[Round 1: Heretic]

Welcome to the U.K., man! This is so great!

You know what?

‘Cause, last year, you got booked, and we all wish you could’ve came and showed up

But then your battle got cancelled, and it was such a shame, and so long

But now you’ve finally found the perfect moment to come and build your name on Don’t Fl-

This is a terrible waste of your time!

It’s bad form to take

Your performance is going under like a trapdoor escape

Got me feeling like I’m a hangman, and you’re the man brought to slay

‘Cause you came here to die as soon as they take the platform away!

Now, I don’t think all forms of rap have to be extra “meaningful”

But you rap about shooting people and getting laid

You guys can decide which one of those is less believable

‘Cause let’s not lie

Your voice does not suit the persona you project online

‘Cause you got them “the lead pop, the headshot, get dropped” rhymes

With the voice of every kid who calls me “n***er” on XBOX Live!

Look, I’m sure you feel real clever when you snipe a noob with your laser attachment

And just about swallow your mouthful of Cheetos in time to say he’s a faggot

But you get so caught up in that persona, it doesn’t translate when you’re rappin’

Desmond Miles: without the computer, you can’t play the assassin!

And I’ve seen you preaching Christianity, like that’s deep and profound

So if you try and claim King, you’ll have to bleed for the crown

You’re from middle America, Christianity’s the only belief in your town

He’s like, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

Jesus was brown!

You’re on your way to death in Britain

It’s not the safest expedition

Just ‘cause you’re a SMACK rapper on the stage, with less conviction

That pudgy face ain’t benefitin’ you going on a date with any women

But you’ve got a gun so BIG...it’s remarkably effective as an overcompensating mechanism

You’re from Manchester...in Connecticut

Your country is too unimaginative to name a few buildings

Your state has a Bristol, Essex, Derby, Reading, where nobody has come through spittin’

Our Manchester alone just bought out Bobby Rex, and that dude’s winnin’

So all your knockoff cities don’t mean shit next to this new England!

[Round 1: E. Farrell]

YO!

Yo, before I spit these rounds I wrote for Dank, and Take Note Tox

Just know defeat stinks, like some sweat-stained old socks

Plus, this clown’s been thirsty, so I brought a Faygo pop

And enough stupid punchlines to fucking save Don’t Flop!

You look like you hit gay clubs

I go straight to the bars

This is mismatched, like Asians and cars

Teletubbies baby, how the kid facin’ a star

And I’ve been killing these jokes, like that one friend who always takes it too far

But you ain’t got buds

Nah, you’re just some sheik in a jar

And always need a safe space

What, you vacant on Mars?

I’ll smack your face, and have your trachea scarred

With a hand to the neck while striking cords, like I was playing guitar

You fucking NEET!

I’m mad we had to have this battle announced

I’d snap in your house for cheese, without trapping a mouse

Your first international bout? Madness, fam!

After this, you won’t be tweeting how we really need to pass a travel ban

You’re so edgy, bro! Why prove your pen?

Mr. “Eurgh Blocked Me on Twitter, LOL, I’m Cool Again!”

The two-years-ago newcomer, top of the list

At this point, the only big push you’ve earned is straight off of a cliff, into a bottomless pit

Your style? Not a fan of it

Annoying, like an occupied toilet: I can’t stand the shit!

Man, I’ll flip and crop your frame, Instagram it, pick so clans will hit

Turn this hairy pussy into nothing but a landing strip!

Yo, I’m comfy in yo’ country, smokin’ long bats, and coolin’

Soaking up the sights like contact solution

I said, but recognize hella times you’re dropping classics, son

You’d think my job was making charts about cars, from all the autographs I’ve done!

I said, your girl seen me in the club, and stared for two straight minutes

She said, “Let’s fuck”

I read the lips: no Kool-Aid sippin’

I had that bird on my top like a Blue Jays fitted

Lovin’ the bellend, like when a school’s day finished

That’s a dickhead, for my people watchin’ this at home

I was doggin’ it, call her, and she coughin’ up the bone

Just so I can tell you all of this, jotted in my poems

And have a body set in stone like a monument in Rome

My team deep!

Clean sweep, now they breakin’ out the broom

Got this hippie trippin’ badly, like he ate too many shrooms

I’ll be the greatest from the cradle to the tomb

So if the good die young, I’m surprised I even made it out the womb!

“I should have been miscarried, Harry,” is what I’m trying to say

And I guarantee you’ll never hear that in a flyer way

Time!

[Round 2: Heretic + E. Farrell]

So you’re mates with all the Young Republicans, right?

Facts of life!

A bunch of Trump supporters who like rapping and stuff

Their sole entry requirement is thinking every other man is a cuck

But we got Young Conservatives in the U.K., too, bro!

They just exchange [?] for Trump

And get beat up on uni campuses for being absolute cunts!

So I’m here to be everything you hate

Better act right, gangster

‘Cause I got a hemp, handmade Che Guevara T-shirt

You can’t match my swagger

I’ll get him on cam with a Confederate flag, and he’ll get chastised after

And march under a hammer and sickle banner, screaming, “BLACK LIVES MATTER!”

I don’t care if you got no respect for that

‘Cause your statues are gettin’ dragged from their cenotaphs

We fight what’s oppressive, the message is that when we rap

But you write off the premise

Like how, with reggae music, the inventors black

But Whites got the credit, ‘cause they wanna hear Eric clapped!

And I shot the sheriff!

So those two-bar punches, yeah, I know how to use them

I just take the bread for the body like a Holy Communion

It’s either that, or an angle, ‘til my opponents are losin’

I put marks in a state like the Soviet Union!

I don’t give a fuck how you build them schemes

Or if they think punching back-to-back makes you a real MC

I do what I need to do just to kill them clean

My voice means deaths on cam like the Wilhelm Scream!

You always have a whole team of hype men getting aggie

That’s trash!

You roll up in a vehicle full of tools like a handyman’s van

You battle 5-on-1, but however crafty that plan

It’s like South Park, ‘cause Eric still loses in a handicap match!

He says some shit about guns, and then he hypes the crowd

Well, I’ll just ruin your self-esteem twenty times around

Bar one, I’ve got wins every time I’m out

And I got bodies in the pipeline like Pennywise the Clown!

I handed a breakdown to Soweto, and singed Kid Verbal as well

It’s too easy, saying you never did dirt, I can tell

It’s like Dante’s Inferno: that burning you smell?

You wanted Heretic in the pit, and you got the Sixth Circle of Hell!

[Round 2: E. Farrell]

Hold it down

This shit’s, like, racist as fuck, so, uh…

I don’t care if you’re Heretic

Today, you’re Heretic

If I had to guess the type of bug that’s in your hair…(a tick!)

This made me throw my pen and nearly quit

You’d swore I picked the language the Quran was written in

I chose to air a Bic!

(Bic is a type of pen

He likes that one!)

I’m VERY sick, bruv! You just got a light flu

Which is awesome, ‘cause I’mma bring the coffin right through

If beating me is what you thought you might do

It’s probably like you a less common diabetic: not the type to!

That’s awful, right!? Well, let me offer a light course

‘Cause I never didn’t have the option to write forced

I’m not saying, “Have a wank to a farm animal under the influence of cannabis,” BUT…

Get off from the high horse!

Have you ever seen-

I said, I’m talking it nice! Supplyin’ the demand

You a hippie gypsy, sleeping by a fire in a van

I should dump the fucking 9 until it jam

Pillsbury Doughboy: I’ll put this flower child on the can!

For bands, I’m hands-on, might start a push pit

Spend a rack on a jacket, so they call me “Hood Rich”

Stan Lee: I’ll make this comic book quick

Then steel-toe boot his ass, and let him really feel my carbon footprint!

Trigger words, now he bugging and nervous

Greenhouse effect: I see you heating up on the surface

‘Bout to mention...fucking feminism, gender privilege like the cause is greater

Claiming that we wouldn’t treat the Earth so bad, if we had called it, “Father Nature”

Wow! We get it, bro! You fucking passed a science class!

And don’t use butane lighters ‘cause it’s an unnatural kind of gas

I offered bro to hit the bong last night, his ass declined it fast

And said, “Let’s wait ‘til morning, dude! I brought my magnifying glass!”

I bet you get sad inside seeing a patch of dried-up grass

And pour your 40 for the forest every time you have to wipe your ass

I know this angle has been overused, and facts, it might be trash

But recycling’s eco-friendly, and for that, I’d like a pass!

Plus, that animal rights shit is rightfully a hoax

‘Cause on some rap shit, you stole Shuffle’s style when he jokes

Danny’s swag, Tony’s skin tone, and you try to drink like Osh’

So how the fuck are you a vegan!? You been biting all the GOATs!

I understand your case to stop the planet’s waste

But quit demanding plates in Canada, just ‘cause you heard they’re Organik-based

Next time you choose to beef with me, you gon’ be sick

In the meantime, fuck off, and eat a gluten-free dick!

[Round 3: Heretic + E. Farrell]

I remember when you did that battle dressed as Superman

That was some shit from the edges of space

'Cause you were wearing an inflatable six-pack, and still looked in terrible shape

Facts!

You can't be Superman with chronic acne

I guess you are like Clark Kent in a way

'Cause no one's gonna think you're a hero with those specks on your face

Look, I knew you were gonna come to rap about the British regime, biscuits and tea

'Cause your most popular battle had such a gimmicky theme

But then your views went right back down just as quick as can be

After playing Superman, you fell off harder than Christopher Reeve!

But it was GREAT!

'Cause you got the crowd going with the flow that you served 'em

Transformed in Superman like a whole different person

You went for that costume change, and had people hopelessly searchin'

Like, "It's a bird, it's a plane...oh, no, it's a virgin."

'Cause you said you're “bread pussy like a yeast infection”

Bread...bread pussy like a yeast infection...

That was so bad

I don't know if you've ever made bread before

It’s not how I’d suggest that you try it, though

And I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a vagina before

But they tend not to come with a slice of toast

Look, I don’t want to put you off

I know that it’d appeal to you more if it were like an edible staple

I just don’t want you getting confused when your grandma’s crusty bread gets left on the table

I don’t blame you

Sometimes, having a poor life perspective is fatal

It’s an easy mistake to make when you’ve only ever had sex with a bagel

That’s so stupid

So, just to let you know, a yeast infection is, like, one of those horrible illnesses

And getting “the clap” is definitely not what you think it is!

You’ve got a lot to learn, Eric

Even your slogan isn’t pushing a better image

Like, “You can’t spell ‘America’ without putting that Eric in it!”

Well, your hype men are shit

You only sound good when you get assistance

So you can’t spell “hysterical bellends” without putting that Eric in it!

You’re a carbon-copy Smack rapper who’s only cooking with extra gimmicks

And that’s why you can’t spell “generic”...’cause you’re American, and you’re stupid!

[Round 3: E. Farrell]

They say battle rap these days is loaded with antics

Broken and bandaged, bad, beyond totally damaged

But I see and know the advantage

Where else in public can I scream out, “I HAVE A GUN!”...and nobody panics!?

I don’t have a gun...

I’m the type to fire off and smile, dawg: I’m trigger-happy

Quick, and gladly handle beef like Spongebob when he flippin’ patties

Slush Pup, the young buck who is dickin’ Lassie

Bitch, it ain’t a game

I been a troublemaker way before Milton Bradley

As a kid, I had it rough, though, bro

Played with guns

But felt powerless amongst that group of misfits: Nathan Young

Great show

That’s the only British reference…

So, for this next of segments, I don’t want respect or credit

‘Cause my life is like a buzz-cut

It’s safe to say you’ll never get it

What you know about growing up, driving in the streets

Not having enough pennies with Abraham Lincoln’s face on them to go another mile in your Jeep?

That real struggle, every night you felt so weak

Not getting likes in British battle forums, ‘cause all them were trying to go to sleep

You know NOTHING about crying in your sheets

Wanting to turn your thermostat up a couple Fahrenheit, but couldn’t reach

Problems flying through your mind, you would just weep

It’s like I brought a thousand watches on a mountaintop

The times were getting piqued!

So push my buttons like a screenshot, and save the conversation

Man, I got these hands on lock, like continents with combo-nations

Try and rock me, they gon’ lock me up for dropping your health

‘Cause I won’t take a sock from Harry: I ain’t Dobby the Elf!

I don’t need to buck shots or dump rockets

Son, watch me get up on my Scoop shit for one topic

‘Cause man like E. will take the iPhone X out your front pocket

Then follow you home, just to cut your fucking face off and unlock it!

(SCOOOOOOOP!)

I thought y’all were booing me!

I needed Scoop to push me…

Say, yo!

I keep it freezer-fresh now, and I’m scannin’ it

And have his boat on ice damaged like man was in the Titanic ship

And if you come back with your crew, I’ll let a clip off, blam

I’m blastin’ Heretic an’ them like a Slipknot fan

I’m sonning him with presence more than Santa Claus’ mother

And popping off while I’m cooking, like a pan of hot butter

Just to reach my prime, you gon’ need Amazon numbers

And a pic of John Cena in a camouflage jumper!

I’ll believe it when I see it, and today, I did not

You basically got served to have to pay for this shot

Start saving your top excuses, and wait for the drop

‘Cause, like paving a spot to park, you gon’ be making a lot!

Let’s go, man!