[Round 1: Padma Lakshmi]

I was thrilled to do this show, but a bit resistant

They told me I was battling Simon Cowell's assistant

Third on the panel, but you got no love

They said, "Eliminate Randy," and you were a judge

You produced America's Best Dance Crew

Just so someone would finally dance with you

You worked with George Michael and Madonna at their best

But you'll just be known for shadowing Seacrest

[Round 1: Randy Jackson]

If your disses made sense, they would hurt

They're as confusing as a model becoming a food expert

You release cookbooks, a bestselling author

She's a "Top Chef" the way Dr. Dre's a doctor

Heard you won an Emmy, is that really true?

What's it for, besides standing by some food?

Released your own rice, that's alarming

I wouldn't eat your food if my black ass was starving

[Round 2: Padma Lakshmi]

Yeah, we won an Emmy, no need to be rude

And no way Randy Jackson ever passed up some food

Like the polar ice caps, there's less of you every day

Keep losing weight, I hope you fade away

Get credit as a judge for your incredible picks

But for every Kelly Clarkson, there were four Taylor Hicks

No, I'm not a chef, but I get paid this much

When you look like Urkel, who got fucked by Jabba the Hutt

[Round 2: Randy Jackson]

You could find Ratatouille, I still wouldn't care

Someone find Gordon Ramsay, you're a kitchen nightmare

Though there's way too much spice on your plate

You rely on curry even more than Golden State

You speak five languages and had me stunned

I read your memoir, you had trouble with one

You dig older men, Salman Rushdie

You like your husbands like Parmesan cheese, old and crusty?

[Round 3: Padma Lakshmi]

You were a solo artist, that lasted three months

Like a child's car seat, you don't belong up front

I'm on the cover of Vogue, you're on the cover of "Vague"

You're on the side of the road, begging for some change

You got just two friends and they both married you

You toured with Mariah, Mariah carried you

Ah, head so bright you lift ships through the fog

I've heard your rap [style?], well, it was a little pitchy, dawg

[Round 3: Randy Jackson]

Yo, Padma, you're actin' way too saucy

Coming off like your recipes, way too salty

I'm stuck in this battle, wish I had another option

She's a Kardashian Kris put up for adoption

She made her career of having a look

And wouldn't have a gig if Cindy Crawford could cook

I was told that Padma would slay me all along

But looking at it now, y'all, that's gonna be a damn no from me, dawg