Battle Cry - Joell Ortiz, Just Blaze

How many times I gotta tell y’all I’m second to none?

No magazine’s top ten cause I’m negative one

So I don’t pay attention to them dumb folk

Cause I’mma always be in first like the clutch broke

I’m from where the cut-throats cut coke

Cause school ain’t cut it, they cut out to puff smoke

And guess what?

That’s who I hang with

So when you speak Industry, I don’t know the language

But play a beat and I’ll show you why I’m head honcho

Y’all gettin' away with murder like the white Bronco

Bunch of trash in-between hooks

Bars too cute to be gettin' all these mean looks

Put the hottest rappers all on one stage together

See who’ll hold they arm up like Che Guevera

I rhyme hotter and I say it better

I’mma win the Cold War: I’mma product of the Reagan Era

Dave Dinkins of the page inkin''

My 16s free y’all, I’m Hip-Hop's Abe Lincoln

Fam I don’t know what they thinkin'

These niggas got me fucked up like I spent all day drinkin'

I’m a boss, not a loss yet

You’re little lemons in a race with a souped-up Corvette

I’m so hot I could stand still and pour sweat

In the North Pole, fully naked with my balls wet

I’m a monster — these other niggas small pets

Claim they sick, but they get cured by your dog’s vet

I’m thorough from my Yank' to my Gore-Tex

You’re bluffin', I play poker — I’m callin' all bets

Local boy, when’s the last time you all left?

I don’t even know where the fuck I’m goin' on tour next

Last month Canada, before that?

Europe

I had waffles out in Belguim, you ain’t had syrup

Every time I write, it’s another flight

Another whore with my kids on her underbite

Another «YAOWA!»

I chant when I touch the mic

Another magazine spread, yeah you fuckin' right

I’m on my grind like a pair of in-line skates

Get on tracks and go bananas like a primate

Baboon, gorilla, chimpanzee, a wild ape

King Kong when he escape, I’m 'bout to skyscrape

But the sky ain’t the limit

I could teleport through my mind any minute

Take you to a place where the lions go «ribbit»

All the frogs «roar» and the fire is frigid

I’m outta this world, don’t belong here

What good is heiring the throne if I taught you from a small chair?

Family, you niggas got it twisted

Flow out of the box, yours chicken and a biscuit

Give me Chicken Pox when I listen, I be itchin'

To cripple your career like a ligament is missin'

Dawg I’m on a mission like an intimate position

When I swing it’s knockouts I ain’t gettin' a decision

From here on, it’s locked: y’all a prisoner to spittin'

Can’t escape my bars: no visitors permitted

Welcome to Hell where Joell holds a pitchfork

And you burn in eternal flames for your bitch-talk

Dick in my hand: I’m pissed off

But I ain’t bucklin', everyday I’m hustlin': Rick Ross

One day the whole globe will know that I’m Clark Kent

Underneath the shades on a project park bench

Superman when I grip the mic

The only way I’m slowin' down is if I blow a pound of Kryptonite

From now on I’m a bully, I’mma pick the fight

Let them pick you up off the ground when I chip ya bite

You’ll become a little memory: gigabyte

Me and these beats got married, I’m Mr. Right

Little man, you spit it aight

I’m on fire, you got a little buzz: Miller Lite

Man there’s so many words runnin' 'round my brain

If I don’t put them on a track I would go insane

Maybe that’s why everything I say is crazy

And everyday I wake up, with a naked lady

With a V.I.P.

band on my right wrist

Pants on the floor, J.D. with a slight sip left in the bottle

'Telly key on the nightstand

I go to the bathroom to pee, and then I scram

I live the life of a rock star

They ain’t wanna let me through, so I became a cop car

Put the sirens on every time I touch a pen

Everybody move like dope: that’s a fuckin' '10'

My peers know I’m gonna win

This music’s like my first crush, for years I wanted in

I’m here.

Oh boy will you taste the wrath

I’mma make it ugly like what’s underneath Jason’s mask

I listen to a lot of mixtapes and laugh

All y’all niggas do is whine like Jamaican ass

Every night I celebrate, we take a glass of champagne to the brain

Sometimes we take a bath

Victory feels far better

Than defeat;

you niggas weak: Solar’s Letter

I’m harder than the Fonz' leather

My worst rhyme’s 30 times rougher than your hottest bars ever

I could front like a car fender

Cause everything I’m on, DJs pull up like the bartenders

New York I’m the answer to your prayers

Head-nod music, leave the dancin' over there

Project shit, ain’t no mansion over here

Just murder on the strings, Charles Manson on the snare

I’m hungry;

the game’s like a food court

I just gave y’all a loose hundred: Newports

Chea

Joell Ortiz

Who feel they, who feel they better?