Red Flag vs. Joey Gambello

[Round 1: Red Flag]
Welp, here you go again, another main stage plate, you better make it count
Opening battle, and the only match up the fans didn’t complain about
You dead
You been spoon-fed, I never had any help
Your win/loss record is like your facial hair, patchy as hell
Every battle he st-stumbles, “Ahhh,” mad at himself
So I ain’t give a fuck when this was locked in like a chastity belt
But since Decade’s the event, I was prepared to accept whatever name that they said
You don’t be talkin’ ‘bout shit up here, just go crazy instead
That deranged face is a waste of the shit you should say with your chest
But thanks for arrangin’ his death, ‘bout time they laid you to rest The only thing poppin’ about you is the veins in your neck
And the ones on your face and your head
This one is a dangerous threat
For real, his doctor explained it to him, you’ve got way too much stress
He’s one haymaker away from his death
He ‘bout to have an aneurysm if he “Say it again!”
So don’t react, please do your part to keep preventin’ that
Doctor’s orders, another temple tap could’ve been his last
Funny how you hate that “lyrical” shit but rap like you on yay
Cause you’re basically an Italian disaster (Dizaster) like Pompeii
When you heat up don’t sound like much to me but yellin’
With those rapid-fire rounds, whatever, Machine Gun Skelly
He run with the Yung Republicans
Yup, they fuck with him, dependin’ on the city y’all in
Classic move, joined a massive group, if he lose, it’s “Shit, we all win.”
Now I ain’t sayin’ you should go and get rid of all them
‘Cause how perfect, poor Joey still livin’ off Friends
You a nobody, homie, you really walkin’ the loneliest road
Joey’s solo career lookin’ kind of like Joey Fatone’s
And you will never make money the way you s’posed to ‘cause yo
It’s still an Everyday Struggle even with Joe on his own
Like when you battled Quest Mcody and couldn’t pass that test, you weren’t built to
They weren’t tryna hear Joe-Joe rappin’, you learned your lesson though, didn’t you?
Could’ve played Frodo Baggins in the rest of those films too
Cause you had no presence in the ring and Quest almost killed you
I put my best foot forward, forfeit or I’m back handin’ you
I got a bigger buzz and better drugs, that’s sad but true
I’m posted up with that white girl, smokin’ Granddaddy too
Purple crystals, and a little Coco on the side like Crash Bandicoot
Wake up, he fake-tough, I can’t stand this dude
Keep that same energy after I hit you like the Black Panther suit
Future champion, crown me, I ain’t have a challenger
You just another square openin’ up a card like an advent calendar

[Round 2: Red Flag]
Question
What the fuck is your name?
Honestly, dog, I’m confused
Joey V, Joey Gambello, he always swaps the two
I guess as long as it sounds Italian, it doesn’t bother you
Tonight it’s Gambello, but Joey V be holdin’ heat, all his guns go “bada-boom”
You like Italian food?
Well, I’ll hock a loog' in your Nonna’s pasta too, toss her pot of soup across the room
This what he don’t want, I’ll fuck Joe up, he’ll get a cold cut; gabagool
I’ll smack a square in the mouth for talkin’ fake smoke, I’m droppin’ Juuls (jewels)
Slow down
You don’t have to rap as fast as you talk, my dude
If you listen to 'Rap God' after he rocks a room, it’ll sound like that track got chopped and screwed
Now, he might not win, but his shit is mad complex
Hold up, the Knife Bar King still ain’t stabbed you yet?
Bigga knife
I'll catch him slippin’, you think I’m sparin’ who’s with him? Hardly
Zip ‘em up, a ginger baggin’ two bitches; Archie
I’ll sneak up while he’s sleepin’ at his slumber party
And jam the point down, this mark’ll bleed through the sheets like a Sharpie
Now, I don’t do a ton of gun bars, but I done watched a lot of them MCU films this summer
You seem to like ‘em more, Iron Man fightin’ Thor, pull out the hammer and I’ma steal your thunder
A Glock’ll bang, cock and aim, his top get grazed, leave his mind deranged
Turn his world upside down, the diagnosis make him look at his Doctor Strange
You be at the firin’ range, you aimin’ a Glock, then it’s for fun
That’s a prop, but live it up
You more of a Family Guy, like Joe’s wife, the always pregnant one
In that bar I meant his gun
Cause that bitch with Joe always looks like it’s ‘bout to pop but never does
So a sledgehammer leave his legs fractured, I ain’t checkin’ his reflex, his bones break
Now both bent the wrong way, weird flex, but okay
You so lame
In the ring you be crack-whippin’ and pack-flippin’, or just spittin’ the gift of gab to some bad bitches, shit
That shit is lit, but it’s sad, isn’t it?
In real life you weak, the worst type of sweet, black licorice
This ass-whippin’ is past due for you thinkin’ you a star
Pretendin’ your checks and opportunities are bigger than they are
I was a fan first, now I’m catchin’ bodies in this field, they’ll have to Capture The Flag to stop me
Had somethin’ up the sleeve before I started cookin’ like your grandmother’s manicotti
When Saurus and Illmac were back-to-back champions, Flag was watchin'
So I got two times your Arsonal like back when he battled Shotty
And salute to I.C.E, Pat, and Charron too, I’m happy to have a hobby
Where in my spare time I rap with half of the cast of Bodied

[Round 3: Red Flag]
If y’all ain’t know, I’m undefeated and maybe the best in this up-and-comin’ class
But after this, you’ll be sayin’ I lost...
My cool and fuckin’ snuffed his ass
So don’t start, I got a cold heart, stoppin’ one’s the last time that I felt joy
Call me Guillermo del Toro, I brought a Blade 2 (to) give you Hellboy
You battlin’ Red Flag, you really accepted this match? You trippin’
Dermatology prescription, this was a rash decision
I ain’t come to have a classic with him
You lost 2-1 in your battle with... crack addiction
Oh, you don’t be smokin’ crack? My bad
Well, whatever the fuck it is that makes you rap like that
This is so typical, ain’t it?
Another last-minute replacement for minimal payment
But don’t get mad at me, Joey V, I’m just tryna give you the large picture
Presto Reload Machine, you always broke, and you a card-filler
Rottweiler, dog filter, Geico, Godzilla
And the new champ already called me out, don’t you think I forgot, Chilla
Nah, fuck that
I’ll put a metal revolver on V like a hubcap
Dump that, I will do dirt on him like mud flaps
If a gun claps, he’ll run laps or get his front split like a blunt wrap
I’ll get rid of him like the Sopranos, I bet he love that
A snitch’s body wrapped in a carpet, that’s a rugrat
You done, scrap
Or should you rather go like Stringer from The Wire?
No witnesses, if anybody near him, then they dyin’
Cause all of ‘em’ll snitch for any reason, and they liars
Whole group full of singers, bitch, I’m preachin’ to the choir
It’ll be mad caskets, black jackets, you and your mans matchin’
Nice, all in the same suit like a class action
The only chrome Krome owns is the one that connects to the net
Trevy’s Machete’s the one DNA “sprays” at every event
And don’t think I forgot ‘bout your bottom tier, ‘cause Peppe is dead
I’ll stomp him out, you know, put a little Pep in my step
I got another strap that’s like bubble wrap, I’ll always be down to pop it
That joint be actin’ up, I click it, my shoulder rips out its socket
Got that and a new clip, I’ll let it go in your housing project
It’s got a kangaroo kick if Joey get out of pocket
Nah, I’m off it, ‘less you run your lip
Truthfully, I fuck with him
And this was on my bucket list, so now we gettin’ drunk as shit