A battle track vs Grymm.

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whiter than snowfall, white like a cueball
hispanic roots but acting whiter than eyeballs
grymm coming through with those backpacker raps
he ain't sh*** he's gonna get capped

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I bet you think I'm an easy mark...
living in a place where you're safe in the park after dark
its a lark, i'm a white boy on an island
beefeaters with their big furry hats being silent
i mean we got a queen, we sit around drinkin cups of tea
paddle in the sea with trousers rolled up to our knees
while you live in the big metropolis
where crooked cops exist, and most hip-hoppers is
well i'll tell you this for nowt
big city boy, in the uk you'd get ya teeth knocked out
cos we don't f***ing play (no way)
and new york simply ain't what it was back in the day
used to be the place you'd look at with awe
but now big apple rappers are generic and poor
now you're being outshined by every other city in america
even Canadas ahead of ya!
its like you're in a time warp, thinkin your city is the best
but hip-hop in new yorks a f***ing mess
shit clone rapper factory puttin in overtime
Biggie would be turning in his grave to hear ya rhyme
now Barcs saying 'F*** Grymm' don't really help
I gotta take you out my goddamn self
puerto rican motherf***er, with that played out flow
you know you got a rep cos you're down with dough
but homes i'll give you credit where its due
you've stayed loyal to your crew and haven't f***ed off to a fansite too
always down to help out, freindly, always f***in grinning
but ya call yourself a n*** when you're lighter than some linen
if we playing grymm rules, may as well call myself chinese
mexican, arab or japanese
it makes no f***ing sense, the definition of wack
wanna be something you're not cause it sounds good in ya raps
listen honky, i got some f***in news for you
you ain't more black than me, but you're more wack than me
my rhymes designer, yours generic like they from a motherf***in' factory
and your fam sound like twats to me
and wheres this ego from?
you won some weak assed battles now you think you're number one?
you think you're the don? the don juan? you're so wrong
you're a plane being swotted out the air by Mink Kong
took advantage of the site being dead and made your name
got respect in this game, a little pseudo-fame
now i'm standing in my corner like a rap Roy Jones
and you creep into the ring like, erm... Katie Holmes
and just like that crazy bi***, you're nice but weird
well homie, maybe thats the reason that you're really feared
but now wheres your topical title? its f***in' gone
we both know ya battle belt will go before long
and I can see your game slippin, its evident
that the pussy whippin must really be in full effect
missing deadlines came first, now i know that you're smart
but ya working for the man instead of working on your art
Now ya changed ya name to dash dash G dash dash
well i'll jump on the mic and dash dash ya hopes fast
uh-oh you changed again, now you claim that you a deity
i'm not impressed, all this switching names gay to me
its what the backpackers do, the wack rappers do
look at me, i've kept the same f***in name since 92
its the Mink-C, i'm f***in ya bi*** without a rubber
then track you down and smother you with Jon Doughs blubber
when i do a battle track ain't no fancy word flippin
even though i think your songs are f***in 'offal'like chitlin
i'm buzzin like ritilin, i'll fry you like a chicken
i can take you f***in down, i ain't bullshittin
so Wipe that grin from your grill that resembles aunt jemima
f*** grymm, the epitome of white boy rhymer...