[Verse 1]
If every rapper is a fire breathing dragon, I'm a
Taste acquired, a dragon breathing fire
Whose irises occupy the ire of a lion made of iron
A tyrant with the temper of a giant on the mic
The new millennium is already Orwellian
Less than twenty in, America went Machiavellian and
It's like a jungle sometimes, I fuckin' wonder
What will I say to my kids when I tuck 'em under the covers?
How about, "Let's Make America Great Again!"
Murder officials, reissue it all to the Native men and women
Whoa! Was that a threat to a Pres?
With criminal intent to embed hot lead in its head?
Well hey, I can't be held accountable for what I said or what I say
If you get it, then you with it, you okay
If you didn't then forget it, you can lick my Phillip K.
Okay? If it's bad as me, it's Capital B

[Chorus]
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
Patrick Motherfucking Battle
 
[Verse 2]
You can pass judgment on motherfuckers holding the guns
But son, niggas ain't dumb, we rock opposable thumbs
We recognize society's affront to our bodies
Commodities to European model economies
So "Violence ain't the answer" type slackers - Wrap it up
You embarrass me, back it up, fetch the kerosene
You parrots seem to have forgotten your language
Can't explain it either way, but I just wanna reclaim it
Why I'm back with an album I barely even can fathom
To recapture the blackest factors of being combative
A combination of magic with tragic habits to mask it
Pat cannot relax until you rappers burn to ashes
You mingle with the lingo and Bingo! You got a single
Go pop 'cause the fun don't stop like...
Greasy motherfuckers, always placing a product
Is that how you was brought up? Motherfucker I ain't bought up, I

[Chorus]
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
Patrick Motherfucking Battle
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
B-A-T-T-L-E POWER
Battle Motherfucking Power

[Verse 3]
Rap bloggers bother me
The content they offer's fucking weak
Weak prose for weak posers on weak beats
I tune in every week to see if it's hit its peak
But every time I fucking blink, I find myself falling asleep
They oughta borrow revolvers - From their fathers for starters
And blow their brains out from the cranium to the collar
I bet a million dollars their followers couldn't conjure up a reason
Why they let these hipster FUCKS try to lead 'em
To be candid, we don't need 'em, we can write our own rules again
Bring back the hooligan in youth out the human man
Feel good rappers be repetitive as reruns
Yeah I used to be one, so I know one when I see one
I don't really fuck with you - Don't they make enough of you?
What're you? Number two-thousand-two-hundred and twenty-two?
What I'm trying to do is bring a challenge to the balance
I don't rep the streets, I rep the motherfucking madness
You passionate for this? Or wanna climb up a chart?
Y'all can play Hip-Hopoly while I'm here minding my art
Rhyming up and down these beats screaming "Fuck the police"
While rappers got these blogger's balls fucking stuck in they teeth
Now please report your mic to your master or your pastor
They'll return it you wrapped in a napkin after the rapture
Put it out to pasture - I'm tasked with the chore
Of encouraging the wack to go as ghost as Casper
I don't follow fools, fools follow rules
You dudes follow rules, so I don't follow yous
If I see a Molotov on the floor, motherfucker what the fuck I'm gone do?
Pick It Up, Pick It Up
While you bending rap over, dick to butt to get a nut
Trying to live it up I'm burning down your hut with just a blunt
Come on, be up front, whose growth can't y'all stunt?
Pat Motherfuckin' Battle - Wh-Wha, What, What?