The Battle

As I enter the battle I feel the weight of the tension
Rockin’ the floor, I’m in the fourth dimension
Oblivious to the crowd paying attention
Not to mention
I’m here to teach my opponent a lesson
Whether krump, bboy, poppin, or lockin’
It’s him that I’m stompin’
I be droppin’ dance moves like nuclear bombs
In harmony with the beat as the DJ mixes the songs

This ain’t no You Got Served or Stomp The Yard shit
This is a real battle, not commercial tidbits
‘Cause if you try battling me with that commercial shit
Imma slap you silly and get you a Bboy starter kit

(I get Buck)
Usin’ buck stomps and kill offs to kill him off
(I BBoy)
Usin’ stylish footwork, to kill flares and windmills
(Straight poppin’)
Getting my hits and my waves on the bass and the beat as I glide light on my feet
(And Lockin)
From Scooby-Doo walks and Uncle Sam points
The Black Eyed Peas said it “That’s the joint, that’s the jam.”
You’d better give up, ‘cause this battle is in my hands.