Recap: Syah stays competitive with some nice name flips, (“They ain’t really want me to Black here, this some Oscar shit!”; “You should hire a new manager and stop staring at me for real, matter fact hire Norbes, at least he can tell you what can happen over a grill!”) punches and winsome (“Any thoughts of running up on me, just dead it now, I sleep with more .45’s [4, 5’s] and .9’s [9’s] than a pedophile!”) gun bars throughout his three rounds. But other than a close 2nd, none of Syah’s turns could stand up to Chef Trez’s ever-flowing (“Your mom’s mom dead, for grams of 40…moon rocks!”) heat and rich performance. Indeed, a constant barrage of fiery personals, frenzied (“You only talk, you ain’t about action, I know what dog ’bout, like a freak bitch on her period, you all mouth!”) haymakers, dope set-ups and fluorescent (“The gat spitting, but when this bitch touch you, you won’t catch feelings, I told him I’mma hit you with a clean nina, but gave him a dirty .40…I’m cat-fishing!”) wordplay that reminded us all that Trez more than belongs on the big stage–and that’s no gassin’.
Verdict: Chef Trez (W) 3-0
Favorite line: Chef Trez – “You been battling for how long and still got no fame?!, you John John Homeboy nigga…that’s your name!”
