(Esoteric Talking)
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I know you didn't just open your mouth....
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I know of all people, the lowest of the low... I see your tail waggin', dog
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[Verse 1]
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Copywrite, you don't wanna fight, this here's a mic
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Let me show your bitch ass how to rock it right
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Let's begin, I know you saw my battle with Jin
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That's why you ran like the wind and jumped out of your skin
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You weren't sayin' "Fuck Soundcheck"
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You was sayin' "fuck the whole set! Cage, c'mon, dawg, we gotta jet!"
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Now it's on, don't ever mention 'Lo in your songs
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(Why?) cause even Thirstin know you still live with your moms
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In the stix where hoes don't even shave
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Folks don't even bathe and roads ain't even paved
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Hillbilly Pete tryin' to keep it street, but you nerdy
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Actin' 730 when you Powerbar Ernie
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Whiteboy sayin' "nigga" sounds sick
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When the only black in you be Camel Tao's dick
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You a grown man with no plans
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And still callin' up college radio requestin' your own jams
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("Ayo, I'm tryin' to blow up!") but you're way off course
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Cause The Source doesn't cover ciphers in Short North, motherfucka
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[Chorus]
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You a battle MC? You ain't battle Shay
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We called you out in NYC, you ran away
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Drop the mic, find another cat to bite
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You ain't tight, cause all you do is COPY (riiight?)
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[Esoteric Talking]
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Hahah, don't worry about Landspeed payin' me...Worry about why they rejected
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your whole album... and sent E.C. packin' based on your bullshit..
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[Verse 2]
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You made a second jam and still you couldn't get it right
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Gettin' out of bed at night and checkin' my website
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Usin' a dead mic, jackin' other cats' beats
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Cause y'all producers are weak and wouldn't co-sign the beef
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Usin' that beat like you a fan of The Lox
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You handlin' glocks? This is where the fantasy stops
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What, you thought I forgot you run with Cannibal Ox?
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("I can't even watch!") you scared to bust like amateur cops
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Flip Dog from "Whiteboys", mocked Danny Hoch
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Ernest goes to Brooklyn and gets his little chain tooken
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How you lookin' in them dirty ass Nikes
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With a 15 year old chicken head you callin' wifey?
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Pencil-neck, in an Avirex from your moms
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You in your mid-20's hittin' up junior proms
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You abused your creative control
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Spittin' punchlines so corny they should come with a drum roll
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Holla at Skillz about a purchase
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Your writing's worthless, recycling wack verses
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And that shit is unoriginal and sloppy
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But what do I expect from a cat named Copy?
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[Chorus]
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You a battle MC? You ain't battle Shay
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We called you out in NYC, you ran away
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Drop the mic, find another cat to bite
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You ain't tight, cause all you do is COPY (riiight?)
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[Esoteric Talkin]
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Yo, that was your girl? I thought that was your little sister, dog. The big
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field trip to N-Y, after y'all skated after 9-11. Punk motherfuckers
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[Verse 3]
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You went from ridin' Cage's nuts to sayin' "Cage is nuts
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He's a shady fuck, let him get stomped, I hate his guts!"
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And plus, you admitted you was glad you left
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And not seein' him get beat was your only regret
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If that takes the cake then this here's the frosting
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Y'all were fightin' over the same chick from Boston
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Cage hit the showers, bow to these powers
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Call BK back, tell 'em you need hours
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You should've left "Haterama" on the net
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I said "fuck a reply", but you wouldn't let it die
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(The illest four letter word in the world is) AIDS
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Just cause you got it don't mean you can change its name to Cage
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"Speaking Real Words" with Deck, you keep sweating
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But your label paid for more guests than a Greek wedding
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Copy, your state should be embarassed of you
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See that battle shit you talk about, I actually do
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[Chorus]
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You a battle MC? You ain't battle Shay
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We called you out in NYC, you ran away
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Drop the mic, find another cat to bite
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You ain't tight, cause all you do is COPY (riiight?)
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[Esoteric Talkin]
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Huh... Copybite... Now you go home... write as many raps as you want...
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but you can't turn back time
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| Face the facts... you bounced on your motherfuckin' man... left him |
