Clabtrap - Fats vs Eye-Cue [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1: Eye-Cue]
Sam smith ain't shit but an ogre looking sloth
Got parachutes for ears prolly catch air when E wak
I bring words to life you're an animation buffoon
Like the jolly green giant a colorful cartoon
Fuck Fat beats, such a fucking mutt halfbreed
Pony tailed wanker look like an obese drag queen
His Nose so big they call him tucan sam
Slanging fruit loops to kiddies out his rape van
Sam like a cow with down syndrome on some oxy
It must be that piercing? I bet he snorted up a cockring?
This battle gone commercial ya getting he's exposed
Like messing with Sasquatch shitting on his fur coat
So Fuck yo sammitty sam I'm going to keep on blastin
I'm as looney as they come i got five on his casket
The battle barely started its already a closed book
This British born rappers toe tag is reading SHOOK

[Verse 2: Fats]
Yeah, I'm massive and I'm ugly
And I'll squash you with my Big Foot
I ain't shook
You got that fuckin' Mr. Rogers look
Half a monkey's IQ
Claimin' to be a genius
But evidently that's a lie
Just like your fuckin' genus is
You're more or less the same mental age as your kids
Never thought I'd win a battle rap with Peter Griffin
You're fatter than my name
Titties causin' you back pain
Havin' a kid doesn't automatically mean that you're not gay
Let me make this point and drive it into your retarded brain
You oughtta learn to spell if you wanna play at this rappin' game
Dude's weak, couldn't punch out of a paper bag
Old-ass man, still tryna rock a snapback
Everyone around here would agree upon the same thing
You're like a shitty version of your pal Nick Sanville
This fossil is faded like he's on rinse and repeat
Now watch this brain-damaged bovine bull-rush him to defeat

[Verse 3: Eye-Cue]
You couldn't defeat me in battle/ if I was new born fetus
Let a lone now/ that I'm a fat middle aged genius
Epic fail with your Peter Griffin line
Names Stan American dad /assassinate your family guy
And technically I'm better than that dude EQ
I make all his beats/ an ghost write his battles too
You claiming I can't spell/ like some grammar nazi tool
Better believe you can't spell unique with out Eye-Cue
You said it yourself your ass massive and ugly
You should tour as the bearded lady prolly make good money
Yeah I'm old school rock a mother fucking snapback
Its better then be Sam rocking a colostomy bag
I've never been weak/ I'll punch these bars thur your teeth
Spit that heat when I speak/Its what they call raw technique
So keep punchin in your verses while my breathing remains beastly
Rappings not for everyone/its just something I do easy

[Verse 4: Fats]
So you're old school, eh?
Been doin' this a long time?
I been spittin' for a year and a half
But I stab with dagger rhymes
Where is your diversity?
Hurtin' me with your tinny vocals
Beggin' all your Facebook fans for votes because you're less than hopeful
Your total decimation is imminent
Sorry for the use of big words
You fuckin' idiot
Reckon this is natural?
Well I got some bad news
Your flow is so stilted it's like a cheese board, dude
You wanna be hip hop SO bad
That's why you're jealous
Oh, hey Jeff, I'm lovin' your ridiculous baggy sweaters
I better endeavor to bang on the booth door
Just so you can't record
And save the world from havin' to hear you jiggle your vocal cords
"Do as I say, not as I do"
So that little Jeff Jr. don't make the same mistakes as Eye-Cue
I don't even care if I win this or not
I'm just showcasin' the fact that I'm better than this cock