Xcel vs. Danny Myers [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Xcel]
After I killed Daylyt, this nigga called me broke in the heart
Like, “X I gotta avenge Day’,” straight provokin’ my thoughts
But his death, was my start
You ain’t notice the plot how I kill these west natives like I’m Lois and Clark?
Get broken, in parts, with disrespect
When I’m enforcin’ you’ll be bored still, cold, in a morgue bitch
It’s Team Homi, we not the ones to go to war wit’
We make the news and I think Dan Rather report shit
And cop endorsements? I really ain’t havin’ that
Talk crazy beef, I’ll bring mad cals (cows) this cat will snap
Two choices, after that
Either your gat will clap or flee or shots running back like tattle tats
I’ve been distracted, that caused me to write some average raps
And have debateables when I should’ve been trashin’ cats
That also caused the fans to question where my path is at
So I have to whip God to show my passion back
I have a Shaq attack, post up, bang and basket down
Skinny but obese on the street, that’s cause I’m packin’ pounds
You act tough, then you come you get a wrap around


[Round 1: Danny Myers]
I’ll break a wooden bat across his head…just to Splinter ‘Cel (Cell)
Bullets will do life in his body soon as they enter ‘Cel (cell)
I send a shell, I’m a demon, he can’t be badder
Give me space cause once she see this black hole not even your auntie (anti) matters
Fuck top tier, popularity or who’s the savviest
This about bars, not the money or who’s the flashiest
At a point I was homeless so that should let you know I Will, Smith you in my Pursuit Of Happyness
But I’ma still give him his props cause he was homeless too, so you shouldn’t mind to live in a box
I’m tired of shootin’ niggas, tryin’ to put the gun down before it’s his turn
Tried to convince my Tre not to leave the house like Laurence Fishburne
I’ll have a man climb through your second story window
We on the porch with them kids up flared
We kicked in the do’, everybody got they hands up scared
He fled to the second floor
Now how ironic he ’bout to be sent to Heaven by the man upstairs
Me fuckin’ his bitch is like a jail case
Cause we both be sharin’ a box with ‘Cel (cell) mate
We open cans at the back of his whip like a tailgate
He’ll find his bitch stiff on the floor that’s a stale mate
Yo’ white fans love you, they’re amazed you can spit this well
Ironic cause it’s only the blacks that’s gettin’ sick of ‘Cel (Sickle Cell)
I spit the shells, handle beef on the spot, I don’t take time
I flashed the nine so many times I should be on Dateline
When I zone in, I make grown men bones bend
Every figure hard in my circle welcome to Stonehenge
You one dimensional, how can there be limits with a god?
You Cesare Borgia you just portray the image of a god
But it’s cool, he catchin’ all razor blades when my squad spot him
They only gon’ find 5% of the god body
You look like you smoke crystal, well I got some shards and some rocks to bring ya
If I show him a pipe I bet his lungs hit the glass like an opera singer
Gang life, we live blocks from where our rivals stay
My Crip uncles reigned as the Loc-est (locus) without the Bible plague
You in survival stage
When it’s war, my niggas go for the stock
Arms wrestle for your life but that might be Over The Top
You’ll be uncomfortable, five inch blade I’m comin’ to puncture you
I gave him eleven sharp I told the nigga I’m punctual
God of battlin’, greatest ever, these are the words that define me
In my past, I did some shit that was certainly grimy
I shot a nigga seven times
Even though I threw the bird over my shoulder I can’t put the murder behind me
This a homi, like the Jason flick and all of those damn sequels
I’m at yo’ front do’ with a Posse like Mario Van Peebles
I take him to the edge of a mountain, I’ma hold his neck
In order for me to move on with my life I’ma have to let go of ex (X)
I’ll blow the TEC and you on the ground wit’ this shit
This wack MC got another two rounds of this shit

[Round 2: Xcel]
I said this been long awaited, anticipated, this what they paid to see
The Bar God vs the god in the flesh, they gave the date to me
I watched and studied to kill a Myers (Meyers) like I was Jamie Lee
To master my associates, lyrically upgrade degrees
But you takin’ me? You must not have a Full House, Danny, you crazy as fuck
You think I won’t pull out swammies, my code simple
Hust see you take clips and load into Mary-Kate and Ashley, then squeeze, put O’s in you
O’s in, Olsen? Slight reach, but who gives a fuck?
I did that to prove a point, cause Danny
How you give it up is not good, but you my G
So I’ll be honest, most of us stretch words, you stretch entire concepts
Your ideas is IKEA, manufactured garbage
In my process I tried some of your nonsense like, “I’ll put a tree bark in ya soda can
Fuck what you would (wood) do
Cause I’m a champion, dancin’ on a car, I make hood moves
Bar God!”
Then y’all scream “Yikes” like that was good, dude
Here’s a good tool I think you could use
It’s called discretion
Think Avocado, stop, pause and edit
Cause what’s the point of all them punches if they non effective
It’s constructive criticism I give him, it just helps cause some connect
But most of that shit should get shelved
This is a pet peeve, I had to tell you this for myself
That Twix on TV’s don’t channel bars, they just melt
This is tough love, and bro my intention ain’t fucked up, this an intervention
Cause Danny the Bar God is punch drunk
I mean that shit is so much that you actually became one
A punchline
I wasn’t gon’ mention that 12K son
But you gave T-Rex from Dot Mobb 12K son for verses
Knowin’ him, they were probably mixtape ones
I like to eat, and you like takin’ a check
So ‘Ganik, fuck my other half he can pay me direct
But you’ll delusional, I figured out why you do this too
It’s not about bars, this is relivin’ your youth for you
Cause before this, nobody respected, you for you
Oh you bomb? The fuse lit, I move
Now you defused, I’m sharp
I Ginsu that image that you abuse
Take what you stand for (four) break that down, see 2 and 2
Lose to who?
Nigga fuck what the critics and all the fans will saw
Handle blades, swing to your head, it’s on my mantle place
Get an award for actin’, be nominated and in my way There Will Be Blood, and today?
Lookin’ like Daniel’s Day
Round 2, you got broke down too
See it was planned this way, call my bluff and get checked, I know the hand to play
You come here, actin’ like that and not a man delay (Mandalay)
Bet wit’ ya life, I make every nigga who gamble pay
Team Homi

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
I’m on the balcony, across the street from his house
My face pale and breathless, finger on the trigger
Eye on the scope, waitin’ for Excel to exit
It’s early, his wife in the kitchen, crackin’ egg shells and naked
He walks out, a bullet in his brain gets well connected, baow!
I’m on the balcony, across the street from his house
My face pale and breathless
Finger on the trigger, eye on the scope, waitin’ for Excel to exit
It’s early, his wife in the kitchen, crackin’ egg shells and naked
He ’bout to walk out but he stops because he smells the
He doesn’t exit
This nigga gon’ get the fuckin’ message
I repel down the side of the buildin’ within’ a couple seconds
I grab the semi, kick in his do’ put four in his head then I made his bae go (bagel) to go wit’ his eggs
Bar God!
I’m down to two shotguns left, I used to have crazy iron
So you gon’ get these last couple pumps, like when you fuckin’ and the baby cryin’
Nigga, before our spirits touch another plain
We make a cameo on his third rock like Clubber Lang
The greatest writers of our time, I took several
I studied his pen game from a crooks level
The way I see it Xcel will rate (accelerate) somewhere between bein’ gassed up and a foot pedal
Bar God!
I body slam this bitch ass nigga til the circle’s cracked
He’ll agree with the past theories that the Earth is flat
Perfect straps, you’ll see the .45 and the Glock rise
I’m writin’ your name with these bullets but I’ma let you pick the font size
Have my bread by 11:30 or face the weapons I’ve held
Or Supermax will ‘Cel (cell) 7 by 12
I leave this nigga with a hollow mind, sometimes you gotta follow signs
My nigga got shot over a watch his homie loaned him now he livin’ on borrowed time
I catch him in a casino, the tool will buck this fucker
Watch how I Trigga Da Gambler like Smoothe Da Hustler
I’m one man that can kill an army, look how I do squads
If there is a (RZA) nigga in your crew it would be you, god (U-God)
Deuce five tucked in the ankle cause it’s necessary
First I show leg then get to a higher position like a secretary
I’m legendary, I use the butt of the gun, you’ll get your shit decked
Then G, eye parrot with the shoulder like shipwreck
Get yo’ shit stretched, I put the ten on him
Your neck will get two snaps and a twist like men on film
That bitch you wit’, you love her, I feel you, she got the bomb dome
First we play wrestled then I’m bonin’ (bone in) her neck like Papa Shango
My niggas will put a cigarette out on yo’ bitch ass
Mass soldiers, that means the ass will be in the middle of your forehead like Passover
Mag’ blower, I come to Brockton to get the shit right
The hammer cocked on the strap look like the revolver tryin’ to hitchhike
Get ya shit swiped and you be on the ground wit’ this shit
This wack MC got a whole ‘nother round of this shit

[Round 3: Xcel]
Ya fans live wit’ and love yo’ trash
They rap hording, facts
When I took this match, they gave me mad warnings
Like, “Danny? Son is possessed and X, you rap borin’.”
They overlook how I’m Shining I snap like Jack Torrance
We at war then? I lock down bars
Quote for quote you die, shotty kick Dan in his head
I named it Cobra Kai, be blunt
Ride, I spark up and fishbowl ya vibe
Ironic, how closin’ yo’ casket is goin’ to open eye
See this a duel to the death [?] so let’s do it
Neutral bullets, turn this fruit cord to just fluid
Lick his crib, have my nigs hit his kids in the next room in
1D you gon’ think Rex did shootin’
Get stupid, and with these hands I break his functions
Street Fighter, Dan’s just another fakin’ puncher
Slow it down, I bet Con’ can see, I’m straight disgusting street figher
Dan was just a fake Ken punchin’
I’m a beast too, see but at times I hide it rep the Jekyll
Ya bars crazy, I’m tapped for real, son there’s levels
You use that gun so big, leave me wet with the metal
See I take a six inch blade connect ya freckles
Out in L.A., see they tricked me with time limits
But we in Mass, this my shit, I’ma rap til I’m finished
These next lines, analyze with your mind’s third eye vision
Cause you was on that same card, vs Cali Smoov dry snitchin’
You said you sell crack, you sell weed, you sell dope, coke and other unnecessary antidotes
Whoa, I mean my nigga who you convincing?
I understand you gotta tell niggas just how you get it
But that shit don’t constitute you ignoring the 5th Ammendment
But you don’t give a fuck as long as battlers let you fit in
See, you wanna be the greatest, I’ma tell you somethin’ we know
You’re not built for that position you want, you Tim Tebow
Let ya peeps know, that this death certificate that I have for you has to be signed
They gon’ do what they have to do
Predator raid a (Raider) cap until it’s capital
And write these bars for all my Niggas Wit’ Attitude
I’m tactical, I’m the new era, Hannibal Barca, dismantel a target
This bars will turn a man into a carcass
I’ll take problems and turn ’em to example and chalk
Ramble and talk and get ya cold cracked, scrabbling thoughts
I mean, you try to tell us your moves is not on street shit?
But my third eye open my nigga, I get to peep shit
Like for one: please cut all that yellin’ and screamin’
Cause we know the loudest one in the room be the weakest
So chill, when I’m here these stages is plates
Another card, another meal, put whatever at stake
Nerd rapper or street nigga, whatever the case
I eat ’em like Mikey, Life made me this way
And I know you got fans, they watchin’ like “Goddamn.”
But this nature, Bar God, death is God’s plan
Team fuckin’ Homi

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
It Ain’t Hard To Tell, I excel and pr-
Wait a minute that Nas shit, nonsense, nine’s grip
Bullets turn ’em reFugees like Pras’ clique
Get his eye slit, what’s happenin’ wit’ it?
Bitch nigga I Llama carry
Y’all gon’ see the noodles inside ‘Cel (cell) that’s commisary
Bitch, I’ll drown your child, I’m the sick type
Around midnight, you’ll see me holding your baby under water like a midwife
But props to me and you
We battled Back 2 Back and the flow be great
Cause it shouldn’t be nine months that a pro creates (procreate)
But you? Gon’ have a lonely fate
This nigga is spazzin’
I’m a reflection of sharp bars on hand like the last scene of Enter The Dragon
Yo’ scary ass won’t shoot nothin’
Since a youth I’ve kept still
Y’all would be hallucinating if you saw X’ peel (pill)
Death’s real
First you hear the burst from the Glock
Then like worshipin’ Mecca we circle the block
Stop his stunts, if I hear you and his mob is flossin’
I’ll come to The Town, you can bank on being robbed in Boston
Caution, my foes dyin’, every single one of they soul’s flyin’
He act slick, I turn blacksmith and give his load iron
My gun’s silent, go into a zone cryin’, composed violence
I make the poles shift that’ll fuck up the whole climate
I bar spit, I’m not the one you should start wit’
When you face X caliber (Excalibur) you gotta bring out the sharp shit
.45, first your best friend go
It’s not a long clip but I’ma give X’ ten though (extendo)
Name flips, see nigga I wig postal
I’m fuckin’ up his name like when parents be usin’ they kid’s social
My pen’s focal point is the places my mind looms
Anywhere my [?] I’ve been fine tuned you’ll find tombs
I define doom
My pen is beyond yours, that’s what I keep stressin’
Lyrically, I’m a cut above this pussy, that’s a C-section
[?] this Desert Eagle will end this battle now
You don’t see this big bitch for what it is like Shallow Hal
Bar God!
Me and his bitch be steady fuckin’
First I strip her naked then we record her bare (bear) like Teddy Ruxpin
They keep sayin’ how Danny Lux pen
I told Daylyt, “Fuck the Lux battle
He don’t deserve either of us ’cause he don’t got enough battles.”
But you? You the Talib Kweli of this battle shit
Intricate wordplay, your approach left
I should’ve battled you at Black Star, that place got the Mos Def
But no sweat, I creep in ya baby room while he tryin’ to rest
Stand over his crib, then hold the grunt like quiet sex
Pull out a blade, figure out how to apply it best
Then take his dead body to Baltimore and use it as a riot vest
I am next, on the list of greats
But in a twist of fate, in the midst of hate
My name will be excluded and that’s a big mistake
Xcel gon’ need his hip replaced
I air time rappers
I crack his skull in a barbershop; that’s a hairline fracture
Bar God!
And you on the ground wit’ this shit
Thank the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit

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