Bender vs Scott Free

[Round 1: Bender]
Can you believe this sh*t?
He killed Chris Tipsy and absorbed his powers
It's like Highlander but for Squeegee kids
Now everything around me cash rules
So it's funny you go by Scott Free when Ottawa sent me here to tax you
Cause even if you copied from Mobb Deep or Wu
Scott Free, you would probably get boo'ed off
And moose jawed then bodied, ya too soft
I said, "Scotty throw a punch." Stupid [?] went and tossed me a juice box
A decade deep in this rap sh*t I'm still heartless
It's gon' be my face on the Wheaties box, his ugly mug on a milk carton
And I know your parents are hopin' for a daughter
They should've called up Henry Morgentaler, look him up he's an abortion doctor
Got lines perfected, dumb sh*t my style's the freshest
So try to son me I treat you like Eric and Lyle Menendez
Get iced and deaded like cryogenics
Outshine my presence?
You have a better shot at George Bush's sign confession to 9/11
Scott Free, you make John Cena sound like Sean P
You're a back up dancer like 'Pac was for Shock G
And y'all need to cop Bad Information, that's my new record
Scott here fit three di*ks in his mouth at once last night, that's his new record

[Round 1: Scott Free]
Now before Loe told me about Flight Distance, I'd never heard of y'all
That's cause your bars are as real as Decipher's murder charge
So I came to run game on a flabby bast*rd
Like Wayne Campbell I've waited to slay a Stratocaster
See I throw jabs at battle rappers, I'm lookin' at you like "let's brawl"
Stick Stratocaster with a Gibson, I'll smash you with a Les Paul
Yes dawg, I've seen your battle with Baracuda, you were kinda nice
But your style is like Kimbo's wife; Vagina Slice
And you almost 30 aight, so how are you such a nube?
You called Baracuda "grandpa" and he's two years younger than you
Then you said you out for cheesecake and couldn't put it better
Cause this belly says you out to be a sugar cookie getter
Now without a beat or a DJ, I'd bang in both your ears
You look so much like Philly Freeway I'm 'bout to Cassidy your career
Cause that bushwa hood pass revoke sh*t would've been a slick diss
If the squid milker had a hood pass to begin with
So you don't end dreams like alarm clocks, it's clear that dude's frontin'
You so easy to sleep through you more like the snooze button

[Round 2: Bender]
Now I hope your son never sees this footage cause I'd feel kinda bad
Cause he'd be like, "Why did dad spend the little time we had with his writing pad
Then when it came time to actually battle he rapped like a giant fag. It's kinda sad."
Now I told El Pesci-denti to bring me a hard rock, got me a stepping stone
A candy raving grease pencil with cold sweats off of methadone
A sex degenerate that can't support his family how he should
Scott's no mechanic but he's been known to pull a tranny out the hood
And if your lady needs to pay her way through college
My man there rhymin' might just put her on her knees like she payin' homage
And if she's scantily clad like Lady Gaga ya baby mama's face gon' feel it trickle down like Reganomics
Is that goin' over ya head? You play fight with ya rivals
I open sold out events and give stage freight to ya idols
This blood clot chump lost is the jumpoff
This is like shootin' fish in a barrel with a barrel full of buckshot
Yeah I know in the last battle Baracuda fish wasn't perfect, but at least he put a fight up
This fool is spittin' some nerd sh*t
The way I own this man, it's like the feudal system's resurfaced
And you call yourself Free, isn't that just a euphemism for worthless?

[Round 2: Scott Free]
I got a family and a mortgage, I almost forgot dude thanks
You're just p*ssed cause you're like 30, live alone and shoot blanks
See that first spit was tired, Loe said you had talent
But I'll smack Earth, Wind & Fire out this bootleg Kap Kallous
Like, why are you still at it? Don't you think you should roll off before I turn that big cabbage to a grande cold slaw
Cause good Lord you're not ill, your lame flows are too basic
You wouldn't get a deal on a game show full of suitcases
True statement, none of us like your sloppy raps
You're the only one that thinks you're ill you hypocondriac
See I get type vicious start kickin' up some dust for Flight Distance
You lucky you get a ticket on the bus
You make the mistake of thinkin' Scott Free's a rookie once
I'm a douche bag, I came to clean this pus*y up
I've dropped a lot of flows since I had a snotty nose
Your ass gon' feel this sh*t like the toilet's occupato and you gotta go
My shows electric as Hendrix and you know what happened after
Cause I don't just bend her (Bender) I smash a Stratocaster
Douse it in gasoline and flick matches at the bast*rd

[Round 3: Bender]
Now he's just bummed out cause his woman looks like me with crooked teeth and Hook Disease
Wouldn't even cook or clean, which one of you's got the pus*y, Free?
You're womanly, sugary, shook, you catch feelings
I right hook ya jaw so hard the back row can catch fillings
See I'm a grimy type of bast*rd
f*ck a sucka punch I can slap ya lights out like The Clapper
My one liners are like gun fire, burn from a burst of ammo
He went from a nerd in dirty flannel shirts and sandals
To a herbish as*h*le purchasin' urban camo'
Where the f*ck did you learn to battle?
Yo, you baring witness to some scary business
I'll take a pair of scissors into this parasitic fairly where to stick
You beatin' me? It's like Hare Krishna's wishin' Merry Christmas
I'd feel guilty
This sh*t's like cherry pickin' in the paralympics
And he might get on the gangsta tip cause he's drank a bit
But he ain't shankin' sh*t
He only gets violent when he spanks his kids
Can't hang with this
Motherf*cker I go deep
So Scott, your name's the only thing here that ends with "OT"
So how you gonna rock with me?
You make [?] look like a striker from the Rock Machine
Go p*ss up a rope, you see what happens when you push me?
I got a C-section philosphy
That means I'm not goin' out a pus*y

[Round 3: Scott Free]
You just keep talkin' 'bout winnin' see I thought respect was more important
But who would've known that Al Borland was such a poor sportsman?
So I'm not here cause I think you've got cool rhymes you poser
I'm just surprised I thought you died when Tool Time was over
But see, I'm a savage cat with battle raps for Stratocaster
To keep the French cats in the back snappin' like [?]
Matter of fact, I'm here for slicin' throats kid
Ya get ya head chopped, I bet that beard is hiding more Chins than a sweatshop
You bet not claim to hustle hard cause you not a boss b*tch
You roll with a smaller stash than Hitler's top lip
So pop sh*t, talk slick or gossip, get caught quick, get socked in the jaw like a hostage
That's it, your style is the wackest, you're a horrible rapper
Like Brad Pitt's Italian accent in Inglorious bast*rds
So I will stare you, straight in the face as I prepare to
Carlton Fisk your f*ckin' head like the Bear Jew
I dare you, to come from the nations capitol in order for me to beat ya
This chicken came with corny raps, yo Loe you ordered me fajitas
Bring any phony dude from your staff or pretenders to the f*ckin' brawl
And I'll get both you boobs mashed together; Wonder Bra
You such a b*tch son, now put your fuzzy chin up on my balls
So I don't need to hit the strip club to get my di*k sucked in Montreal