Love Actually

LEVEL 1

[Hook]
These elites are fuckin’ killin’ us,
Tryna chain the spirit, but they ain’t drillin’ us,
We rise, we fight, we don’t combust,
From the ashes of the system — it’s in us we trust!


[Verse 1]
Eyes wide open, I see through the scheme,
They feed us lies, controlin’ the dream,
Bleedin’ the planet, poison in streams,
But I’m too relentless, I fight with a team.
No more silence, no more fear,
Every word’s a weapon, I’ll make it clear,
We break their grip, the end is near,
Hope in the chaos, I persevere.


[Hook]
These elites are fuckin’ killin’ us,
Tryna chain the spirit, but they ain’t drillin’ us,
We rise, we fight, we don’t combust,
From the ashes of the system — it’s in us we trust!


[Verse 2]
Watch ‘em sit on thrones made of blood and gold,
While the people starve, doin’ what they’re told,
But I’ll never bow, I’ll never fold,
I’m a voice for the voiceless, brave and bold.
Energy fueled, I ignite the spark,
Lightin’ torches in the pitch black dark,
Revolutions start with a single mark,
And I carve my truth — permanent like art.


[Bridge]
Yeah, they’re killin’ us slow, but I refuse to die,
I got fire in my lungs and rage in my eyes,
No puppet, no pawn, I sever the ties,
Rise up, break chains, let the real ones fly!


[Outro]
These elites are fuckin’ killin’ us,
Tryna chain the spirit, but they ain’t drillin’ us,
We rise, we fight, we don’t combust,
From the ashes of the system — it’s in us we trust!
(We trust, we trust — yeah we rise, we must!)

These Elites Are Fucking Killin Us

Throwing Bread to Brids

Fantasy Rap Battle V is here. Imagine if Chris Brown brought vocals, moves, and bars, while Quavo fired back with trap swagger and ATL pride.

Who wins this round? Comment your vote below. ⬇️

🎤 Follow Arelle for more battles
🔥 Share if you’re riding with the series

Full Lyrics:
[Verse 1 – Chris Brown] It’s Breezy, I moonwalk circles round clowns, Fifteen years in the game, still holdin’ the crown. I sing, I dance, I rap, triple threat on the stage, You just ad-lib “Huncho” every other phrase. From “Run It” to arenas, I been chartin’ for years, You just ride Migos wave, autotune in your ears. I’m a hit machine, you a feature at best, Chris Brown forever, boy, I pass every test. 

[Verse 2 – Quavo] Huncho! Yeah, it’s the drip when I step in the zone, Migos made a whole flow, set trends on our own. You sing for the ladies, but the streets know me, I got plaques with no dancin’, just ATL G. You a pop star, dawg, I’m the trap with the chains, Made culture, no cap, put respect on the name. I don’t need pirouettes or no spin on the floor, I got “Versace,” “Bad and Boujee,” platinum galore. 

[Verse 3 – Chris Brown] Platinum? Boy, I breathe it, that’s a Tuesday night, My catalog’s a library, yours just hype. I’m the King of the clubs, I’m the charts on fire, Your solo joints drop and the streams get tired. I been dancin’ since a teen, now I rap with the best, You just chant on the beat while producers do the rest. You Huncho? Cool. But I’m Breezy the great, Every tour I sell out, every state, every gate. 

[Verse 4 – Quavo] Man, stop, you talented, but wild with your mess, All that drama in the news, got you lookin’ depressed. Me? I keep it chill, ATL in my blood, You be fightin’ paparazzi, I be cool in the club. I built a whole wave with my brothers, that’s fact, You just slide on features hopin’ charts come back. Huncho vision global, I’m a trend-set king, You a superstar, yeah — but I made trap sing. 

[Verse 5 – Chris Brown] Drama or not, I still drop a hundred songs, Every album a buffet, whole catalog strong. You talkin’ culture? I been culture since day one, You just ad-libs and “skrrt” while the real work done. I blend R&B, rap, and pop with skill, You one tone, one lane, one trap, one drill. Respect the ATL, but Breezy’s the show, When the lights come on, everybody gon’ know. [

Verse 6 – Quavo] Everybody gon’ know? Yeah, they know the truth, Huncho built the wave for the trap youth. Offset, Takeoff, me — we the Migos flame, Without us in the game, you’d be soundin’ the same. I don’t need to dance, my chain dance for me, Flow triple-time crazy, I set trends with ease. Chris, you global, but the streets choose me, It’s ATL Huncho, crown fit properly. 

[Outro – Host voice] Vocals and moonwalks vs. ad-libs and drip, Chris Brown or Quavo — who really equip? One for the charts, one for the block, Who took the crown? You call the shot.

Fantasy Rap Battle V

Mirror of Lies

Jump Out Gang

Bass like tombs rumbling under the feast
Candles flicker on plates stained with the beast
We dine while the ruins whisper names in the smoke
And every ghost leans in for the final choke

Outside the banquet halls the echoes still bleed
Old fields hold the print where the victims concede
They served the charge with silver, we swallowed the cost
Each dish garnished with a memory long lost
The bloodline inherited by children unraised
The table set on graves where the mourners phased
We cheer for the harvest of stolen acclaim
Raise our glasses but the foundation’s the same
Massacre memorial in the back of the mind
A feast of sorrow served to humankind
When the laughter rings high, look below the crust
See the tomb-stone markers in the dust
Our ancestors whispered, now we chant their refrain
We dine on the ruin, we bless the domain

We eat on ruins, every plate holds a ghost
Crying prayers where the bullets were host
Massacre memory, the harvest of blame
Each meal a monument carved in flame

The banquet spreads wide, the legacy cold
Bones under linen in stories untold
They carved the borders, they sealed the fate
We carry the ghosts while they celebrate
Eyes in the darkness, voices in the wind
The table keepers blind to what they begin
We march in the shadow of the screams unheard
Hands raised in thanks while the truth is blurred
The scar remains fresh though the print is faint
Blood rubs off slow but the soul still paints
The price was paid not with gold but our lives
We dine at the table built on their cries

We eat on ruins, every plate holds a ghost
Crying prayers where the bullets were host
Massacre memory, the harvest of blame
Each meal a monument carved in flame

Skulls under china, guns under glass
Echoes of footsteps in corridors past
Whispers of mothers whose children never came home
Feasts for the victors, graves for the bone
Ceremonies silent, drums in the night
Every shot memorised, every wrong in the sight
We’re heirs of the massacre, legacy defined
By the blood in our veins and the scars in our minds
No masks on the faces, no lies in the creed
We chant the cry of the fallen, the hearts that still bleed
Hear the bass like a heartbeat under the wall
See the ghost in each corner, hear the memory call
We dine on the ruins, we cradle the pain
Until the table breaks, until we reclaim

We eat on ruins, every plate holds a ghost
Crying prayers where the bullets were host
Massacre memory, the harvest of blame
Each meal a monument carved in flame

Let the bass tremble for the names unsung
Let the table tremble when the truth is done
Massacre memory flows in our veins
We hold their voice, till we break the chains

Massacre Memory

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