Kinell vs. Mos Prob

[Verse 1: Mos Prob]
Wow, look, it’s the next stage of my whistlestop tour through battle rap’s eccentric white people
Kinell, my sequel
Fucking white people
Before we start, I have to ask: you know how when you’re on drugs and you try to talk English, and it sounds awful
Well when you’re on drugs, and you talk Welsh, does it come out normal?
‘Cause you’re the second Welshman this week I’ve been faced with as well
And he’s sort of my friend, I’m mates with Kinell but, he’s still taking this L
With, three more on thе end, ‘cause you’re fucking up Mos Prob on crack
You can’t havе my style, I want it back
I’ll, amplify these sentimental uppercuts in stereo
You, do what I do except I double up and set in stone
Bugger off and get ya’ own
An, exponential motherfucking debt is owed
No me, no you, like an existential Chuckle Brothers episode
‘Cause you don’t get to fill the blueprint that I earn my keep with with sheep shit
Pungent little man, you make me sick
‘Cause I picture you going, to give blood, ‘cause you’re a gracious chap
Thanks for that, at the steering wheel, driving wildly, taking smack
Swerve into the parking lot, donating that
Doctor comes out with a greying patch and a concerned face that cracks as he says ‘here, take it back’
And it’s not ‘cause you were taking smack
‘Cause they took one look at that beard and, knew he was a closet ginger, and they can’t give another patient that
But enough of these, one punch two punch hack little gimmicks
It’s time to collapse and diminish your slow, painful backpack to the finish with some actual lyrics
I do heartily respect your attachment to kittens
But I’m retracting my image ‘cause of the damage inflicted while you’ve been half-heartedly grappling with it
Now we’re both, pretty awkward and embarrassing innit?
But there’s only one of us that says teabagging’s the limit
See anyone else would be replaying that vid and feel shame and derision
But for you, it’s great that ya’ tripping, the K having its way with ya’ vision
In ya’ head, it’s all rainbows and wizards
In real life, it’s the left side of your face drooping and that saliva starting to spray with the way that it’s dribbling
Mickey Worthless’ scrotum sort of, dangling with a sway and it’s swinging
Laughing it off on the forum, everyone talking, gawking, tapping away with their lovable depraved little digits
Tryna ignore the cold sores in the morning and the, rash across his lips that is breaking and blistering
Cry laugh emoji, winky face throw a gif in
But, if ‘cause of all the chemicals you’re taking in with it
You can laugh off the balls on your face in an instant
Then you just don’t have the balls to face your addiction
Now they say Saint George was Welsh, that’s okay you can have him
You fell off the horse yourself, when you went chasing the dragon
Thanks for the hedgehog picture silly twat
But what you know about cleaning up hedgehog shit, you ain’t live with that
Oh, and Philip’s asked to give ‘em back
Now I know you love your kitty cats but so, why keep ‘em in a dingy flat?
Open the door a little and you think if they ran you’re ever getting little Dickhead and Mittens back?
Nah, Feline Social Services would have them off ya’ hands in a flash
And they ain’t missing dad that, potent whiff of crack that, overpowering rural slash urban half-arsed Welsh inner city swag
So he sits at home, wearing reruns out of Fun House and, licking tabs and, filling pads
But it doesn’t fill his gap he, missed his cats
So, he finds a hurt and abandoned shish kebab
So furry that, well, it had passed and ends up stroking it for six and a half minutes and giving the thing a bath
Salmonella pays rent to, live in back
Bric and brac, heaving living stacks of half-finished raps, motivational posters put up with, molten sticky sap with such slogans written as:
‘Nope not into that’
His kitchen rammed with nutritious snacks
I’m joking, it was Spam
Meth left open in little bags
Floor littered with bits of glass like it was Kristallnacht
Carl your MTV Cribs was wack
I’m finished lad

[Verse 1: Kinell]
Yeah, I heard you get in the bath face first
It’s like an intoxicated otter falling over a waterfall, but way worse
That’d break a normal human’s chin so you couldn’t say words
But Adam has an adamantium jaw, which saves ya’
Ay, remember when you had that battering off Adam Kammerling? Mate, urr
He broke you down on the way you work and the way the music you make’s worse than listening to your parents take turns strangle each other while they’re fucking, using a Norwegian safeword
Probably thought you’d be alright in Brighton, where the streets are ankle-deep in pride flags and gay sperm
Thought you’d hit paydirt but the pay dirt
See that working class rap scene weren’t so welcoming to fake nerds
So you was a parasite hanging out in shitholes, you’re a tapeworm
See you couldn’t get props the way you intended
So your prefect instincts popped into your head and thought you could get marked for consistent attendance
But your music, it’s a failure mate
Minging vaporwave tailor-made for students who live off Koka noodles and Gatorade
Makes normal heads draw for the razorblades
It’s shit people who’ve never done drugs, think drug users love, and I’m here to tell you, I hate it mate
So you made nothing I’m really feeling so you ain’t teaching me shit
You might think you do but it’s only you believing it
And I’ll change ya’ mind in a second, like a DMT hit
‘Cause you got the kind of penmanship more suited to clubs with private membership full of ponces with the types of fetishes where they roleplay characters from Pride and Prejudice
They all got them poncy blue iPhone messages, mine are green, like a lettuce is
Plus you got a nose so wide and hench you could hide an elephant inside the end of it
You own at least five CDs by Type O Negative
You’ve overused the shouting a random sentence thing now
If you want an alternative, silence is good
I know you’re from Brighton and stuff but i won’t try any stuff to imply you’re a poof
Psyche, your favorite rapper is Shia LaBeouf
You be on his Instagram with your cock out, rock hard
10 seconds later, your phone looks like a Pop-Tart
Yeah that’s a joke about wanking, ironically, not hard
See that’s how you get barred from PetSmart
And I can’t show you respect laa
This shit is like a Clipper lighter, if he gassed up he’ll get sparked
And it looks like you’re gonna get this work and it’s obvious to call you a textbook nerd
But you proofread medical journals for a living, you actually are, a textbook nerd
See you’re the type to give people lectures on why Putlocker and ShowBox is evil inventions
Because piracy’s wrong and we need it prevented
While you’re on your 81st free month of Netflix, from different email addresses
Stereotypical twat with the glasses, middle class accent
Daft little bastard in the back of your classes wondering if your Big Yellow Teapot was actually massive and incorrectly quantified on the back of the packet
‘Cause lad, you’re a spastic
Fucking, see it’s Mos Prob, he’s so eager to please ya’
He asks for pineapple underneath of his pizza
Right now you’re dealing with a serious geezer
You can’t act like you’re tearing me apart, like Lisa
See that’s a Room bar
Your rounds meander aimlessly, sucking constantly: that’s a Roomba
Constituent country of the Kingdom of the Netherlands in the southern Caribbean: that’s Aruba
Busta Rhymes’ breakthrough solo single: woo-ha
That’s all true laa
And who’s the biggest dickhead in the room laa? You are
I won’t go after ya’ bird, even though I’m mad and known for that
‘Cause she’s doing the world a favor stopping you dating, ‘cause even you know you’re hopeless lad
You’d be in the club tryna grind teenagers like a ropey twat
When I’m in the club it don’t go like that, I’m not known to dance, I’m too old for that
Catch me having a smoke out back or getting head in the corner like a postage stamp
Yeah, fucking you are terrified of being alone, that’s true innit mate
‘Cause no one would wanna see this wanker lad, you’re Louis C.K
Fucking, invite me to your party and I’ll ruin it mate
I’ll do in an eighth and spew in ya’ face, I’ll leave you truly amazed with my lunatic ways
And I’ll even bring mum jokes to ruin your day
And as for your mum, well I’ll state cold facts
She’s got a labia majora like a cane toad’s back
I’m talking age-old gash with a Day-Glo rash
She tried showing me her tits I’m like ‘ay no thanks, you can take those back’
No shit though, face like an old pitbull
Her arse looks like a charcoal drawing of a smoke signal
Her clit has a lizard face, it’s a salamander bean
She’s either in the traphouse, bagging up the beak
Or pissed and wearing goth shit, shagging in the street
There’s something altogether ooky about Adam’s family
But yeah, someone had to do it and it had to be done
But she’s a hypothetical construct, not your actual mum
And you’re on your retirement run when this battle is ended
In the UK scene it’s a fact you’re a legend with years of matching your pen with the baddest and best
And I’m honestly proud to have this battle suggested moreover still that you were glad to accept it
See I grew out of being that twat in the session who’d have tragedies mentioned for laughs and attention
I’ve avoided anything antisemitic ‘cause I respect you as a man and as a friend but
Obviously I got some nasty shit left so anytime he wants it that twat Frak can get it ‘cause the lad is a bellend
Peace, and your hedgehog’s a dickhead