Danny Myers vs. Cali Smoov [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Cali Smoov]
L.A. what up?!
Let me guess, you gon’ be the sixth nigga with twerk jokes and fake personals, but I’m more known for my genius
See I already knew, Daniel stories, it was foretold in Ephesians
You say the most abstract lines and these leagues pay you for it
{Danny impression} I’ll put a prison on Mars, cause my bars are outta this world” and y’all niggas go crazy for it
I say stuff like, I’m an entrepreneur
I took myself to those limits then I test those odds
A street legend, the vets labeled me the “west coast Nas”
Cause he conscious, they peep the message in the bars
But feel passion, but block bread regardless, they know I started with a steel ‘matic (Stillmatic)
I’m underground, so me and my connect, only text when we see less moves
I listen to him, but I never seen his face like MF Doom
Give me my space dawg or it’s a wrong turn down Elm Street
Jason ya face off
Imagine travellin’ wit’ a burner in every city cause they shoot if ya race wrong
And I’m from the hood send they heads was based on
Trust me, I’m from a city where the cops iffy
And the block niggas rock Dickies
And the killings hot, I grew up down the street from where they shot Ricky
Unless you related from somebody big homie, it’s never good
You so hard but it’s old dawg (O Dog) from every hood
I’m tryin’ to show God I got Job’s loyalty
Make the message in my songs perfect, but this is outta biblical order
Cause you gotta get past this Mark to hear John verses
What y’all ain’t get it? My moms named me John that’s why I got Psalms worded
And I’m a star around circles Chuck, why con’ verse (Converse) it?
I keep two animals wit’ me, they make it flood, case you start beef
My whole squad bangin’
I mean, some Red and part C’s (seas)
What y’all ain’t get it? Don’t worry I ain’t gon’ slow the bar
Remember I said it was biblical talk?
Whoever ain’t get it wouldn’t know a (Noah) bar
You a lot older than me
But we from the same C
See I’m still able (Abel) to kill big brother like I got Cain’s gene
But wait, you everybody little homie, that’s how I’ma know I’ma win
Cause you let Aye Verb say he passed you the torch and you older than him
Talkin’ ’bout Mr. South Central
I find out where ya Vegas crib at and a time when I know he in it
Run in the crib and get to swingin’ on the kids like Don’t Be A Menace
I know y’all probably thought that was simple so let’s make it a triple
I said I run in his place with a .38 soon as I see ya fam’, that tre pop ten kids like Dashiki Man
This nigga be on Facebook takin’ selfies with money
Like he got wild report
But couldn’t battle Chilla out in Canada cause he owe child support
You mean to tell me, that he got $12,000 to pay Rex for a verse
But ain’t got the decency to throw ya baby mama a couple hundred on the first?
See I’m a marksman, grip the baton and pallbearer him
Oh you the “Bar God”? Well meet a barbarian
Beat him with bars or bar bury him
Take out his nose to trace out his skull to carve letters in
Take out his jaw to paint whatever’s left of his face on the wall to display it as art, I’ll John Getty him
Calm, steady been, militant, machine gun
Arms heavy like Saddam sent me to bomb any
Body that’s not from Iran’s city, go kamikaze and Nazi on all enemies
Arm enemies, only to flash back like Vietnam trilogies
Artillery, armed with an army and our energy is called symmetry
It matches from our inner G
A bar industry, cut from the cloth and we are in the streets
My thoughts vividly dark, givin’ me the smarts literally
To take apart with spark then paint every visually
When I write, it’s like God’s sittin’ wit’ me
We carve letters on the canvas together it cause symphonies
You paid to battle John John, I got paid to battle John John
My words got me this spot, you broke bread to get here
Nigga I earned my spot!
Smoov nigga!

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
They asked me, “How you gon’ beat Smoov?”
I said, “Don’t ask me for the specifics”
That .9 point break these plates then put Cali in the Pacific
I’m ground breakin’
Now this nigga think he know me
There’s a difference between bein’ in debt for $1,000 and an O.G. (owe G)
You filmed a TV show, I was like, “That’s what’s happenin’ nigga.”
But they refused to release it cause of the way you been actin’ nigga
I walk in the prison, I’m the one they flex they grizzle at
He walk in the prison he the one niggas whistle at
Soon as I catch him slippin’ I let the pistol clap
Try to block these bullets ya arm look like a wiffle bat
I’m official black, I shoot him in front of a flock of haters
His mom will be shot at
She’ll be talkin’ ’bout Smoov (Smooth) to the Operator
Bar God!
My nigga got stabbed at Crenshaw
We was trapped around war and demons
That homie seen that ‘Shaw shank (Shawshank) without Morgan Freeman
You from Chicago, this is not yo’ scene
I was west before niggas was servin’ dimes out they Paco jeans
So y’all got this Cali nigga versus a real Cali nigga
Monster Kody used to write about my daddy, nigga
Caught my bitch wit’ my other baby daddy, nigga
Put the burner in his mouth, threw the pistol in the alley nigga
White, female cop drew on me with the gauge
Not only am I older I’m from a different age
Any beef I’m quick to shoot ya ass
I look at my gun as a present every since the future past
You a bootleg Nip$ey
It’s only right I give this fake nigga 60
Lord knows that I’m tryin’ to leave the streets alone
I done did some shit I don’t wanna up on
So I called God, He reminds me that Jesus in the background like they got me on speakerphone
This whole west coast nigga, that’s the team I lead
I took the belt with unorthodox punches like Naseem Hamed
But check this, let’s go with a couple facts nigga
I sell heron, I sell crystal, I sell crack nigga
I sell weed, I sell soft, I sell gats nigga
I keep tellin’ y’all I’m not one of these fuckin’ rap niggas
But you did two days in jail with Billy Boondocks
Got bailed out now all a sudden you 2Pac
Pretty boy, see all that model shit is him
I’m a criminal posin’ as a model citizen
Hollow enter him
On a residential street no room for two, ain’t no shit about bein’ presidential sweet (suite)
Oh wait, you thought I was gonna come in here with the bars flips?
Nigga I got so much coke comin’ off the boat it’ll probably the barge flip
Bar shit, I’ll pistol whip you, you get car jacked
The metal go across his eyes like the black nigga from Star Trek
We all strapped, I run up on him with the tools hailing
Throw his dead body in a life raft, we call that shit Smoov (smooth) sailing
Watch how this female move when They Reminisce Over You, you ’bout to see L’s Smoov (CL Smooth)
I’m no assassin
I run in his house with a few specialists
John Paul ’bout to meet John and Paul from the New Testament
You do music, right?
I catch you and your DJ at a pit stop
Wrap the rag around the handle, I ain’t comin’ after your wristwatch
Break yo’ self, let’s hear the beat box in yo’ heart after you get knocked
And spray the sub like I’m taggin’, that’s the five elements of hip hop
Wait, wait, wait, wait: DJ, rap, break beat, “spray the sub” that’s graffiti
I’m old school, how the fuck these young niggas gon’ beat me?
With you? All my homeboys got trust issues
You Whoopi Goldberg, I ain’t never heard a nigga say he wanna fuck wit’ you
But at the end of the day, we both rep’ the west so I’m stuck witchu
Hit you with a crescent wrench, this rapper breast implant, watch how them bucks lift you
We was supposed to do the Proving Ground together, but you backed out and I took the flight
You was supposed to battle Dice Rolla, but you didn’t cause he know (casino) you shook of Dice
What it’s lookin’ like?
They like “Cali stupid”, he know you the truth
It’s hurtin’ me to kill money, I feel like Nino on the roof
This my brother y’all, I’ll always be my brother’s keeper
But when disloyalty comes from within I got to use the other sweeper
I had to address you in front of the masses like a public speaker
You a puppet I had to pull strings for like Cousin Skeeter
You fuckin’ diva
If I hurt ya bitch ass feelings, then I meant to
I had to defend you and unbiased every time them niggas sent you
Big gun, seven shots, all the holes went through
Aired him out, sometimes you just need to vent to
Bar God!
And you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord you ain’t got another round of this shit

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