Chilla Jones vs. Danny Myers [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Chilla Jones]
New York I’m back, fresh off of bodying Prep, did y’all miss me?
I heard Danny get punch drunk in bar fights, leavin niggas all tipsy
So I’m supposed to be scared to let the Bar God get me?
Well, call me the Bar Devil
‘Cause what I say tend to hit and you’ll loose if a bar miss me!
This what gets me. He aiight. Good bars, nice performance
But y’all amp em like a champion
Y’all treat him like he Michael Jordan
Well I’ma put you in this plain black box, like a flight recording
Ay, ARP… I hope this nigga got life insurance
‘Cause tonight we warring.I don’t care if it’s a gat by ya
I’ll aim the nine, flame his spine: that’s when it back-fired
He’ll hit the ground, then I’ll stand over that clown like
“I did you bad, Myers”
And be the nigga he looking up to, since I’m who he ad-mires
Now if there was a billboard, for overhyped battlers
You would be in that ad, Myers
You said you punch in 90% of your bars
But use 2 bar setups, hmm… can you add, Myers?
Well I’ma bag Myers. Homie sound pathetic on wax
I’ll run up in his studio, you could bet that I’m strapped
Open the door to the booth and throw lead in your back
Now that’s my way, of stopping a nigga dead in his tracks
Matter fact, I got a right for you. Come and get this hook from me
Side note: you look ugly
And how you never got paid for these battles you book, dummy?
Now trust me, I’m good money
Homie, you Shang Tsung
Trying to be the sole owner of a style you took from me
This crook funny
He brought the D.A. to NY so I waited till his ride came through
Jumped in the V and made ‘em see K’s between his two eyes
And left shells beside they shoes
Now two bars ago, I spelled his fucking name out…
And you know it, ‘cause you got the mind frame to
But what you probably didn’t notice is in the bar after that
I spelled your wife’s name too!
This what I do. The burner hold rounds like a disc maker
Get Black buried over games like it’s Brick Breaker
You got me in my old zone; that’s big danger
Machete chop em at the watch; I’m a wrist-taker
They mistake this kid for a mad scientist
Dr. Jekyll, with a split personality but I hide the shit
You pussy. Open this vagina lips you’ll find a clit
This is light, but seeing son die’ll show niggas what time it is
And why insist I got my style from a S.O.N. nigga? Jones is smart
I ain’t falling for that stunt, so how niggas figure I’m Owen Hart?
I came to set this bitch on fire, like Joan of Ark
On a poll he in the lead
But I’m breaking every bone apart!
I know I’m sharp. On a one to ten scale I’m a fucking million
I’m something brilliant. Battle rap’s Russell Wilson
But not ‘cause I’m destined to be a legend after big moves to come
But ‘cause even though I see errors in my present
I’ll be fathering the future, son
Now shoot your gun. It’s lights out if I blow the flame
A shot in your mouth’ll numb your jaw like novocaine
In Phoenix, you told Chaz you brought that “Ch” to “AZ”
Well I shouldn’t have to load and aim and let that toaster bang
To show you my “Ch” iller, you know the name
I control the game
So you might’ve battled dudes who sound like me
But you ain’t never stood in front of three rounds like these. Bosstown

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
I was reading an article about you, it said “Chilla Jones: Top Pen”
And I can’t even tell you the rest, cause I stopped then
I mock men, sneak up on ’em cause his people wildin’ out
Then plug in the back of his head like Neo dialin’ out
Him beating me? Nigga keep dreamin’
You just gone keep schemin’
Before there was Scheme Street, me and my niggas was in the streets scheming
Streets fiendin’ to see two beast demons’ damn writin’
We lock horns like rams fightin’. I’m fast enough to can lightening
I should let the hands strike em, open palm like I’m slap boxin’
This is when Bruce Lee was fighting Chuck Norris…with the cat watchin’
Rap’s his profession; I had to invest in a crack option
Seven shots in rapid succession from a black Datsun
Chilla be pointing niggas out in the crowd: he Matlockin’!
He better make sure he lock in Homes, I’m a black Watson
I swear, I’m from where there were no necks they spared
The night was illuminated by the TECs they flared
Ironically, due to lack of male (mail) in the house
Niggas had to grow up overnight or get next day aired!
Chilla’s a snitch, real shit, so when I cock it, he’s a corpse
I don’t care if I’m with my kids and he’s spotted from the porch
Those coke sales were plotted from my thoughts
How I get that Benz? He know (Benzino), Boston cops got it from The Source
You’re getting your career stretched; you ain’t nowhere near vet
This tough act I ain’t worried about, that gun talk is mere threats
I got a gun so big…that when I catch you
I gotta let you slide, cause the train it’s on ain’t even here yet
Fear death. slugs push and leave a thug shook
That mini gun got me walking like I was born with a clubbed foot
Bitch nigga my whole mob stuntin’, everyone of ’em five dumpin’;
Paramedics’ll have to use pressure and apply everywhere like they job huntin’
I know Boston got gangs, but I ain’t tripping cause I’m toy popping
Throw them sets up, we ride through and pick at (picket) signs like we boycottin’
I’m doing you how a boss should do; this gon be a loss for you
They can’t keep this puncher in a cage;
You know how much that would cost a zoo?
Bar God!
I’ll give him that two jab concussion
Its not the college in Boston when I give you mass (UMass) destruction
Let me catch him with the mother of his child. you gon see him stretched
First I’ll lock up king pen, then ya B.M. F’ed
But run up on me, you’ll receive the biggest reception
Bullets’ll change your facial features when you witness protection
I’m the truth, bitch. I’ll grab the A.K. and get his roof split
I’m accurate with them sticks like Rain Man with the
My .9’s peel, every one of my lines real
The way we’ll bust Jerome you’ll think we on Heinz field
This strap is like when a girl invites you to watch Netflix
‘cause when I add extensions
Bullets coming over to Chill with bad intentions
You’ve made rash decisions, and you on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got another two rounds of this shit!

[Round 2: Chilla Jones]
So you told Danja, “Being from the West and killing the East is what I encompass.”
And you call yourself a fuckin’ writer?
I mean, that was a dope concept, but poor execution
I would’ve thought of something tighter
Like every round, I end (N) on top, and leave niggas right on E
If you ever say I lost you’s a fuckin liar
How could you rank me at the bottom, S-pecially when every battle I left with the W
‘Cause my schemes encompass fire?!
Myers, this battle is your test
Let’s see if you can make it out
If you pass, this could be 2015’s greatest bout
But if you fail, I’ll put a blade through your stomach, and take your navel out
Get caught cheating, I’mma hold it against you like a faithful spouse
Then slice your shit, then give you the replay pronto
Killer Instinct with punches: I’m T.J. Combo
Two cans, for you and your man, if he say dram, bro
I’m clicking on y’all both like a three-way convo
My squad gon’ get it in
And you’ll hear more gunshots during his round than Jon Dough editing
Steppin’ into your trap spot, them Glocks we make it clap
So guard all the buddha y’all weigh, or we takin’ that
God, Allah, Buddha, Yahweh — that’s a divine scheme
I had to make it clear for my pupil like Visine
My team? It’s a lot of us, don’t bother us
I’m trying to help this square get the picture like monitors
So watch your men or a flame lighting like Hanukkah
They lift your soul, then shoo’ with the hammer like cobblers
Watch how fast the room’a (rumor) spread like gossipers
Once shots sail on your shirt like Nautica
Taking me was Gothika: a very wrong plan
Just a scary movie made to get buried on cam
Damn. What you expected? Accept it, I’m spectacular
You’ll get put in a coffin, Danny, the next Dracula
Now bar-for-bar, you think you the best battler
The king author? ‘Cause you handled X caliber?
Or ‘cause it took your 3 best rounds to compete with Danja’s?
Well everything I’m speaking cold: that’s a secret language
My main bitch, she don’t act like a lady
Come at me sideways if you want. She’ll be clappin that 80
If his direct at me (hysterectomy), she ain’t having it, baby
Now.. If y’all don’t know what a hysterectomy is, just wait it out
The next two, I’ma explain what the wordplay’s about
You took me and Danja back to back. You the bravest scout
Thought you was pussy. I ain’t expect you to risk (uterus) being taken out
Invade his house. From any angle I’m certain to kill shit
Show you how to arc a TEC (architect): I’m the person to build with
If it’s beef and you the cause, B, I’m lurking to peel shit
Mentally, I’m plain sick with a terminal illness
This is realness
They say I lost to DNA: they had me wrong
That was a bag: just over heads, but carry on!
Soon as I clap he gone, nigga the Bloque is riders
Let you name a Top 5…. You ain’t a starter, Myers
This is stardom, Myers. Y’all brought a star to Myers
For his career to die in New York like Stoudamire’s?
I spark and fire, them cans get dumped, them hands could bump
Your back left with random lumps like camel humps;
Danny we could let it “bow” in the ring, but why handle guns?
When it’s Karate, kid, I’ll kick punches to get Daniel sonned
You already know you on the ground with this shit
This wack emcee got a whole nother round of this shit. Yikes

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
Your whole career, niggas complained about that borin’ shit
Well I could give him nine to five, that’ll make his whole mornin’ shift
Usually got the P89 with me, but if we get into a slug fest
I’ma use the homie P (pee) like I’m trying to pass a drug test
The iron’ll squeeze
You Mark Wahlberg: by the time you realize what’s Happening, you’ll die in a breeze
Bitch, I’ll shoot your mama and yo’ daddy. I’m creeping up where their home is
Bullets gon out do ’em, they keeping up with the Joneses
I gave your bitch my bottle of Henny; I bend these hoes
She sucked me in the front seat of yo car; again she bold
She swallowed Dan Brown, so when I made her moan
A least a ho let me nut all over the Vin; she cold. (Da Vinci Code)
Bar God!
It’s Mortal Kombat when they get me
Cause they never see the punches coming at ‘em like Kenshi
But back to your bitch, that tramp is a Boston skeezer
They said her head is past a ten, that’s why I went off to meet her (off the meter)
Your mixtape? Wack as fuck! Not a single song I ain’t feel once
I’ll raise a arm here (hair) if y’all like the songs that Chill bumps
I’m too cold. I got a crazy maggie
And five other small ones, but I really only fuck with two of ‘em like a baby daddy
I’ll run up and pop the chrome
The first thing his man’ll do is
Pick him up and look at the face like when you drop your phone
We’ll get guns you could hold in your hand, and some you carry over
Then we’ll surround this nigga spot like an areola
You’ll get buried soldier, every day I’m carrying chrome
My aura exudes to you a nefarious tone
You get with bitches online, then you carry them home
We ran track meets on the bitch who’s marryin’ (Marion) Jones
You took my punches and mixed em with yo’ schemes
And you don’t see nothing wrong about it
I ‘Gave You Power’, I’ll pull this gun and Nas’ll write a song about it
Bar God!
Banana clip hanging out of the K, you gon meet with shots
You’ll see this half moon in the middle of the day; that’s a Equinox
You think the beefin’ stops? I’ll break your face in seconds
Gun butt you til the stock destroyed, your family be in a great depression
Let me catch you with your homeboy. I real quick burst toolies
You’ll be sleeping with your man like Will Smith first movie
I’m cold as Six Degrees; this the Separation before the tool peel
Steel click (still clique) like when you break up with a bitch but y’all cool still
Don’t be a fool Chill, you coming at me with this rookie shit
You seen how many niggas on cam’ I to’
From all the weak rhymes them pussies print
Cam I to’, camel toe, that’s a reach, but that’s the thing I’m slangin’
But then again, when you reaching with the pussy that’s finger bangin’
You’ll see my finger bangin’!
Head shot; when they seen it, his men skirted
The right stick have him thinking up is down like he inverted
Bar God!
But yo! Guess who got shot in the dome piece?
Jerome’s niece on her way home from Jones beach
I’m Illmatic, and you on the ground with this shit;
This wack emcee got a whole nother round of this shit

[Round 3: Chilla Jones]
I paid JC 600 dollars. Made a classic. Shit’s straight perfect
You paid Rex twelve racks. For one fire round and two mixtape verses
I mean, twelve racks? I mean, I’ll never call you a cheap bastard
But we all know, all you want in this game is elite status
But for twelve racks? You could’ve battled Daylyt, Big Kannon and B. Magic
And traded that one weak battle for three classics, but lemme ask this:
Where the fuck, was your manager, when you thought about this stupid plan?
How the fuck was paying Rex twelve racks supposed to improve your brand?
Yeah, you’se a man, with ten kids, but this is where you lose as a father
‘cause do you know what twelve racks could do for a son or do for a daughter?
That’s groceries for a year. That money coulda kept food in the fridge
That’s four months rent, plus furniture. Something new for the crib
That’s Disneyland for the summer, somethin special for you and your kid
That’s emergency money, in case you end up doin a bid
But you ain’t put your fam first. You gave that money to Rex
You never paid dues, you paid dudes for your fuckin respect
I don’t take it as disrespect when niggas ask me where my style is at
‘cause I’d rather spend that money making sure my child’s intact
This is real shit. Could give a fuck if the crowd react
But I’m the motherfuckin KingPen, Danny
It’s time to show you why they crowned me that
Today’s your burial. I’m the KingPen, your games imperial
I’m fuckin sick. It ain’t venereal. You ain’t ready, bro
Homie I ain’t horsin’ around, this ain’t a merry-go
Give his Pops Smacks over checks(Chex), it ain’t a cereal
Rounds coming out of these cans, they ain’t spaghetti o’s;
I flip and catch bodies in the ring like Rey Mysterio
Think a stereo: I could set(cassette) it on Danny and make a tool pop
I got a new ox(AUX), and see these(CD’s) weapons gonna make dude stop
I’m the type to come to your funeral as the tomb drop
And throw dynamite in your casket. Now it’s a boombox
Let him park on the strip while I’m standing on the rooftop
He get stretched, pulling up under these caps like tube socks
I’m too hot. This is haymakers and quick jabs
They said you’d never take a loss to me(colostomy);
Now you getting your shit bagged
I’ll have goons pull up dumping hammers with crip rags
And just for my amusement, park, repping them Six flags
So get mad. Scream, nigga. Run around the whole stage
You’ll probably be the first battler to die of old age
I outline everybody. Then they disappear with no trace
When I bare(beer) cans and hit his six pack, that’s a cold case
Twin four-fours, that belong together like soulmates
I let ‘em point, and scream out the window like road rage
Toast blaze. Hella chrome, clicking like a metronome
Can to his ear like kids playing telephone
Newsflash: We ran through your wife, and we was getting dome
We was training that tongue better than Rosetta Stone
Your last battle? 2-1 classic, I gave the edge to Zone
‘Cause with a nigga like Danja, you can’t just squeeze past em, you need action
You gotta put that K in front of Carter. If he reverse then retrack him
Then keep blackin, wait. Most of y’all ain’t even peep that
Put a K in front of Carter, then reverse it, it spells retrack
But I’ma relax. I’m only here to slump my next victim
Y’all really thought he could overcome my best writtens?
Think Fetty Wap, he bout to be the one I(eye) left missing
‘cause living? You can’t here(hear) Danny, this a death(deaf) mission
I’m a vet spittin. What you know about the game?
Jones rounds insane, make him scream his slogan out in pain
Your death tonight and Bobbi Kristina’s both about the same
‘cause this was suicide, and now your life is going down the drain
The crown remains with the KingPen, and that’s why you losing now
Against Mister Jump-to-Top-Tier-from-the-Proving-Grounds. Boss Town

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
This nigga’s a false prophet. I felt he was a villain with a hunch
That’s why I’m coming to Jones Town to kill him with a punch
After this, you ain’t doing no more battles
The silhouette of my gun should’ve been a .4 (fore)shadow
Chilla’s a workin man; I’ll run up in his damn office
Blow off both his legs; I come across stand offish
You dead here, you gone be a martyr to your daughter
This cat suited to be a pussy like Shitara
I’ll call you a hoe holding a sword, your skin, I’ll get under that
This lion’ll (Lionel) leave you in a West Brook
That’s how you scheme with the Thundercat
You fuckin’ wack, I’ll kidnap you in Boston; I’m really with the schemes
The silencer won’t say a word; you’ll really miss the (Mr.) Bean
My team realan’, ct no fuckin’ man scare us
Gun out the guitar case if you flashing a band, dare us (Banderas)
I’m from a damn era where rap words got a rival shot
Big L was still spittin’, and Big Pun had the goggles cocked
Souls of Mischief was banging from every car ride
And west coast lyricists was trying to make it to the far side (Pharcyde)
But here we are god, top pen games, you’ll get your body burned
Niggas ain’t seen a better writer since Tommy Hearns
As far as I’m concerned, this fag I gots to snipe
This bitch just doesn’t get it like Magic Johnson wife
The irony in that line is crazy! They thought we was the same
But I’m the only sick one, even though we’re contracted to let blood exchange
Bar God!
Fuck Boss Town, I’ll ride through your city and provide Hecklers
You’ll see .22 coming out the Blazer like Clyde Drexler
I’ll side step ya. Break you off with a couple of rights
I talk to niggas, you better come at a Brother polite (Polight)
I’d never run from a fight. I gave it all I had
If a nigga want to get me to (meter) running he better call a cab
I’ll put you in a Boston Crab, then let the choppa spit
I’ll put a hole, inside of this hoe, that’s the size of a whole lotta shit
Drama shit, he want a war, now we want a war
But if all my niggas came in Chevys, how could you think we on one Accord?
Bar God!
Daylyt started the schemes and you stole it., you a damn smoker
I write scripts for niggas who bite: I’m Bram Stoker
I’ll hand choke ya I ain’t the one you should call out, boy
You’ll get rocked with metal ’til you Fall Out, Boy
You think I give a fuck about that 12K? I hustle, nigga, I see paper
Keanu Reeves hit my phone cause he heard I was the Key (ki) Maker
But you come up with all these genius schemes to set fire to the wraps
I had to open up them bricks, then set fire to the wraps
This nigga Myers finna snap on this nerd geek, word freak
Nigga get on, Writers Bloque the only block you ever been on
Listen scrap, skip the raps on how your fifth’ll clap
These pussies only act animated cause I’m a risk to cats. (Aristocats)
It’s a difference, black, this notepad is my home
In this battle shit, I’m the baddest guy known
I honed him in on the fifth floor, so if Jerome’s in the house
We’ll catch him by his window, drag and fly (Dragonfly) Jones
Little fag this is my throne
And you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord he don’t got another round of this shit

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s