Funkmaster Flex just dropped Joell Ortiz's response to Kendrick Lamar and his "Control" verse, called "Outta Control." It's an insane rebuttal from the Brooklyn MC, who goes in on Kendrick's claim that he's the King of New York.

Joell reps Slaughterhouse and hip-hop, and says:

"I ain't even got to give this too much thought

Joell Ortiz won every war that he ever fought

This ain't no different, I'm listening, you the King of New York?

Little homie you ain't the king of New York

You the next thing on my fork

The messenger with all them rings on that horse

Carrying king's heads 'til I kick you in the chest and you cough

And fall into a bottomless pit

Homie, you know how many bodies that fit?

When we met you said, 'It's an honor man, the Yaowa can spit.'

Maybe that's why you left me out of that shit

Maybe that's why the Slaugtherhouse ain't get dissed

Or maybe I'm not on your radar, you feel you ain't gotta acknowledge my clique.

Either way I personal train this beat, it got to get ripped

You rich rappers can’t respond with all the dollars you get

Gangster rappers can’t retaliate with hollows and clips

And you fashion rappers wear the kind of jeans that hardly can zip

So zip it, I got this shit real hip-hop in this bitch.

The apocalypse has fell upon us, watch the zombies I split

The walking dead, I’ve been a monster shorty, I can get bit

And then return, I’m immune to these rappers ya’ll calling sick

I stomp the red carpet holding my dick

And throw tomatoes at the podium for wack awards that ya’ll niggas get

Then stand up and scream, ‘Yaowa,’ then dip and smack a legend on the way out of that bitch ’Cause I don’t big up the elite

The elite can get it too, ya’ll all fit under my feet

Ya’ll all victims, all chitlins when a nigga trying to eat

I see to it ya’ll all missing like a wino nigga’s teeth

Anybody can get it, old nigga, new nigga

Him nigga, you nigga, one nigga, two niggas

A few niggas, I do niggas harm with these bars

It was brave, you took a chance like Monopoly cars

But that telly you trying to to check in, boy that property’s ours

Can’t get a W on Broadway, I’m New York all day

Yeah that’s where the boy stay, don’t you hear that? Oy Ye’

A hundred ‘Ricans running at you, chief like a..

Last time in Compton I was kicking it with Jorge

I rock with some cons out West like the boy ‘Ye

But I don’t claim king, even though my name ring

And I had China in the bay, we call it Beijing

Rodeo to ‘Dego they telling you the same thing

Chico be in Sacramento so much he can claim king

But that’s the West Coast, I’m from this coast

I’ll leave the king of L.A. to Dre, I was this close

To staying Aftermath, but lamped out like genie

But Dre, you a fucking gangster and ... you’re such a sweetie

And guess what? I’m a free agent again if ya’ll ever need me

But back to these bars, I’m hungry, this beat is going to feed the needy

I look at it like granny’s ‘ziti, zucchini out in Tahiti

On Fiji, with Erykah Badu’s booty in a bikini

Your main chick is a Precious, my side chick is a Ri Ri

I fuck her then take her out for fries and a Panini

I ain’t a rap nigga, I’m a nigga that rap

Before this, I sort of cyphered, I ain’t bringing that back

Why should I recycle bars when my mind is a flight to Mars

And the force that I come across is like rhyming inside a star

With the universe on my back, your human verses is wack

I grab my extraterrestrial testicles when I rap

And tell the earth suck it, tell the planet try it

I turn this bitch to Independence Day without the lucky drunk pilot

I love competition, constructing the composition of destruction

Putting Destructicons in the composition

I’m Optimus Prime, trucking your boulevard, just wishing

That a star screams so I can go on an embalming mission

You raised the bar high, I set the bar higher

You going to learn, the inferno scorch up on fire”

Listen to it below:

[via In Flex We Trust]

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