Blaze Battle 6.x

I know you bitche$ missed me while I was rollin wit my midget

Little Zoe had a fever but she still cute as Gidget

Course when Mama Doc's around the temp always be risin

That the Ice don't melt is the only thing surprisin

Now I'm down DC way in my fly black suit

It gives a great view of the Doc from front to glute

I'm savin lives wit my science, and slayin suckas on the run

Tonight all the finest playas gonna be callin 911...

Ice, forgive my temerity but I think you've exceeded your capacity
for coming up with rhymes that amuse or engage me
You say you high quality but I just don't see
it from these day-old, dusted-off lyrics you passin off to me

You always tryin' to front like my $hit ain't tight
but you more like Rev. Spooner, $hittin like my front ain't tight--it ain't right
especially when from front to behind the sight
of my curves carvin out swerves with my bike
cause even polite playas to lose they nerve
and just keep clockin me when they should be rockin
with me, the finest cyclin MC, the one they call Queen B

Boy, you tellin me your Heat feel twice as nice as Ice
You sure? You ain't just some second- or third-rate Bo Bice
outta place on the mic?
Then I say bring it -- it ain't no vice to roll the dice
when the prize is knockin B Gears off her bike
even though you gonna lose, you can dream all you like
Or maybe, just to be nice, while I'm catchin my breath you can hype--nothin more, cuz your rhymes is weak
don't try to serve me unless we on bikes and you my domestique
Those offers may seem meek but it's the best I can do now you hit your peak
Otherwise, son, I'm afraid your future's bleak

Blaze Battle 6.x

First of all, let me say yo rappin ain't even defensible
that clap-trappin leave me laughin as you "Say Wot" like Captain Sensible
think I'll call you in for blaze battle perjury
while they they subpoena me for my role in lyrical murder, G

Gonna take an army of lawyers to hold back this B killer
not to mention the voyeurs who watch as I spill iller
which, compared to you ain't a real tough beat
yo style so old it's classic - I may as well be listenin to Little Feat

If you don't like the Ice than take some a my heat
I got enough to melt the leatha off ya seat
'cept it ain't leather, it's vinyl
Ice be slammin the lid on this beat box, it's final

Blaze Battle 6.x

Yo Ice, didja miss me?
I'm back in black like AC/DC
I got nine lives, cat's eyes, don't act like you don't see me
crossin your path to take my place at the mic
and remind sucka cyclin' MCs to get off a they bikes

And bow down to me, put the Q to the B
cause it's plain to see that I'm a rapper supreme
and from the sky to the sea I rock the bike like a dream
Some call me Britney Gears, but you best call me Queen

It was the nature of Latifah to move on to Chicago
But don't bother reachin for the mic cause I'm already here, yo
tearin' up every gear with shifters from Shimano
ridin' so fast that drivers be callin the po-po

Queen Becktifah in the house rulin all that she see
Best get down on your knees and recognize me
Only place for Ice is on my tiara from Tiffany
Or the valve caps I rock on my Cross Wolf 700x32C

Ice, you think I can't write a hit?
You showin again that you don't know $hit
Me, I get PAID to point out where commas don't fit
My editing chops is as irresistable as my wit

You think you gettin the last word with me
then you ain't heard my words equal money
while you sittin at home in front of your teevee
hopin you can order fresh rhymes from off of QVC

Blaze Battle 6.x

Okay, so you tightened things up a bit
not that you evah got hopes of writin a hit
your tighty whites need whitenin up a bit
'cause when Ice take the mic I know it mean B gotta $hit

While you spout about my need for a corrective lens
I'll two-wheel it to Costco, buy you a bulk box a Dependz
some fa you and some fa ya friends
Ice git the last word, that's how it always ends

To stay on my wheel you needin fake hemoglobin
I bask in the limelight while you stay backstage dopin
you could join the rodeo, but my calves defy ropin
watch where I spit, you still gawkin - yo mouth's open

Blaze Battle 6.x

First, Ice say my rhymes is gettin too elementary
It's just that you seemed confused when my references got literary
Thought you might find it easier to understand when my lyrically
innovative tales were told more slowly and more simply

Or I maybe jus need to stick to subjects that you know
like the skin and bones style of Mies van der Rohe
or the 80-volume works of Cassius Dio
or your refusal to accept that you pedal real slow

But then you say you hungry for my lyrical treats B Gears aim to please
so grab a seat at my table and tuck into these beats
My legs are smoove like butter, my skin is peaches and cream
Anytime you served by me, boy you livin the dream

Blaze Battle 6.x

Gril, I'll eat yo lyrics for suppa
Ice Y make ya pee, go'n need the quicka picka uppa
thinkin you keen with words like veracity
betta eat mo beta carotene cause you lackin perspicacity

You say your hood is Woodberry? May as well and should be Mayberry
'cause not only is yo rhymes vanilla but they taste like Gayberry
left unda ya chamois pillow by the "I Heart Salt 'n Pepa" fairy
you rappin 'bout as rough as you cycle - not to mention your legs is hairy

so go grab a Bic while Ice take this fight to a higher level
that fool R. Kelly can suck my bik while I listen to your amateur drivel
I'll give you a head start of a mile while I kick back in style
My Lemond ready to take the lead when you fall to the bottom of the pile

Blaze Battle 5.x

Yo rhymes is getting downright elementary,
Don’t make Ice have a cow now
Sho nuff as I can bike a century,
I’d say you listenin to too much Kris Kross and Lil Bow Wow

My rhymes make ya face red,
Just stick a feather in that hair and you be ready for a pow wow

Rhymes like mine you won’t touch in years
Tally up my one-two licks and I’d say yo rappin account’s in arrears, Gears

Blaze Battle 5.x

Breakadawn it? Playa, you can’t even Tony Orlando and Dawn it
in your attempt to match wits with me
By the time you find your next rhyme
I’ll be well into my seventies

While I’m at the gym getting stronger and building speed
you on your phone punchin slams ‘bout imaginary jewelry
Got nothing real to say cause you know I’m high quality
Try to deny but you know it’s a lie--that’s why you tight sweatin me

Blaze Battle 5.x

I rap mach speed, I’m supersonic
I be sippin my T&T while you still memorizing the lines to Jam On it
That fake Gucci watch ya may as well go ahead and pawn it
Cause this rap battle is timeless and I can breakadawn it

Blaze Battle 5.x: You just can't stay away, can you...

Poor Ice. Tries to act like he know thing one about B
but his smack talk lacks the facts that he needs
to make rhymes with veracity that match his tenacity
in this battle with B'more's number one cycling bettie

It's Woodberry, not Hampden, where Britney chills
To ride this filly, take 41st to Dru Hill
Hang a right before you hit the Clipper Mill pool
Or you end up all wet--lookin insteada just soundin like a fool

What else did you get wrong? Let me consult my list
Or you wanna read it yourself? Here, it's balled up inside my fist
It's my gear, not me, that was crafted in Italy
and 'fore you call out my cheap style, you best explain why you always copyin me

B hails from the land of Macduff the Thane
I shout rhymes from the tower that bears my name
Ice, it's your whack talk that's foulin you outta this game
Just turn, Malinois, turn, back from whence you came

Corrective lenses? Got 'em--you even seen 'em on me
so maybe you wanna check your own visual acuity
And you sayin' I'm too old for Girls Gone Wild? That ain't no shock to me
but it is that Ice like girls like that--sloppy drunk and underage--damn, who are you, R Kelly?

Blaze Battle 5.x: It is, once again, on.

Aww, quit yo whinnyin - you soundin like the Black Stallion
canterin round Hampden witcho pyrite-plated medallion
fake gold chains is about the closest you get to Italian
one more strike and you out - and that's without ya foulin

So while you be hysterically howlin like Rin Tin Tin
I shoot lyrical arrows with this mic like I'm mothaf*ckin Elfin
they can't deliver the coffins fast enough for the wack bodies I be pilin
they lined up for miles like yo smack ancestors at Ellis Island

Go get some spectacles for your myopia, B
you need not look further for the utmost quality
though I suspect a monocle would be more suited to your style
as they never even showed your face in Girls Gone Wild...

Blaze Battle 5.x

Callin me out for practicin over the holiday? I think you projectin
With just a little heat from B Ice turns to vapor through sublimation
And you must be confused 'cause your words read like a mystery
As I recall over the weekend, I was spittin back multiple rhymes for every one you texted me

You need a few days to catch up, get that bik box some rest and recovery?
Take all the time you need to bring it fresh when you come back to me
cause on the mic, on the bike, or behind a door marked "Privacy"
this bettie don't throw down with MCs of low quality

Damn, you on fire today girl! All practicin yo lines over the long weekend and whatnot... that's what it takes to keep up wit Ice…For now you can wear the 'maillot jaune'... temporarily.

Blaze Battle 5.x

Cryptologist? Um, no. More like The Plagiarist
Bustin on my spelling like I did to you in Round 2.6
That's a trick so tired I even had to let it pass
When you misspelled "thespians" like an unskool'd a$$

I think I stick wit callin you Ice while I give you this advice
Best listen up fool, don't wanna hafta say it twice
If the day ever come when you get to know what or how well B-Gears suck
You best play that date in the lotto cause you been blessed with mad luck

Blaze Battle 5.x

They call me Wiley like the comic cause my rhymes are the randomest
all the ladies want my jock cause they know I'm the handsomest
straight up it's round the clock, ya hear - my bik bok neva get no rest
my chainring's got mo teeth than ya mowf - suckin wind's what you do best

My puzzles leave ya befuddled?
well call me the Cryptologist
If all these betties don't get muzzled
Ice gonna need a urologist

You talk 'bout PDR - they ain't invent a drug strong enough
to control this Euro ridin knave who slay the cobbles in the buff
and if you see that granny gear ped'lin spoof called Britney
tell her she need a dictionary cause 'non-sequitir' won't win no spellin bee...

So what I'm pumpin' Nu Shooz--you think THAT'S a way to dis me?
I Can't Wait (to Rock the Mic) just like my man Spyder D
So listen up Ice, I'ma tell you what it's all about
B-Gears has got something that you can't live without

I got a new blue hoodie that says Bianchi for my bday
From Joe at Joe's Bikes who knows I roll with gear from Italy
I got Converse, too--I love new kicks--
these were hand-knit by Jules cuz she's a crafty b*tch

Now I'm all g'd up from my chapeau to the street
Fresh style to match my rhymes--you know I can't be beat
So foul and fair a day the world will never see
than when all would-be rappers bow down to B

If she saw it up on Broadway it musta been in Spanish
those eses on the corner - for Danes they looked a little tannish
prancin round they outdoor stage, I wouldn't call that mannish
but they prolly find a minor part for you - like Menteith or Caithness

And bustin on my drug while you mention The News?
I'd couldn't really hear ya cause yo Sanyo pumpin Nu Shooz
take this as a lesson, it's a gift you shouldn't refuse
step down from where you frontin 'cause you know you gonna lose

You think that you dissin me by callin me a donkey
But all you did was prove that you a white bread honky

Fool, that ain’t no slam; Eeyore’s hella cool
So’s C. Robin, Piglet and my whole hundred-acre crew
We snack on honey, we hunt heffalumps
and we spit jams ‘bout a joker claimin’ to do the humpity-hump
with trophy girls on the podium after racin to win
when we all know he ride bout as well as a fish swim without fins

Campari, Cristal, Sierra, and Shiner Bock
Even with a bday hangover, Britney Gears still rocks
the mic all night, mad tight, into the day
while poor Ice can’t hardly get outta his own way

My name’s ICE y HOT
and I fly like a meteor
My heat equates your defeat,
leave ya in the dirt like a petite Eyore

It’s gonna take more than your hobo army
to take me down
I got my Atomic Girlz backing me up
and they don’t mess around

Ice is nice as spice
when the party be jumpin
but when the gatts start clackin
there’s backup—Jangly McSumpin…

A bday shout-out from the man himself: Ice
Props like that show it’s not just you’re a$$ that’s nice
Tho I-95 is keeping your pulled pork at bay
I hope you’re getting to chill some and play some on this fine weekend day

B. Gears in da house, It’s her birfday
They gonna haveta rename it Dopest Chick Rappa in Da Erf Day
Cause the slickest MCs she can slay
While cruising 54-10 on her no-horse Bianchi sleigh

I’m up Broadway way rockin out wit Macbeth
Lookin so fine I bring Banquo back from death

Oh, and that little sumthin? I almost forgot all about it
That's just cuz red skin tights? Shareef don't like it
I see you tryin to hang tight, keep a hand in the mix
But I can't tell if you rappin or these just Tourettes tics

SuperFlash in my red skin tights, like the Clash I rock the CASbah
while you huffin and puffin in your tightey whites, they be callin you The GASPah
tryin to corner me wit'cha predictable lyrical tricks,
I'd say your trainin hardly prepared you for the Special Olympics
(and if you wanna come close to trackin my rhymin contrail you gonna need a Concorde fulla private dicks)

Respect to my Laydee for her shout-out to the Bard
She bustin' out da rhymes that bring the boys to the yard
The vrouwen swoon for Shakes wit' his iambic pentameter
But Brit's got the moves that really turn up the thermometer

Girl don't let no Butt'r in your Lycra from that punk-ass Puck
Cuz all the flyest playaz gonna try they fairy luck
Poor Ice got no more hope than a steroid-free LeMond
He just gonna hafta sit at home and hold his magic wand...

Blaze Battle 3.1

Collatinus? More like calamitous when you take the mic
You talk smack with bout as much sense as you ride your bike
You full of more non-sequiters than John dos Passos
Not to mention lookin like a tool in your onesie from Assos

Talkin PCP again, Ice? You need a new drug like Huey and the News did back in the day
Borrow Mama Doc's PDR, or maybe hit up T-day next time you're up Charm City way
I know enough bout history that I can roam if I want--no wings or will--on my sky blue Bianchi
But why you front like you love old Italy after tryin' to do me like Sacco and Vanzetti?

As for that lambada? That dance is as verboten as the hosen you're rockin
If that's what you thinkin bout you must like the view under these petticoats you clockin
And you the one be rollin up on a faux fairy land where things ain't what they seem
Just beware Robin Goodfella and his pansy-infused chamois cream

Blaze Battle 3.0

Kim Jones? PUH-lease, li'l gears -
that wack-a$$ trick ain't done jack $hit in years
bitch tried to avoid servin hard Philly time fo her crimes
axkin for transfers to Connecticut so she could while the time re-mixin White Lines

so take ya pop gangsta tripe back to the plebians, G
I' m like Collatinus and Brutus to your Tarquinius Superbus, see
if you don't know Roman history then just step off that Bianchi
'cause even with nitro you be needin PCP to keep up with Ice y

your play-actin bravado belong on stage with the thesbians
you'll be right at home with the castratos and cardboard fairy lands
as you slip into lyrical quicksand at the hands of this tight-rhymin man
doin stereomicrophone lambada round your petticoat can-can...

Blaze Battle two-point-oh, wait, I win!

You want it for real? Hardcore? You best be sure what you asking
cause I can bring it like Lil Kim Jones and her roughneck Queen Bee Sting
You picturin balls 'gainst my seat? Sounds like you got problems
But when I bring my lips to your mic, trust me boy, that'll solve 'em

You throwin down URLs--Mama Doc call it po-mo
I know it's just more of you tryin to prove your mojo's nuovo
But your flow's so old it's in the double-A-R-P
buyin prescription Viagra, collectin checks from social security

I gave props to Merckx before you, name checked my gear before you
Can you even read your own cue sheet or do you need me in front of you
so you can follow my lead while barely matchin my speed
You say we lip-syncin' Easy-E, but looks like you lip-syncin' me

Best put your Nederhop ass on your Huffy or Murray
or whatever off-brand hoopty you ridin in your quest to best me
and take your bik bok back to Flanders or Wallonia
cuz if it's just your cranks that's long n stiff, I got less time than Morris Day for ya.

Are you gettin the point, Ice? Should I keep repeatin it still?
I can rhyme like I climb to the top of Sugar Hill
where the whole Gang be sayin MY name as the winner of this battle—
Brit’s the girl who melted Ice and left him limp in his saddle.

A'ight, let me show you what time it is...

I bring it hardcore - like a Flandrian
you tourin dem parks while I Ronde von Vlaanderen
Rain? It slide off my back like a duck, with ease - while you take yo shiverin a$$ in for a snack at Chuck E. Cheese
If you're gonna take the mic - do it for real, girl, PLEASE
else I'm gonna have to graffiti your saddle with these (http://www.truck-nuts.com)

You still back near the startin line, fumbling wit'cho Oakley Thump
while the podium girls bring my gold medal to the massage room, where we do the humpty-hump
and I ain't talkin no Digital Underground - punks may as well be eatin nilla wafers and ground round
while this street-savvy veteran do laps around yo broke-a$$ town

You think you a candidate in this race? You been watchin too much Barack Obama, ace
'cept I think The Rock and yo mama spawned theyselves a love child and gave you a free bike from Race Pace
Bianchi, Guerciotti, Bottecchia, Pinarello
I'll say hasta to all that pasta for a Merckx in red, black and yellow...

Blaze Battle 2.7

Poodles preenin’ at the sound of your malinois wail?
Uh, seem more like Pepe Le Pew jonesin’ for Penelope Pussycat’s tail.
While you be racin’ then nappin’, we be getting all riled
By the playaz who rock it steady mile after mile.

Ice you might beat us in speed but never in style
Just go back to bed, boy, get some rest for awhile
Step back to the mic when your rhymes r fresher
And you don’t misspell Flav’s name cuz you cracked under pressure.

Blaze Battle 2.6

I'll continue to rhyme while you ladies work on yo ménage à trois
and preen like poodles in the shadow of this Malinois
37.5? Sheeit, you must mean meters per hour
I be hittin highway speed while y'all grubbin on Martha White flour

Cornbread? More like white bread -
makes me wonder why I even got outta bed
but rather than let the lack of competition go to my head
I'll bust out Flavor Flave, just to prove old skool ain't dead

I'm lampin I'm lampin, I'm cold cold lampin
I got louies, boys - I ain't trampin
unless you count my tramp name, Jangly McSomethinSomethin
that alter ego be on foot, and still he be cleanin up you laydeez like a dustbin...

Blaze Battle 2.5

Hate on my Italian gear if that’s what you need
But Ice, you Walloon-lovin fool, you just can’t deny my speed
I’ve hit 37.5 on my Mediterranean steed
Leavin sukaz like you behind me wonderin what happened to they lead

Your knowledge of the New Kids’ songbook ain’t really helpin’ your street cred
But maybe you’ll hear me better if I say it like Donnie Wahlberg might have said:

(Step one)
Put your xtra-small skinsuit on
(Step two)
While I roll right past you
(Step three)
And you ask How fast can she be?
(Step four)
While you admire my back door
(Step five)
I’m already at the finish line!

Now back to rhymin’
Team Atomic Lady Style
Step off my home girl Mama Doc
‘nless you wanna be up in her ER fo awhile

You droppin names like crzy
when we all know you an army of jus one
And you’ll be wishin’ all you had wuz road rash
if you don’t come correct wit some respect before we’re done

Blaze Battle 2.4

Girl, don't even bother openin ya trap
Ice y will hitcha like PCP, make ya look like Devastain Dave with his Zip Zap Rap
If my bik bok had eyes all it would see is the twister
that be ridin up 'hind my wheels, makin Dorothy look like that fool from Twisted Sister

So open sesame like King Sun say
choke on my gravel-spittin dust while I pave the way
for intergalactic Belgian warfare across the pavé -
even aliens can't escape the fray I'm creatin today
(and don't even mention TW Man - you know that fool's gay)

Take a little time to appraise the situation
you ain't even in line for last place, may as well stop for a libation
but even stiff dranks won't ease the pain of your Ice-ification
my long stiff cranks'll leave ya wishin you was back wit'cha Playstation...

Blaze Battle 2.3

Ice, Eddy ain't yo man, he chew you up and spit you out
Cuz you be ridin like a geez wit' emphysema and the gout
You think you got game, but you're just Hong Kong Phooey
Belgians eat you alive like you're a bowl of waterzooi

The Laydeez on the Team can crush your vrouwen like flies
And we look so fine when we do it make you wish your bik bok had eyes
We roll past ya so fast you only get to see our dust
Leave you standin' in your tighties just like your hero E-Z Lust.

Blaze Battle 2.2

Castelli? Giordana? Sheeeit, Italians... take it back to the saunas
This street smart Belgian be ridin ball$-out in his plein air pajamas
skin suit - is the technical term
slidin smoove down the street like I'm doin the worm

they call me ICE 'cause I'm chill, when I'm caliente it's HOT
I got the sabor muy grande from head to bik bok
other riders be countin my lead in hours, not seconds - they'll have to invent a new clock
to track my speed like Cadel Evans, while they tryin to hang tough like New Kids on the Block

Old skool - it's the Belgianest of preferences
I'll drop Aesop Rock like dead weight with his Nike and iPod sell-out references
there's no stoppin this fool-droppin hip-hoppin tribute to Merckx, betty -
Ice is Audi, but not without a toast to my man Eddy...

Blaze Battle 2.1: Seventeen hours later, huh?

Ice, you really takin your time comin up with new rhymes
Guess you think they need to age like the bottle of fine wine
Like I be sippin with the playas who game is mad tight
Not suckas as slo on the mic as they is on the bike

In case you missed it, that means you
tho you like to holla bout yo speed
But if you as fast as you say
those vrouwen you "satisfied" prolly still have some needs

But it's all good, Ice, you just keep eatin those frites
While B Gears rides by to clarify it's MY a$$ that's generatin the heat
and inspirin the desire of every cyclin scrub I beat
On my way past your fool podium to keep tearin up the streetz

Blaze Battle 2.0

Don't you be worryin 'bout my tail size, child -
that $hit be docked, aero-Doberman-style
you can peep it witcho eyes while I be on the podium, eatin French fries
but my predictable victory is all you'll be able to see, I surmise

You think I left this fight? Ice was just takin a break,
satisfyin the svelte Flemish 'vrouwen' while wheel-suckin Italians loungin with they fake & bake
I'll take this rap battle to the far and near, incineratin wannabe-rap-makin cyclists
while my UV rays ionize their lily-white ass way up in the thermosphere

What's that I hear? Can't keep pace with this rhymin heat?
That's why they call me Icy y Hot, 'cause I chill while I burn this beat
straight into the virginal eardrums of so-called MCs - my mojo is the new nuovo
so step aside, the rest a you new jacks might as well be lip-syncin Easy E...

b*tch, how you gonna fit that tail up in there in that XS skinsuit? sheeeeet...

Step it up? Step it up? Boy, step to this:

Ice y Hot (or is it Jangly) you think you can serve me
But your rhymes leave me cold like the ice in my sweet tea
Most of all I'm dissapointed in your logical inconsistencies
First you dis Eminem as new skool then namecheck some off-brand neo Supremes
And Sunday I heard you claim that you don't watch too much teevee
But if someone asked I'd say that boy seem downright obsessed with Doc McDreamy

I think you misheard my word on your quad-butted action--ain't nothin shameful bout that a$$
But if I'm in line to see your behind it's cuz I had to slow down to wait for it to pass
See with my Bianchi, my Cane Creeks, my Shimano Deore XTs
For every Ride for the Feast you've done, I've done three
And churned up the mountains of Oregon, over the top, and down to the sea
And always with more style than your girl Beyonce.

Ai'ight - I wasn't going to throw down, but you had to go and drag medicine into it...

Lets get it clear, Ice, you ain't no mad cyclo doctor
You talkin smack med like a straight up sucka
Get your tongue all tied up wit big words like "coccygeal"
You don't even know the coccyx is just a tail vestigial

You best step it up if you be sayin "synchondrosis"
Someone ask you what it means and you be pleadin' agnosis
Where the biz meets the seat is a "vulvar hematoma"
When I leave you in my dust its cuz you ridin' all slow-mo

Now I'm the fine-assed Doc of mighty Team Atomic
And my quads are more deadly than the plague bubonic
So don't be in my grill wit yo "Web MD"
You slow enough on wheels, don't even try for skillz like me!

Awww sheeeit...

First of all, for the rekkid, let's get it straight -
Ice don't wear no bibs, that ain't even open to debate
Bibs be belongin at Long John Silver's, where all the wheel-draggin suckas
eatin shrimp baskets 'stead a rollin wit us high-wheelers

Eminem? Girl, you insult me witcha new skool references
while this mad cyclo MD be referrin to Gray's Anatomy for terms like coccygeal and
synchondroses
you betta step it up if you wanna stay in this game
you just hatin on the playa while Destiny's Child be sayin my name

I push a fitty-fo ten, my legs is relaxin while you maxin
try to bust on my posterior view - I'll be bustin my XS seams all the way to the cover of GQ
the only view you gettin is of this speed demon's behind -
and for that you gonna have to git in line...

Boy, you frontin' like we in "8 Mile" when there's 92 to go
You best grab onto your bib straps while I unleash my flow...

They call me Britney Gears, b*tch, cuz just like that 'ho
I'm rockin' no panties and got quads strong like chro-mo
I'll rhyme while I climb thanks to Campagnolo
Pullin' past the peloton ain't nothin' nuovo

If you're bein' upstaged, that's your problem, not mine
Maybe think less 'bout references that reach back in time
Cannibal, Hannibal, Manimal--so what they all rhyme
Right here, right now, it's strictly style that shines

Now I can see through your skinsuit that you're quadruple butted
Which is nice, but your weak sunblock has left you all bright red
Me, my skin is creamy like vanilla cuz I thought ahead
But your cycling style's about as tight as that "rapper" called K-fed.

Back atcha:

What - you think it's empirical?
the way you try to upstage my supersonic lyrical
endeavors that make it it unequivocal
that there's no match for this hard-rhymin Cannibal, raisin the ante on that candy-a$$ Hannibal

Give me a Belgian, I'll eat that sucka like frites
my slipstream alone'll shave ya legs, you ain't go'n need no Neet
find me a Big Wheel, I'll take that $hit to the street
mowin down fake domestiques like they sucka bo petes

Tighty whitey man? Jock-rockin fool may as well go eat shredded wheat
Casper outfit-wearin sucka best step aside from the heat
I be generatin when my rubba hits the pavement
'cause "Where'd he go?" is all they'll be sayin 'bout this gent...

It. Is. On.

B*tch, I'll hike in my skinsuit
I'll bike in my skinsuit
and damn straight I'll spit
into the mic in my skinsuit

Kmart, Target, Goodwill--make no diff'rence
All that matters is you feelin' the breeze from my wind sprints
An' got an uninterrupted view of my a$$ from where you sit
Behind me while I ride hard like Cannibal Merckx did

Suckerz call me cheap, I prefer economical
Got my skinsuit on sale so I could afford to buy a multi-tool
You might be rockin' high-end gear, sheddin' money by the pocketful
But compared to tighty whitey man, boy you just about as comical

Nice! How about...

I got three pockets but they ain't on my jersey
they hold my shots and gels, make a sista go cr'zy
if you Belgian enough why don't you take the mic
else take yo Kmart-a$$ skinsuit for a sissy-a$$ hike...

I think the insult “used skinsuit” was the inspiration for the classic rap...

You think you fresh
But you be ill
You know you got your skinsuit
At the Goodwill