 It's been a busy 7th birthday, what a thing. Ty has sunburned, number 2 weekend, everyone at bricks and jam won last time, make some noise, let's go! Bricks and Sunday, we are here, shout out to Sam Lowns, keeping everybody fed and hungry and happy and shit all weekend, it's been amazing. Shout out to the whole team coming out, shout out to all the battlers and the fans for hanging around past 10 on a Sunday night when half of them pretty got kids with people they weren't even wanting with and shit like that. We're about to get it in right now, fuck responsibility as well! I'm genuinely not even drunk at all, just having a good time. MC on my right-hand side, unanimous, make some noise, shuffle team, make some noise! 10 on a Sunday and you're a rap battle event, it's about to be crazy, shout out to Unan, shout out to Shuffle, tell me you want to flip, you want to shuffle, go first, round number one, let's go! Your crowd reaction game has dropped, you haven't seen locksmith pouring his glass today and half his mates just passed away. The difference from where you work and are now is becoming quite clear, you used to make the crowd go wild and have 100 guys cheer, now when you rap there's only really one thing I hear. What's he on about? Mate, I've got no fucking idea! It's like he comes out swinging with a couple bars, cold control of fucking arms, getting angry, doesn't laugh, gets back home, bubble baths! The world you're a cool dude and socially pretty nice and start rapping and turn to the biggest twat known in a flick of light. It's like a magician chose you to go and be hypnotised because you get on stage and turn to a totally different guy and I know that it isn't right. I mean, when you battled Gemini, you said you'd stick a pyramid in his ribs. That's a talent mate. Why do you say this kind of shit when you hit the battle rapping stage? We're going to fly to Egypt to get one and bring it back for that display because of the strength you need. Do you know what fucking planning that would take? You're going to be at the airport trying to get your luggage checked and done. Now it's your bad boy sir, two and a half million fucking men. Remember when Gemini asked him if he hit his misses? And he went, didn't beat her up. So casual about it, like he's so fucking bored. Didn't beat her up. Do you think that would hold up in court? If we tap this woman we've got to know. Didn't beat her up. She comes home late and you flat uppercut her. I discovered it when I followed this twat undercover. Had to take her out after and act like a lover and that's what I fucked your bitch you fat motherfucker. Where are you coming? Must prefer when you can be gentle. I mean some of them like it but stay away from them, they're usually mental. It's not like the idea of him in a relationship. I mean ladies think you're taking him back to meet the parents. He's storming in half drunk. Soon as your dad sees him he's hauling his ass up because he's got all the anger and called him a dove cunt on Twitter every day for four and a half months. He begs the cake to make it better. Your cakes would be rubbish, no one wants that shit in here. The sponge would be as dry as you are and the message would be insincere. If your bacon's like your battling then I think it's crystal clear. You'd spend years working on it but only make the middle dear. Like you said, with me, every paragraph, like a religious passage. So if I bat a women that would mean as this shit happens your ribs get shattered because according to the Bible that's where we'll find the bitch in Adam. Now when I first saw him and Mar I thought they're magic. But when saw in half I was playing the magician part. They're like how's he do it? Put that bitch in a box and not spill a single drop as he splits that shit to parts. Now I feel like I'm breaking the code of magic. Picking a trick apart. I was like shuffle. I said pick a card. He can pick. Pick a card. He can pick which way he gets picked apart. Par more knuckle. First round. First minute. I'm an Arleigh Shuffle. That's how Arleigh Shuffle. I could have beat shuffle if I came here listing off Egyptian monuments. I'll pick up. I could have beat shuffle if I came here listing off Egyptian monuments. I'll pick up cinder blocks and bricks and chop that pyramid on top of him. The whole lot. Or leave him looking like a sphinx when I crack this cat's nose off. You know what? They didn't pay to just see you Nan spit the same first. Let's talk about some of the shit he'll do and say first. He'll probably start off each round with some mediocre setup. Followed by a snidey flip, implying it. All of my passion is just some childish shit. Then he'll proceed to throw my personal life in it. And then throughout three rounds, strike down plainly like he thinks my style is shit. But what you'll find is this. I don't need a stylist. Plus how can he break down my style if my style is more stylist? This is a rap battle. And you're not a rapper. You're a multi-sayer. You're not a rapper. You're a multi-sayer. You have an alphabetized journal of multis. You're the multi-savior. Picture shuffle in the glove. Approaching total strangers like, I just want to play my multis game. It's multi-player. Then you're stumbled into a bunch of thugs. Talking about how they let that llamas break. One of them was like, Yo fam, you ever had the biscuit jam? And you were like, yes, but I much prefer marmalade. You are fucking obsessed. You told, you dissed a hundred bullets because he ditched a clash to take his family to Disneyland. I also cannot see why he could switch his plans. It's because he is a dad. Would you take your kid's shuffle tea? Fucking bricks and jacks. It's twisted. Shuffle twists. In this shit, you can spit a pretty vindictive verse. But the difference is I learnt to spit to a rhythm first. This shit's been in my jeans since my birth. Ain't just something I learnt watching R.K. spit with her. Like you. Brittle little hip-hop nerd. Introverted introvert. Tight to ditch your bud because you're busy twisting words like a signature. Up until that last shit you used to bring to events. Up until that moose, did you dump her? The tight little inverted boot, he made it look like she could have used that butt for hoover such and face had a gruesome structure. But look at him looking at me anymore. Looking at me like, oh, I'm not even with her anymore. So that angle is useless, brother. You still used to fucking. Get a stick for me saying that. And you don't really need a beauty's only skin deep. But what happens when there's disfigurements to the bones underneath? So go ahead, break down my aggressiveness. Like really, you're not obsessed with it. Usually, all it takes is a few jars and he's impersonating his favourite Americans. Because when it comes to being an impressionist, you wrote the blueprints. After a few logger sips, he's Charlie Clips, chokes included. After a little E and J, he's DNA. And I know he's toothless, but his impression's spot on. So which serious rapper are you mocking next? Like really, it ain't their style that you want to wreck. After a few bottles of beer, he's dropping his Cortez impression, dropping an M bomb like he's got to wreck. It's funny. Brooklyn comes out the kid when you mix Posh with Bex. Broken mould jet, no sweat. After some burn, he's going to need his moulds checked. I don't believe a lot of the stuff that you're saying. Talk shit about my mouldy games. Fucking amazing. You quit drinking a little while ago and wouldn't stop going on about it, which comes as quite smug. I can sick of seeing these guys every other night drunk. He's so fucking self-righteous after a fucking dry month and now you're on your high horse like mother like son. In your house each day, re-opening up a wound and I don't care if it's something someone made up to go for the W because you're a battler and in this world it's totally fucking true. To be honest, I'm just jealous of your mother's addictive streak. You must make a present by such a lovely and simple feat. I mean, she's got a couple of gifts under the Christmas tree like oh, it's needle shaped, I wonder what this could be. Chasing the same dragon you rap about with your muggles and wizardry. Slumming that shit down till she has muscular dystrophy. She blew every dealer from London to Plymouth Beach, all that green, white and brown gave her a colourful history. So ladies, overweight woman beta. Whose mother does serious drugs? A fucking no, right? Husband material much? I hate about you. I hate the face you make when someone pulls you out of battle and you become an overly smiley twat. And someone's like a new nan's a cunt. He's like, ha ha, totally fine with that. Going on about swag is a bad attitude. You wouldn't be owning swag with a holding bag of stolen cash from the bank with you. You just don't have that attribute. I mean, I'm a post fucking cunt and I can fake better swag than you. Poor example. I'm so smooth, don't you know? See you on point like a Toblerone. Barry White's vocal coach. Two FLYs, my postal code. I could dose the dough in a broken toe. This ain't my first rodeo. I'm so laid back on coma toast like your mother post overdose. I'll turn up to your house just hollowing YOLO. Jump through the window as a hopper to Pogo. Fit you down because you don't honour the broco. Tell him, my... Oh, fuck, I forgot this is solo. The axle's swagged out and tough, but in reality, he is shook. He can't actually summon shit from his magical demon book. Your achievements in battling this, how I imagine I'll see it put you. The closest you get to good without actually being good. I mean, you're a fucking farmer and even your cattle thinks that you should go. Your cows talk about you until you come home. Since you casually shaved your head up when you wrapped, you literally look like the angriest baby ever. Bro, I will lyrically hit you with a lyrical punch. And I will lyrically shoot you with a lyrical gun. Know why? Cos I think there's fun. Say shit like, I hit my plug for that slab of coca. Told him I need that food on point, like a lousy moose. There's so much style in my execution. They're calling me a failure. Some point. There's so much style in my execution. They're calling me a fashion god. It's that expensive heat that you don't get for free. I'll tell you a major casket's cloth. Yeah. Louis print on a oozy's print. Weapons design. Michael clashes the cloth. Everything you wore can't. Weapons tents got an expensive scent and it ain't dauvadoff. Some would say I'm set to be a witness to my murder. And that this was over before Shuffle wrote a verse. But in my mind I'm a champion, firing at random, and he's just an innocent bystander getting a shot that he don't deserve. Look, when it comes to my affairs, I caught up with him. Realized life ain't fair. There's no doubt in tents. I'm a man that's been framed like Andy Dufresne. That's why shit got deep when I broke out the pen. Look, if you ever had your... Listen, if you ever had your mother watch your most recent clash over then turn to you and ask why are they saying I'm smack prone and you just got to laugh it off. Don't worry, mum, because the man's joking. Picture it. Capture that moment. It ain't technically my fault. My accuracy's off. They just come with crooked angles a lot and so I lack focus like the calm's broken. Speaking of calms though, for the record, without Marlowe you have no replay value, no cause, all them relevant, relative multis are so forced, just so on, so forth. I hope your home's porch gets hit by a snowstorm just so I can laugh at the soul thoughts. If you're taking a blow torch to a closed door, fuck that, because you all took a cut back. Now I'm taking tea out for cheap like a secondhand clothes store. I'll have blades around tea like the green on a golf course, but that's some shit I'll say for later because he can wait for a golf war. Fuck if they can. I don't give a fuck if they get it. Let it marinate. Plus I don't trust the opinions of the people that allow this scene to over saturate. I'll watch Alfred's Joes just pass and go and you don't gas them though like they're game changers and they are because they downgrade the quality of the game like shit playstations. Bunch of fucking forum nerds. I bet gluten makes their tummies restless. That's funny. I bet gluten makes their tummies restless and that's funny because I ain't even started cooking yet and there's a muffin present. I'll eat this muffin with crumbled edges trying to heat up on this nod like I'm readjusting my oven settings. My last few clashes my last few clashes are barely out of punch connected spiked on prom night the punch is straight from shuffle. I don't want to hear nothing about the sluts you're pressing. It don't mean you got a wingman or you get birds just because you go hunting pheasant with your cousin Edwin. They forewarned me. Don't come aggressive. Otherwise that funny cunt will start your presence. Luckily I'm wrong. Just a weapon to count the rap then funny methods. You owe this because of eggs. I'll kick your fucking head. If anyone ever put any kind of heat in your face you'd retreat to your base start jumping fences wearing them cults in size the only time we see shuffling trenches. So don't diss me for talking about weapons because you're carrying them too. I mean look at those fucking things you could probably stab me with your shoe. The way you react in your verses is true and you keep on changing from the person we knew. That's why you're always on Twitter in my personal view you get 140 different characters that's perfect for you. Threats about after a fucking Kronenberg life. People fly off the handle at you like a don't disturb sign. Psychosis, money, mitch, you should have known the first time. They don't really settle disputes between fucking spoken word fights. What I'll take issue with is this people always saying he's a pussy I'm a bigger pussy than he could ever be. I'm a bigger pussy than he could ever be. Step to me. Shuffle fled the scene. He's a bigger threat than me. I've backed out of fights with kids under 17. With kids under 17 women over 70 I'll let the fear get to me. I'm pathetic. I might get a lucky hit against your cheek but I'll be running away before I can even check to see. It's true shit. I've gotten a screw loose. I've lost fights to twist caps on a bottle of fruit juice. I'm not going to attack and I'm not going to shoot you. If I had a weapon in a gun I'd probably offer it to you. No fucker is as awkward as me. You might see me walking the streets. Come over and ask what the time is. I'll fall to my knees. Got all the first two nines in my pocket before you can breathe. You move slowly until the third and I'm going to call the police. You're not a pussy. Enough of that sort. And yeah, it just gets a sudden dead love. But what do you expect? You overuse the blade. It's going to get dull. It's going to be a metaphor for where you're at. You've gone from being a monstrosity to the easy target everyone wants to battle but no one wants to see. You're such a big name. You have to cope with the fact. You've become a stepping stone that's getting slowly eroded to sand. You're on a downward spiral and there's no getting back. I mean how are you going to explain it to both of your fans? In the second half when the pressure starts these days you want to have juice quicker than a travel lodge breakfast bar. Then you come back saying how ready for the next step you are but being hungry to win isn't the same as being attention-starved. Fucking unanimous means undisputed and given respect to. You'll never reach that level and it would be best if you didn't pretend to so change your name from unanimous to 6-1 split decision against you. You're unanimously disappointed every fan that you've got. You're unanimously turned down for every Canada shot. You're unanimously agreed that you're unanimous lost. You remember the champion shot? You remember the champion shot? The fucking Cauchy though! Everyone you fucking say shit like you don't win because you don't write a third round. My advice if you want to fucking win is write a third round. Everyone's sick of you trying to make excuses. The foundations you've made are just ancient ruins you need to admit to yourself this phase is through with and either change the blueprints or face the music. I mean this is the last chance to loon this afternoon so listen here. I don't need a wizard beard or magician gear or an assistant gear to make you disappear. Found on Plymouth Pier, washed up like Richard Gere. You choked like that material today that's the end of his career. I'm sure there's a place for you in this world Tommy that just isn't here. You've done this a large half a decade. You can do it another 50 years and all you're going to reach is the fucking middle tier of middle tier. Time. Don't talk, this is some real shit. So I'm like... This is something I've wanted to say since school you know. It makes you a faggot if I can't play Yu-Gi-Oh. Fuck that. I bet you're getting worried now Marlowe's settling into a closed relationship. And I know that it's painful. I know she's a failure. Whilst you're at your local alone, the coaster you're only made, as you hold it, explain it, with your soul that you hate this chick as you feel as if Marlowe was contained within a tote with dictatorship like if you ask me to be the best man at his wedding I'm throwing away his engagement ring. Fuck the honeymoon too. Our movie should go on vacation with her. Know just the place for it. She's never helping to make any global acquaintances. There's no emotional stake in switch just knowing that she's at home every day with him. You just lose control of your brain and start throwing your plates and shit. Posting up a poster of her face and throwing a blade at it then exploding a rage, throwing grenades at it and rocking back and forth in the corner like she won't get away with this. But no. But no, it's you that won't get away with it. Because you're jokes, they're amazing. But it's major faults in your flows and your cadences. When you're on your own, you're so basic. Without Marlowe you really notice the space there is to you. This is a laugh. But you try to lift my pack your wrist would snap and your shoulders give way with it. So fuck your jokes, because if you've got a funny bong then I'm breaking it. You bit kids with so fucking bad you pretty much stolen his alias. You should change your name to Orphan Black because you're programmed to clone a Canadian. Fuck that. Check this. I want to set the scene that Marlowe's stagged in. He's rented out a local social club for the evening. The Sherries are flowing, darling. He's rented out a local social club for the evening. The Sherries are flowing, darling. Everybody is leaning. Marlowe is still drunkenly speaking to his uncle about a honeymoon that he's booked at a wonderful couple's retreat somewhere in Egypt. It's out in the corner of his corner here in a corner of the room. Shuffle is weeping. So he slides over like, ah, Shuffle, can you feel it? Tonight's the night I'm cut from my freedom. Can you fucking believe it? And he's like, you know what? No. I can't fucking believe it. I mean, who am I going to structure my schemes with? You shouldn't be with her for hundreds of reasons. One of them being, she's always coming between us talking about you should give Shuffle a beating. He's behind your back. He always says you're not as funny as he is. Fucking Shuffle quickly, Marlowe quickly cuts him off because he can see where the trouble is leading. Yeah, well, I bloody love it, Shuffle. Just leave it. Kid Twist style down to his fucking features. It's in your DNA. He makes up your being. That's why there's twisting your structure like a double helix. What science says? Science. Science didn't think natural birth was worth their while. They just walked into a science lab and pointed out a petri dish that said perfect child. Physical traits, pearly smile. Abilities, versatile. All they didn't see is next to music tastes that said urban style. We're born joined at the hip. Now he ain't on your side. See, that's funny. Just when you're separate can join twins. Usually one of them's got a dime. Oh, that's funny.