Funky Dee vs. Mischief Artist

Round 1 (beat produced by Lewi B)

[Verse 1: Mischief Artist]
Now it's round one, it's nuttin' but flows I'ma kill him with
I don't wanna hear a man talk when I'm spinning him
It's about to get cold, man's shivering
Now we're live in the flesh, no Twittering
My man's cool but he knows I'm different
Unique's the flow, it's about time I kill him with it
Watch me kill him with it, 'bout to get silly with it
Oi, you, are you gonna win? I'm mimicking
Oi, you, are you gonna shut up?
Ain't Stormzy, but shut up
Funky's dead, now you're on grime, blud, shut up
All I wanna know, are you gonna? Are you gonna?
Oi, you, are you gonna shut up?
Ain't Stormzy, but shut up
Funky's dead, now you're on grime, blud, shut up
All I wanna know

[Verse 2: Funky Dee]
Walk up to him, slide-slide ⁣⁣
Hit you with the right-right ⁣⁣
New gen MCs⁣⁣ you, better know that grime's my house ⁣⁣
I got the code to the Wi-Fi ⁣⁣
Click-click, night-night, send you to the sky-sky ⁣⁣
Your friends won’t ride-ride ⁣⁣
I punched your brother so hard⁣⁣
He span around like the Jackson 5-5 ⁣⁣
I make money from grime-grime ⁣⁣
You make money 'cause you work ⁣
Fake MCs, you get on my nerves ⁣⁣
Put you in the hearse⁣⁣
Oi, Jammer⁣⁣
I'm gonna scar him with third-degree burns ⁣⁣
Put you in the dirt with the worms ⁣
In grime, you are the worst⁣

[Verse 3: Mischief Artist]
He keeps screaming "oi, you, are you gonna bang?"
But wait, he ain't even a grime MC
I'm a grime MC, you can't rhyme with me
Watch how I kill him on this grimy beat
I'm too cold so they're calling me I-C-E
He's old news, no ITV
Mill, mill? Shut up
Tell me why is he crying, please?
LOTM, man don't pretend
So many waves, you'll drown in the deep end
Please don't interrupt me when I'm preaching
I'll beat the black off you like you're bleaching
Wait, who's speaking? This is my space
I ain't Tom, so who's peaking?
Yeah, man's tweaking, Funky seems lost
So it's only right that we teach him

[Verse 4: Funky Dee]
I swear this guy's weird ⁣⁣
He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣
He how can he send for me? ⁣⁣
He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣
He’s never faced fears⁣⁣
He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣
His name's Jerome Pascall⁣⁣
From Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣
He's from Borehamwood in Hertfordshire⁣⁣
What you know about going to a set⁣⁣
MCing with guns in the room?⁣⁣
You might hear the ting go boom⁣⁣
MC with your opps in the room ⁣⁣
Give me space, give me room⁣⁣
Put the stick in your face, no broom⁣⁣
This is real life shit, listen⁣⁣
This ain’t no cartoon ⁣⁣
Gun fingers in your face ⁣⁣
I will tell you to your face you're a wasteman⁣⁣
You talk street, you've never been in a gang ⁣⁣
I'll do you worse than Kozzie did Sox ⁣⁣
I'll do you worse than Lay-Z did Marger⁣⁣
For the bread, I worked harder⁣⁣
Punch you in the face, then fuck your baby mudda⁣⁣
You could never be a grime kid⁣⁣
You could never be Chip or Ice Kid⁣⁣
Or Dot Rotten ⁣⁣
Your breath smells and ⁣⁣
You look old in the face like Dot Cotton ⁣⁣
I twiss and turn like Robben from Holland⁣⁣
After this clash⁣⁣
I'm gonna rob 'em

[Verse 5: Mischief Artist]
Yo, yo, would you look at this?
All that talk on your timeline
And now you've gotta actually clash me
No more Twitter, blud, you can't @ me
G-R-E-A-T but not Gatsby
You can't B-E-A-T or clash me
Leave man shaky, shaky, no Bambi
You are D-E-A-D, it's that deep, I'm like
It's on, Funky D von
I don't wanna hear no funky house song
Kill him on the riddim, he's gone
Didn't wanna battle 'cause he knows it's long
South side resident, should have sent Wong
South side resident, should have sent Bearman
Claim you're a grime MC, I'm like "where, man?"
I'm waging war like Kim Jong-un

[Verse 6: Funky Dee]
Gonna do you so greazy⁣
I don’t give a fuck if you roll with that guy⁣
From North Weezy⁣
I’ll put you on my line till you feed me⁣
Your jaw will get spun like a CD⁣
Send your teeth out of space like E.T.⁣
Make your girls bow when they see me
No Chaka Demus, they can’t tease me, tease me
Two fingers up your girl spinning
In this clash, I’m winning⁣
Fingers are moving like I'm on Rinse FM mixing
I put 1Xtra on her clit⁣
Move my head if she try kiss⁣
You ain’t on the same mode to be like this ⁣
You can’t flex or represent this⁣
You can have a screw face like Undertaker
Bow, send you to your maker ⁣
Body laid flat like a manger⁣
Code name for revolver spinning⁣
Elimination chamber
You can think you're bad like Brock Lesnar⁣
Gun will make you dance like a jester⁣
Could've bought a Lambo, I could've bought a Tesla⁣
Awooo⁣
On more arms than eczema⁣
Awooo⁣
Me nah ramp, me nah skin⁣
Me nah laugh, me nah grin ⁣
I'm hard to maintain⁣
When I put that .45 under your chin ⁣
I’ve been stabbed in my back⁣
I never smiled or grinned
What?

Round 2 (beat produced by Zeph Ellis)

[Verse 1: Mischief Artist]
This one is straight-up passion
Let me break it down if you can't fathom
My man told me that I was shit
I put the work in and made this happen
I ain't ever had no one by my side
Shout out to Jammer for Lord of the Mics
I've been grinding for so many years
It's only now that I'm getting my shine
See, I've been doing this ting so strategic
I'm too sick like twins that's bulimic
I'm not Chip Diddy Chip but trust, I swear down
If I believe it, I will achieve it
When I was firing shots, you were tweeting
You should have kept quiet 'cah this is war season
My man told me to put £1k up
Now we're standing here, what an eediat

[Verse 2: Funky Dee]
Argggg, shit, I fucked up my line ⁣
Nah, you, you’ve got a fucked up life⁣
Wanna remix So Solid lines⁣
So I'm gonna show you that karma’s a bitch, real life⁣
You got 21 seconds to go, bowww⁣
You got three seconds to live, wooow⁣
Look who's doing it⁣
Look who's doing it now⁣
Blud, you don’t know me
I'm the god of mischief like Loki⁣
I heard that you creep in your sister's room
On a low key, shh⁣
Crept in her bed ⁣
And covered her mouth like shh, shh⁣
You're a nonce like R Kelly⁣
I got my info about you from Kelly ⁣
You're a fat shit, tuck in your belly ⁣
Why you think your time will never come?⁣
Why you think that you will never blow?⁣
Sickers was gassing him on up on the IG
'Cause I kicked him out of the grime scene⁣
Errr, nastyyyy⁣
Flow so mean⁣
You know what?
You’re a nobody

[Verse 3: Mischief Artist]
Lyrical ability, yeah, man are moving differently
Make your girl spin round something like Billie Jean
Nobody's spinning me, sharp like guillotine
Man ah get cut if you think say me kidding, G
Man's not [?], man's not soft
So there's no way you're killing me
I ain't Big Shaq, man's not hot
Mortal Kombat, can't even finish me
Yeah, man said it
Dem man run out of credit
Slowed it down so you get it
But you man won't even get it
Do you get it? Lef' it
I'm a menace like Dennis
Ace when I serve, no tennis
Speed it up, man's gonna rev it

[Verse 4: Funky Dee]
Counter attack, counter attack ⁣
How did I know you was gonna say dat?⁣
Made around 100 racks on a track ⁣
You're still living in your mum's flat ⁣
I hit you with a Shaq attack ⁣
Errghhh⁣
'Cause you're an eediat like dat ⁣
Oi Jammer, watch him get jacked ⁣
Wouldn’t touch your girl with a bargepole⁣
Hit you wid the forearm like Swarvo⁣
All you do is remix flows⁣
You talk about trap, you ain’t got a trap phone ⁣
Been around more traps than that kid from Home Alone ⁣
Ring ring⁣
That’s my Nokia phone
Serving food on the roads ⁣
You know I do dirt on the roads⁣
Clart man down with the pole (kooong, kooong)⁣
Clart man down with a pole ⁣
Clart man down in a car
You know I do dirt on the roads⁣
Clart man down with the pole (kooong, kooong)⁣
Clart man down with a pole ⁣
Clart man down in a car

[Verse 5: Mischief Artist]
Certain man have got cold feet, I don’t really know why you phoned me
Stop saying Jammer don’t know me
Blud, I’ve been grafting, the progress is coming on slowly
So stop tryna act like you’re Roll Deep
This bredda cyaan done me, eaten all the pies, I’m hungry
I could [?] Funky
But now I’m on fuckery, Twitter fingers can’t touch me
I’ma do you how Chip did Bugzy
Nah, I’ma do you how Chip did Yungen
Shut up, you don’t really want that problem
Back to back on any stage, I’ll done him
I’m not the one? Yeah, you must have been bugging
I’m not the one? Trust me, I’ll son him
Watch me play dirty, he ain’t on nothing
My man’s gonna go mad in the third round
When he hears me bun him

[Verse 6: Funky Dee]
Dot-dot, what dot-dot?
Eastender with the dot-dot
So rotten with the dot-dot, aim at your top-top
You will drop-drop, so nasty with the dot dot
It’s F dot U dot N dot K dot
Resurrect K Dot
North d-dot, d-dot
South d-dot, d-dot
East d-dot, d-dot, West d-dot, d-dot
Anywhere I spray the dot, d-dot
Red top, no spot
Trigger finger got the chickenpox
Look, I’ll put you in a box
Flowers spelling your name on top
It’s Frazier with a box
Make dough from crops

Round 3 (beat produced by Treble Clef)

[Verse 1: Mischief Artist]
Yo, listen, yo, it's round three, let me get him
He's been talking for a second
I've killed him with flows and I've killed him with passion
Now I'm gonna bun him with venom
He thinks it's a joke, listen clear: I ain't laughing
This right here is a warning
Tell them the truth
You didn't wanna go back-to-back with me when I'm barring
He called my phone
After everything was already set up
Started talking about
He was the reason that I was getting this clash on
Lord of the Mics
But blud, let me tell you
I am a lord of the mics in my own right
So even if you take me off of this DVD
I'ma still stand tall in this music scene
Best believe, ain't nobody blocking my dream
Especially not Funky Dee
I could never let a funky house MC
Try take me for a chief
Blud, what have you done?
One song, one-hit wonder
Are you gonna bang? Shut up
You have never been grime, it's about to get nasty
Tell my man what the bumba?
Yo, my man keeps on saying I'm deluded
I'm gonna break down to you what the truth is
You thought I was just some any MC but
Realised I'm raised on grime and I do this
You had to change your name, deluded
Went from Firmer Dee to Funky Dee-luded
You wanna act and claim like you're big in the scene
Stop running from the bars and prove it

[Verse 2: Funky Dee]
Big pimpin' like Pimp C
My ex, she wan' link me
I was getting letters from cooch
In jail, sipping Hooch
Wing looking like a movie
I pray my bro don't go juvie
I move brown and white, Angelica and Susie
Everything I spit, I spit truly
My head's gone, I'm kinda loopy
I get so much groupies
I eff them up
I make their pussy pink like Snoochie
A hundred spinning on a rouly
Spent 5k on the studi'
I hunt for the treasure like a goonie
This is real life, it ain't no cartoon
I chinged a man's back like there weren't no thing
I chinged a man's back like there weren't no sin
I chinged a man's back like there weren't no bin
Couldn't give a fuck about gym
Spent two bags on the hand ting
Spent 3-4 on a mad ting
Pulled it back like your hamstring
Let off 4-5 on a gang ting
When I MC, I MC with my eyes closed
I call my strap sky dome
I spent seven bills on an iPhone
You know my pattern
Spent three bags on a chain in Hatton
Spent two bags at a bar in Clapham
Spent one bag on a car in Chatham
Look, I splashed on waps on a Monday
Went opp block on a Tuesday
All blacked out like Wednesday
Peng ting throw it back like a Thursday
Met her on Friday
She's a groupie, no Saturday
Doing crazy things in the park
Like goth on a Sunday

[Verse 3: Mischief Artist]
Yo, yo, reality check
You've never been rated in grime, you're a funky guy
Reality is
After "Are You Gonna Bang?", blud, you ain't done shit
Reality check
You think that you're bigger than you are
But reality is
You could've never murked me in this clash
But now I'm gonna thank you, why?
'Cause you done everything I knew you would
I called you out knowing you'd respond to it
It's a checkmate, let me spill the book
The first track, I never mixed down to get your attention
Dickhead, yeah, you fell for it
The second track was to show you that my work rate is crazy
And I'ma bring hell with it
My man said he ain't feeling my bars
Well, guess what? I'ma get braille with it
If this pussyhole pulled out a strap right now
Bet it wouldn't have shells in it
Yeah, you went jail, innit?
You were behind bars, innit?
Oi, blud, stop tryna big up your chest in this clash
'Cause you ain't got half, innit
I'm like after the second diss
He tried say I'm not doing it properly
No video, you've got me... nah
That's what I made him believe
'Cause I gave him three years and left man holey
Just like the three wise kings
He ain't better with the bars or better than me, darg
Let me show you what true grime means

[Verse 4: Funky Dee]
X
Dark on the mic, spark any man, X
Like Maner, Thor with the hammer, pum pum slammer
Two lighties, Shola, Sadie Ama
Never go broke like Glamma
Tinted banger, X
X, X, Vin Diesel X
Arghhhh, like DMX
Give man a suplex, aim at heads
X, X, on a BMX
Clap at your chest
Wheelchair you, Professor X
Aim at heads
Scream who’s next, don’t get vex
Grimy, never bang a girl on her reds
Look so hench, never take steds
Suck it, D, generation X, X
X
Kids in da Hood just like Vortex
Shooting at a shoot like Vertex
Don’t get vex ‘cause I beat your ex
Samuel Peter voice: who’s next?
Left you on the deck, Dubplate Mex
Where was you
When I was getting reloads at Stratford Rex?
Where was you, you?
When I got seven reloads at Club Flex
I’ve got new money, Leon and Lex
I went jail but I didn’t do reps
Wrote new bars so I could rep on sets
X, X, X
Dark on the mic, spark any man, X
Dark on the mic, spark any man, X

[Verse 5: Mischief Artist]
I got a call from Jammer saying
“No mentioning mums”
At the cypher, he mentioned my mum
Wait
Ergh
Nah
I was just waiting for the best part of the beat to
Tell you, rudeboy, that you’re not bad
A son of a whore, what, me? Are you mad?
You’re gonna be some cabaret act
Tim Westwood done [?] already but
I don’t wanna hear man act like he’s bad
You went jail for someone else’s strap
But guess what, fam, you didn’t bang
I did my homework
And look at his face, he’s overly mad
Wait, you can’t fuck with me
I’ve got bars and I’ll kill you off comfortably
I’ll put two straps over your shoulders, blud
But I ain’t talking dungarees
It’s all in honour of Crazy T
I really can’t stand these fake MCs
These wack MCs, crap MCs, and I
Don’t really wanna have to slap MCs, look
Don’t think I won’t ‘cause I will
I don’t like your blood but mill
So mill, mill, mill
Dressed in yellow, I’m here to kill Bill, it’s not
Funky Dee, it’s Chunky Dee
He’s been eating too much bun and cheese
Let’s go lyric for lyric, it’s all fun to me
Got him sitting on the wall, call him Humpty Dee

[Verse 6: Funky Dee]
The opps are on me
But I treat 'em like a rich man giving out drinks at a bar
'Cause the shots are from me
Shotty on my leg, if I get stopped by the feds
On my ends, I'll turn them cops to zombies
No Grizzy, move from me (move, move)
You know I got the power (hmm)
See me moving like Tommy
You should've seen the barrel of my stick
What did it look like?
It looked like a barrel of a stick
Both hands on iron for a snitch
I'll do you worse than Alpo did Mitch
You little bitch
I’ll make you get shook like Tales of the Crypt
End of the war, final conflict
Hit a pagan with a pump
Like Craig’s dad, I’m clapping on grapes when I dump
My gun's so big (how big?)
It’s big like an elephant's trunk
In '03, I rolled with a sword like trunks
.45 with the pump pu-pump pu-pump
Can’t believe that I missed when I tried to slump
Look, you should've seen the hole in the wall
(What did it look like?)
It looked like a hole in the wall
Art of War, there ain’t no rules
Wanna steal bare flows, you effing fool
I’ll buss ya head with a stool
I’ll buss ya head with a flying tool
Pussy