MOSS | PH vs Madness (GT Championship)

How to Score: Give each pod of rhymes a score out of 10. Scoresheet will auto-calc your running scores for each rapper. Tweet final score to @skipmacintyre for tally.

This was one of PH's last performances before his tragic passing in June of 2015. PH was a husband and father of 3. If PH has brought you entertainment with his battles and music over the past decade-plus, please take a moment to donate what you can spare to his memorial fund, or share the link:

YouCaring: Robert Alan "Pumpkinhead" Diaz

Rapper Points Bars PPB Avg
PH
Madness

Madness Round 1 Score (/10)
For those that don’t really know me, Tony’s the name.
I been here since the beginning
when we coined this place the O-zone, holdin the flame.
Shit I just turned thirty three.
And for me I feel like I’m gettin to old for this game,
it’s like age... and rap...
wait, motherfucker ain’t you like forty and change?

Shit, bro, you like Head Ice age. Or the Ice Age.
Your fucking kids? ...My age.

But actin like you tough when I coulda just handled Quantum Physics.
And you're Puerto Rican, so I know your blood type is Honda Civic.

Your broad all on my didick until it explode like a bomb is in it;
if it's beef I put my fist all through this pussy like an obstetrician.

But he type nice sometimes.
So if you wanted to doubt him, yo you couldn't.
But it's no Secret, PH is pretty balanced, for a woman.

But I'm connected everywhere I go like an unlimited data plan.
You're a Zero, so you can scream 'til
you're blue in the face like Megaman.
Or I come strapped with that Machete like Trejo, Dan,
and put that blade through your fuckin fade like a Raiders fan.
In jail? You-PC, that bar (cold), get checked out when the laser scan.
With that pipe spittin fire, like I'm playing jazz flute in Anchorman.

PH Round 1 Score (/10)
Just to set it off, in this battle shit, I'm a analyst.
Bars crafted with the same Dizaster-ous
patterns that conquered Canibus.
No forty pages, but for [slight slur]damn near forty years,
I been the man 'n shit,
so too bad if you mad
for what I'm about to do to this Madness kid.

Bow to your sensei.
From 20 paces, I put your light out like a candlewick.
I saw your girl's body. She's what I call a magic trick.
She's about my bars and balls -- that's a abacus;
I don't push a Acura Legend,
but they say I'm a Legend, and that's Ac-urate.
You're an MC that part times as a comedian just for battlin',
who takes more back shots than slave sadomasochists
do from master's whip.
Man up Madness, before I massacre who you mashin' with,
that goes for Joe Cutter, Dirtbag Dan, and yea,
Frank Stacks a bitch.

Your Cali crew will pull a switcheroo and get rid 'a you.
It's Common Sense,
your Westside Connection will see the bitch in you.

I'm not one of you jokey ass rappers. I hope you ain't mistook me.
You think you a Battle Cat, well if that's the fact,
well I'm He-Man. Cuz I'm used to riding on you big pussies.

He thought I was gonna creep solo, in a Jeep dolo,
but I came with three cholos.
One look like Madd Illz, the other two
look like Jonny Storm and Jee Polo.

They gon catch Tone on the corner, like an off the hook payphone.
Break bones on bums, you know, out of place, holmes,
I got a crazy ratchet, and when I model her,
shit'll get ugly like Grace Jones.

Madness Round 2 Score (/10)
You owe me a hundred dollars,
cuz I bet Frank Stacks you wouldn't choke against PoRichard.
And you such a dyke homo,
every time you play ro-sham-bo, you only throw scissors.

Yo, welcome to Orlando you giant Puerto Rican easter egg.
Shit compared to you, Tone is fly, my dick's Cobra Ky,
why? Cuz it sweep the leg.
I should let a chainsaw rape your face
like a scene from the Evil Dead.
decapitated so everyone on I-4 can see your head,
hangin where there used to be the sign for Merita bread.

(What up my people??)
See everybody here know me, Tony G.,
up a couple drinks, I'm like the O-Zone Ol'D.B.
And if this f**** got a issue I'ma straighten him out like I got OCD.

You old as shit. Probably making muffins or a baker's dozen
but you ain't fuckin with my bread.
This old man probably all... out of breath...
from the thoughts running through his head.

Chillin at his mom's rest,
talking to kids about battling's infinite conquests,
but always stops to yell, "Get off my lawn!"
but he still lives in the projects.

You graduated with Tito Puente.
And got your yearbook signed by Don Francisco.
Plus you were watching Sabado Gigante...
when it was Sabado Chiquito.

I pull the small heart out of this Decep' like the All-Spark.
How are you unique
when you look like every fuckin Puerto Rican at BVL Wal-Mart?

But I grew up around Boricuas and I love em to death
so just play along, y'all, it's all part of the gag.
Actin like you hard,
son your crew got one less star than your flag.

PH Round 2 Score (/10)
He gets his material from 1980s comedy movies. Way to be original.
So he gets Big, this Naked Gun 'll have him Trading Places,
I'm not kidding you.
Torso in the basement. Neck and face in the living room,
you'll catch 9 irons out that Caddyshack,
if you go for Easy Money, I'm killing you.

He moved to Cali, and left his partner in rhyme in Florida,
that was Critical;
your bars vers' HighCollide was cheap vodka,
that's when you hit your Pinnacle.
I'll front like I'm giving you dap and start shivving you,
cut puzzle pieces out your face like Mystikal
album cover for Unpredictable,
damn, I'm nice, I put words and phrases into a centrifuge,
you rap jokes, buddy, my bars 'll put an end to you;
stomp you in the ground til smoke and spark travel into you,
and there's a crater under your body
like a Terminator was sent for you.

It's about to Rain in Southern California;
I'll kill all your phoney homies,
and split you in three, so all we'll see is Tony, Tony, Tony.

I'm a pimp though, got your limp hoe by her pisshole,
have her shouting out more than a Carter Deems intro.

The South a movement. You could've been on,
but you traded yourself to the West and your buzz got piss warm.
Then he Lurch back, hopin' they add 'im(Addam)
to the Family, but the love, Cousin, It's gone,
your last name is Gomez so it's only right you kiss arms.

Madness Round 3 Score (/10)
See I can't even go hard on PH.
Cuz that's my homie and he type cool.
I got all my references from 80s movies.
They came out when you were in high school.

If I rapped like you, I would rape myself.
It's like your style is fractured pieces of something.
It's a decent assumption that we're not impressed with raps that
sound like fuckin Ikea instructions.

(But he's "Big", uh, I could do that. Yo.)
I got that Foot-long on him, so don't try to be a Hero(gyro).
I go for broke like I'm Po', Boy, a Grinder with this Torpedo.
Your girl? I'ma Bomb'er, cuz I'm a Engineer with the Zingers.
As soon as we Meet-balls, and I had my salami
all in that chicken fingered.
For real. What the fuck, I gotta put it in subtitles?
Foot-long, gyro, po' boy...
Motherfucker I just killed you with Sub titles.

But I ain't wanna do you like this.
Cuz he my boy, but hey, he ain't got him a choice.
Your parents regret having you... because they wanted a boy.

In battle rap, your name is "ehh" cuz he the ultimate dicksucker.
You were gonna battle Getcha..
but you look like fuckin Getcha's big brother.
(And I stole that line from him outside motherfucker!)

PH Round 3 Score (/10)
What's poppin, Tone? You not spittin proper, Tone.
You're a Columbian who thinks he's Italian.
You wouldn't be a Soprano, even if you sang opera, Tone.
You put 3 albums out, only 1 person would cop it, Tone.
Stop it, Tone, I'm a monster that'll pop ya
and tan ya til you're coppertone.
You're not fire, bitch, you're a snitch. A copper, Tone.
The real Tone from Florida is Deff,
your voice? Ehh. You're not even the proper Tone.

Why you even here though? KOTD stop calling you bro?
Tried rapping serious for once and
the math you added actually got you subtracted by Uno?
You self-hating race traitor.
Leading a double life like there's two Tones,
brown on the outside, white on the inside... n**** you two-tone.

He done shit out here
to make y'all laugh for cash like Silent Libary.
But he moved to Cali, cuz that's where he can
come out the closet and keep all his silent lies buried.

I pray to the lord, cuz you a non-believer,
so I'm like "Yo, I know he wrong,
he traded a chance Peek-at-chu just to Poke-a-mon."

What'chall want, a champion that'll use the belt to bring order,
or a joker that'd use it as a gag gift that shoots water?
You want the resurrection led by a man
that never turned his cheek on a brand,
or a n**** that at the first signs of adversity
he travels to another land and turns his back on the fans?