, they was claimin' this a look they got me
Well, now it's Damon in the bathroom...they booked a body!
You should stayed east, 'cause we won't tolerate that weak shit
They not goin' crazy for those lazy bars in the least bit
And they know I'm a star
Hybrid car
Yeah, they gon' gas me too, but I'm electrifying
So, half the time, I don't really need it!
What we got!? Yung Griz vers' this faggot!
I been spazzin', he been average
Gave me a warm-up 'cause they needed me on this card
You just practice
I should go a few minutes over time
'Cause I'm like a few minutes overtime...
Bitch, if it wasn't for me, you woulda missed Traffic!
Know what's crazy? How hip-hop as a whole done did a switch
And these metrosexual-lookin' rappers make my trigger finger get an itch
I feel like Deebo, or Debo
I'll let you niggas pick
'Cause I came lookin' for Craig, and...all I found was this battle-rappin' bitch!
Talkin' bars and baby hair
Oh, that's how Craig gettin' down?
Any man who brags about baby hair is a hell of a clown
I woulda 30'd you, instead hit his head wit' a heavy pound
Now it's a classic...
It's too bad, I gave Craig edges every round!
Lift and spark
I'm lookin' just over the edge when I draw: midget art
Get a round...this fuck nigga won't get a bar?!
This nigga hard!?
Elbow tattoo: you been a mark!
It's like that!
You been livin' pussy, get ya life snatched!
I ain't even wanna battle, 'til I saw you online, disrespectin' one of my hats
If I see you stuff these dirty fuckin' dreads in a bucket hat online again, my nigga...(*chk-chk*)
Left and right clap
And two will park in ya locks: now it's a bike rack!
I'm off the chain wit' it!
Trey Gang wit' it
And it's Bar Code (Facts!)
That's why the shit that I say different
I said, "Bar Code" (Facts!)
I ain't talkin' 'bout the clan, stupid
I mean "bar code" 'cause every line means something when you scan through it!
WHAT!? WHAT!?
The flow bananas
I wish this fuck nigga would say "Grip a blamma"
I'll snatch that bitch from you before you lift ya hands up
Let it sing, and rip ya mans up
Then in the jeans, where I slip the hammer
Now I got Lamar's ratchet on the low: I'm French Montana!
I fuckin' rap, and you doing songs with the Migos flow
You think using those new-age slang words is what you gon' need, li'l bro?
Second this bitch, "Yee!", I'm lightin' God: this the Ebro Show!
I heard it all from you!
I'm sorry, Lamar, I ain't at all humble
'Cause honestly, my slogan 'bout to get more reaction than any bar from you
It's BAR after BAR, I'm chalking you like that!
In yo' grill, I'm gon' bark on you like that!
Don't lose, Smack ain't market you like that!
Yo' turn...don't let me (TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT!)
GRIZ!

[Round 2: Craig Lamar]
Buck-toothed Russell Simmons ain't got the guts for killin'
That's why I won't let none of that shit you say get to me
And far as your murder go, I orchestrated it perfectly like a symphony
I got guns in different sizes, for any nigga that you send for me
So when I say I'mma grip the piece
Then to each his own, like I agree to disagree
And you a bitch to me
You ain't heard? I'm notorious wit' the deuce!
That shit'll have your face lookin' like The Saurus's when it shoot!
Drive-by...I brought somethin' glorious for your troops
Wit' a ladder hangin' out the chopper like I'm tryna save Morpheus from the roof!
BY MYSELF, nigga!
Of course we'll spin n' shoot!
But you soft, nigga, play ya parts
Have a change in hearts
Or the doctors gon' have to give you a change in hearts
You ain't as smart
I keep the gun low, but if confrontation starts
Y'all gon' see a big increase on Griz like population charts
I don't need these extras
I'mma let a mean beam stretch ya
Take my life as a joke, and you'll die laughing
Rest in peace, Heath Ledger
Give me a three-piece special
Or it's two guns if ya see me stretch ya
I'll have him talkin' to both the arms, like C.T. Fletcher
BANG! That's all he heard when I popped the lead
This Smith Jr. will give a nigga Bernard Hopkins legs
He won't even be there to help his homie out if I drop him dead
So as soon as he see the gun, bet the kid start racin', like, "The last one's a rotten egg!"
Nigga, you got a Holiday heart, and I don't fight with fags
To dodge these bullets, you gon' have to be lightning-fast
My niggas military-trained, they'll let a chrome snipe ya ass
And you won't know where it came from
All he gon' see is pops in his face, like, "Damn, you look just like yo' dad!"
And you a fake!
Y'all don't see the hand gestures when he pops off some?
The way he pauses between sentences, and then barks off some?
Admiral Nelson's must be how you get your rocks off, son
'Cause when I deep-scan a nigga, cheap brand of liquor
All I see is a knockoff Rum
Get your crew murked
I'm pointin' at 'em like, "That's a cool shirt"
So many foreign machines in the whip, I don't know any of the sub titles
Word to Tsu Surf!
If I find out where you stay, guess what it's gon' be like, Mike?
Like Mike when I let that tool burst
'Cause we gon' do an angle around ya crib, like Tracy helpin' Calvin with his schoolwork, nigga!
Man, let's go

[Round 2: Yung Griz]
Bad bitch hit my Snap
Said, "Smoke Craig, I'll let you slip ya dick inside"
I guess you had to go in the box, to get the box: that's a DM slide
Thing raised high
'Cause I'll be wantin' to clap at you smart bitches
You talk sarcastic to me and an arm rippin'
A headshot will leave brains and baby hair everywhere when dawg gets it
They found some extra strands in your DNA: now you autistic!
You look like a cop
We tryna figure out where you hide the mic when this attire is on
Caught it hangin' out his shirt, BANG! Fire the arm
Trevor from Fresh Prince: this nigga died 'cause the wire too long
Wit' a BIG strap
The kickback, your fingers will break
Start wrappin' up the grip, ran out of tape
Fuck it...beat him wit' the handle
Bodak Yellow...'cause the wrap don't matter if the shit knock
Now it's a butt in ya face!
Niggas told me, "Craig don't need a PG"
Craig was like, "Bro, that's facts"
Norbes and John John...'cause wit' this PG, I'mma make you a star
So quit trolling, Jack!
I know you wack!
But Ol' Baby Hair gon' say he strapped!
So I'll knock a chunk of that off: I'll give you cradle cap!
I HATE when you rap!
You sound like you tryna PREACH, or give some kind of lecture!
Ain't you Team Wordplay?
BOW! R Streetz will catch the next one
Stack yo' body on his body, so when the feds come
They found Craig smoky on Streetz: that's Normandie and Western!!!
This NERD trippin'!
The NERVE in him!
I'm SERVIN' him!
Dentin' ya glass jaw, like the TVs wit' the CURVE in 'em!
I'm LEARNIN' him!
I'm sorry! They won't have a round for you!
It's gon' be hard to chill wit' you later, and...try not to clown on you!
'Cause this is Traffic, you like a cell phone
I mean, we tryna look cool, but really, we lookin' DOWN ON YOU!
On GOD, I wanna light ya shit!
'Cause you look like the type to snitch
Aye, you ever seen the girls wit' the Latina skin and the chinky eyes, and the phat girl-
Nigga, you all TYPE OF BITCH!
Fuck is you TALKIN' 'BOUT!?
Have him biting the DE, like how you breathe in P.E
I go in wit' the nose, and blow out his mouth!
Let's air it out
Tell these niggas you ain't try to duck this battle last-minute
Talking 'bout your manager ain't get your damn ticket...
Man, quit it
Last thing your manager told you was, "Bro, before you clock out, do these damn dishes!"
You making low-mid-tier money, tops
Oh, but you had to hire a nigga!?
Got a manager, and ain't been on SMACK yet...still ain't fired the nigga!
You treat this chance like they just handing 'em out
Almost fucked up our PG
Now I gotta handle this clown
Oh, you gon' shoot me?
Well, you better start grabbing it now
Before you get your shot, I take a cut: I'm your manager now!
It's BAR after BAR, I'm chalking you like that!
In yo' grill, I'm gon' BARK on you like that!
Don't lose, Smack ain't market you like that!
Yo' turn...DON'T LET ME TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT!

[Round 3: Craig Lamar]
This nigga got all of Cali with him
All of Cali with him...and we in Cali
You said Normandie and Western?
Niggas start clappin' it out?
Yeah, shit all funny 'til I bring this MAC in ya house!
Ayo, nigga, I'll let you pick a weapon
You don't have to brawl
None of this shit is new to me, but cut it out
You don't have the balls
Little nigga wit' a big gun, soon as I blast it off
The kick make me slide up like Usher on "U Don't Have To Call"
This the final showdown, nigga, and I hate to do this
But this sweet round's a wrap for you, like crepes and Cool Whip
My mate's a nuisance
All it takes is a blade to prove it
And we'll take turns givin' you the ox, like we ain't got the same taste in music
Nigga, that's scar after scar
I'll mark on you like that
Inf' beam, I'mma let it target you like that!
Don't grill me, or you gon' get barbecued like that!
The gun got a speech impediment: don't let it talk to you like that!
New gun, like toys from the '90s when I get to touchin'
This is not a troll, doll
I got a potato head for me to get to stuffin'
Easy bake, you got some nerve to think I'm wit' the bluffin'
Face shot, nigga, we stretch arms strong
So even if I skip it, I won't miss the buck-it!
Nigga, you rap the same in every battle
Change it, it's boring me
Beautiful nina, I get to aimin' it gorgeously
Give you a five-second head start, start wavin' accordingly
Nigga, you gon' meet your maker like you came with a warranty
I mean, do I think Woodson would run? Honestly, son would
Son me? Wouldn't be somethin' that son could
Wooden bat across Wood son, that'll kill son good
The cops gon' find Woodson dead on top of his son...in some wood!
We can go to yo' hood and tussle, coward!
All it takes is a few puffs of sour, get my knuckles powdered
And I'll be ready to scuff for hours
Where you from? What, Castle Hills, you said?
Well, if you so much as even mumble power
I'll be runnin' through Castle Hills like I'm lookin' for Rapunzel's tower!
Dumpin' showers, nigga!
You let Clutch clutch your hat, and didn't get no fists involved
And what pissed me off is you gave him a faggot smile and tried to whip it off
I told my clique, "Stick tall"
If a nigga bitched me, that's a big bit- naw!
You grip my fit, it's on!
I'mma be ready to risk it all!
Fuck is you talkin' 'bout?
Nigga, I'mma be ready to risk it all! (*laughs*)
But let you tell it, you from the block
You know some that's wit' it
You've been tippin' scales all your life
You know some that's did it
Well, I know fiends killin' for a hit
Hope yo' onions hittin'
Or you gon' die for carryin' all that weight...no pun intended!
Your auntie's a thick bitch...but she a bad fuck
I told her, "Invite your friends over for a fast buck"
Got 'em on that Henney, they was stumblin' after the last cup
They was both beggin' for the dick, so I had them split the pole like bad luck!
Head shot!
If I give him a head shot, then it's goodbye, y'all
And I'm headed back to court like, "Who took my ball?"
I'll be on your block with any hood I call
Just lookin' for another body like a Good Guy Doll, nigga!
By myself, nigga!

[Round 3: Yung Griz]
You know, the day the card dropped, niggas was worried for me
Like, "Aye, bro, that's Craig Lamar. You gotta really cook"
Main reason, they say Craig so seasoned, I should be really shook
My response all day...this nigga Salt Bae...
Maybe I was throwing salt, but without the SMACK, how seasoned does he really look?
Who'd you battle? Chef Trez? Big Kannon?
And they both beat the dog outta you
You battled JC...Rum Nitty...
Made 'em both look taller than you
You battle all these known niggas and fuck up
And that's why I hate this guy
You're like the younger version of NuBorn, with a much gayer vibe
So you're like a premature Born, which fits you...
'Cause all you do is get a name and DIE!
No wonder why they ain't wanna give you this bag in New York!
'Cause all your credit comes from the pros you claim, and this ain't fantasy sports
This the league that counts, so fuck your silly hype
Don't die tonight
Just prove to us that you really nice
John Wall, Lonzo Ball
Welcome to L.A
Yeah, you popular, but now I gotta show this PG what the league is really like!
Gun in your mouth, 'cause they was making me wait
Nose all in the grill, like I couldn't wait for this plate
Make you run your shit, then butt your shit
And give a fuck if he run to the jakes
I'll do the 15...off-the-clock, like I'm taking a break!
You beating Griz? In Cali?
Bro, that's what ain't going up
You got better odds than this nigga Qleen Paper showing up!
And if you do think your pen gon' win on cam'
Bro, you gets no luck
'Cause they gon' really know it's clean (Qleen) when they (*smack*) hear the gems (Jimz) I snuck!
At least you got a vacation in Cali!
Aye, thanks for coming out
Tell the truth: this the battle you really wanted, so don't try to run ya mouth
Or a gut shot from a mean grip
Unless you QueenzFlip, I don't think you gon' wanna battle wit' ya stomach out!
Niggas had you winning this battle!
It got me pissed off
They said it was Born Legacy for you after this, 'til this bitch lost
Now it's straight back to the PG's: that's a tip-off!
A mill'll blow, and we'll forget all about you: now you Rick Ross!
And you know what I heard?
Aye, that 2017 Class dropped, didn't it?
Oh, I guess my resume didn't clear
Cool...2018 is a different year
And y'all niggas chasing me now
And I got a clip for anybody who getting near
This is my shit, and I'll beat shit down your leg if you get in here!
You ni-
Oh, my fault, Craig
Aye, don't trip, I know I'm battling you
Just stand there, looking weird
I feel like Pops: taking my shit, like Craig wasn't even here!
You knew you was dead tonight, and I won't even hold you
You shoulda ducked your flight like your fake manager told you
It's BAR after BAR, I'm chalking you like that!
In yo' grill, I'm gon' BARK on you like that!
You lost, and Smack ain't market you like that!
I'm done...WHY'D YOU LET ME TALK TO YOU LIKE THAT!?!
GRIZ!