Charlie Clips vs. Danny Myers [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Charlie Clips]
Top ten battle rappers of 2015
And the “Bar God” didn’t even make the list
Every time you say “Bar God”
I want to walk in your kid’s birthday party, take a piss
On the cake and ice cream, stick a candle in it, and tell him make a wish
They like, “Why you disrespecting the Bar God?”
Cause what the fuck is a Bar God to a atheist?
Danny, I don’t believe in you
Spit one bar about my ex-girls, and I’ma show you what this heater do
I’m trying to see if this bullet could tore(Couture)
Through the right side of your body before it’s leaving you
Rap about Ash, then you’ve.. gotta catch ‘em all; a bullet’s seeking you
What I did to the body’s shocking; the kids don’t even want to peek at you (Pikachu)
This nigga look like two ninja turtles put together
Fuck is you, Rapha-angelo or Dona-nardo?
You not a god, bro
You never made Lux lean on the ropes, go toe-to-toe or had to box with Hollow
You rap with speed, but that don’t make you a Creed
Nigga, you not Apollo
You sloppy when you rush in (Russian) with the punches: that make you Ivan Drago
When shit get Rocky, Clips get cocky
I got this big bravado
Cannon under the Big T; let’s switch the scene, now we in Chicago
Giving him 300 off one leg
That’s two Dirks. Did you niggas follow?
See they ain’t get it
I black out here and there; I got vitiligo
Hold up
Y’all know what? I’m so motherfucking mean with it
Let’s bring that skin shit back and do a whole ‘nother scheme with it
Danny, New York is mine
A nigga throw an event, then I want in
Tonight if they make eleven racks, then I want ten
But they paid me to make y’all go through bars
Well I’ma turn y’all into a wino then
Even when I go light, I’m blacking out
That’s albino skin
I’m in every league going loco
I don’t just do it for the Smack bread
When I was younger, I had two twin ratchets on me
That’s when I first learned how to clap lead
With them two twin ratchets, I was short
So I was only hitting back leg
Mary Kate and Ashley: when I got older, I seen them twin ratchets crack head
Hold up
Y’all know what? I’m so motherfucking mean with it
Since y’all ain’t get the whole crackhead shit
I’ll bring it back and do a whole ‘nother scheme with it
Danny, if your House is Full of white, sit calm (sitcom)
‘cause I’m about to take this gun and put it to the bald scalp
With a knife, I’ll get to cutting like a DJ, or give him a shell inside the boy mouth
Mary Kate and Ashley
With them drugs, them twin ratchets is getting pulled out
How ironic, for Danny’s tan or (Tanner)
I’ll be running inside that Full House
I told y’all I ain’t come to play with the “Bar God”
I’ma catch him with a mean gun
Put a hole in his head, but not just any hole, the Rasheed one
Tell my niggas to light it up, and then smoke him before the weed done
I was trying to think of a slogan
But when you kill a nigga this bad, you don’t need one

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
Let’s get straight into these rhymes, homie
I’m ‘bout to… I was just waiting on NuNu to call time on me
This is Clips versus a nigga with clips
They know the fifth‘ll blam
His brain will spread for a couple of meters
That’s an attention span
Listen, man
Play it cool, or else your man is buried
He thought he was the GOAT, ’til he ran into a man who was born in January
I’ll cap a corn (Capricorn)
This nigga don’t want to bang with Myers
I’ll nail you in the street, leave you flat, then change attire (a tire)
Remember our phone battle, when I first killed you?
Well now the gun is calling
I’m Matrix through the phone: any second now, you should see the numbers fallin’
Beef can last from day to night
Pay attention when you fuckin’ with me, Clips
A round ‘ll cover your son (sun) if my pockets on E, Clips(eclipse)
You peep this? Round, cover the sun, day to night I’m fryin’ challengers
I’ll catch your crew and mill any ‘emv (millennium)
That’s the Mayan calendar
This the highest caliber
Bitch nigga, your whole set brittle
My dick wrap around your girl throat like a neck pillow
That TEC peeling
One head shot‘ll floor this nigga
The kick won’t show mercy for Chuck Norris, nigga
First, I’ll put the strap in your face, then lace his shit
Then blow a hole through your bitch; she needed space in the relationship
Face it Clips
I don’t care if your damn marriage good
I been plannin’ to pop one in her; that’s Planned Parenthood
In beef, we ain’t always got to pull a gun
We mail fingers to mothers; that’s just a rule of thumb
This fool is dumb
I’m a god, but you still got a brave heart
But if we are(R) in a circle, it should register we got to trade mark
I’m trying to save art
You cheat the fans
I let the thang spark
It can’t be two GOATs if both of our careers not on the same arc
I have flashbacks of shootouts, bullets dividin’ flesh
Now I draw, off recollection; that’s a composite sketch
You can put your fists up, but I’m holding some shit that’ll change the landscape
What I grip‘ll cover his knuckle like the Mason handshake
I have a need to kill bitch ass niggas, it’s like a primal pressure
My need ‘ll (needle) get shit sendin’, it’s like a vinyl record
Charlie, I checked backgrounds on your crew; ain’t no felons
What’s your daddy really locked up for?
Ain’t no tellin’
But I could tell you this
You spit gun bars like you’re the baddest walkin’
When all you’ll really do is Fire In The Sky like Travis Walton
You’ll leave this planet
You can clown ’til someone abducts you
You a foe (UFO), but you won’t get the picture ’til a round hovers above you
BAR GOD!
We take the drama quite serious
We drive through his hood ’til we spot his pad, like a light period
It ain’t sweet
I got a bunch of homies from Grape Street
If I sock you and don’t knock you out, you better fake sleep
We eight deep
We’ll bring that eighty to your camp
I’ll watch my dogs split your noodle like Lady And The Tramp
Don’t be a diva, mister
Otherwise the whole team‘ll split ya
We’ll have it popping on the side your mouth like a fever blister
I ether niggas, and he on the ground with this shit
This wack emcee got another two rounds of this shit
Yikes!

[Round Two: Charlie Clips]
Let’s get straight to the jokes
Don’t front for these people like you some type of nice dude
You gon cut me up a million times, weigh me on a conveyor belt
Say a joke – I look like Ah Di Boom mixed with Ice Cube
Well, I’m from Harlem and I love to snap
So if that’s the game you want to play, then I’ll play along
And I’m so real with this shit, I won’t even change from Ice Cube
In fact, I’ma perform one of my favorite songs
Straight outta twelve racks, a stupid motherfucker named Danny
Gave his whole life savings up to Randy
Came home with no dinner for his family
Eight dollars left and he spent it on brandy
Nigga, you pussy
Danny, you soft; that’s what my hood say
Let a nigga take twelve racks from me, my whole hood spray
This nigga gon be dead; Ice Cube won’t be able to perform “It Was a Good Day”
My Boyz n the Hood‘ll ride up, tell you, “hop in.”
Take the silencer, put the nozzle on
He jump out the car
Funny ass nigga
Knew he ain’t have the heart (Hart) to Ride Along
Them Ice Cube jokes won’t work, cause you remind me of Eazy E
Y’all don’t look alike or not ‘cause you fucking bitches raw
Or what you do to females is trifling
You remind me of Eazy E for a different reason
Oh, pay attention, cause the details is frightening
See, Rex lied about getting locked up, and you knew it
And I got a question, why D ain’t strike him?
He made you sit when he took your money and left you sick, blood
You should’ve been in T cell fighting
That last scheme was sick, by the way, but listen
We can find a cure with all the money that Rex holding
And since you got your money tooken from that nigga
How ‘bout I hit him with Rex slogan?
I’ma pop Danny in the neck, and walk of with this nigga head
Y’all know Rex slogan, right?
(Crowd: This nigga dead.)
Yeah, this nigga dead once this nigga said
“If I don’t get my money I’ma kill—“ and Rex still got this nigga bread
He threw his hand up
I’m like, who still (steal) boxes? This nigga Craig
Fuck a Friday, I get D bowed (Debo) and leave this nigga Red
Why would y’all put the fastest internet connection up
Against a nigga that’s just dial-up?
No lie, ’02 draft: I got a Rocket that could pick Yao up
I started out with the Hawks, but my gun connect told me to switch my style up
’01 draft: I got on my grizzly and picked the pow (Pau) up
For my basketball niggas
If you know the ’01 and ’02 draft, y’all gon say, “man, that shit crack.”
For the Danny Myers fans..
“Oh he spit his battle rap bars and basketball,”
Y’all gon say that shit wack
I’ll respect you if you get your twelve from Rex
Well, you did battle him, so you might not get that
But at least be a man, Danny
Ask K-Shine to get you six back
(Oh, you not Dot Mob no more?)

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
You brought up that Rex 12K shit
What, y’all niggas trying to rob me?
Well tell your niggas come find me
Bitch, I keep paper around me like the nigga behind me
When we in the barber shop, you never get mentioned
Nigga, fuck favors
You not a writer
We don’t Converse about anything that Chuck tailors (Taylors)
You better duck blazers
You’ll see the beam. we wild niggas
When these arms crossed, you’ll get a boom. I beguile (Guile) niggas
Oh, you and your niggas slipping? Cool. I’m holding them up
You’ll say “Hi” to this bitch like when Odom woke up
Oh, guess which room you in? Ain’t no nigga cold as I
I’ll start off shooting in the bathroom like GoldenEye
Don’t stall on me, I’ll leave you in the dirt stinkin’
You’ll be Stomped ’til your soul is God’s Property like Kirk Franklin
I’m shirt paintin’
I don’t talk this shit to generate likes
Run in his house with the Mac-11 and renovate twice
I’ll leave a paintin’ on your wall of me shooting you in the head
Just to show you how art imitates life
I screw the silencer on the front of the barrel before the gat is burned
All you’re hear is (psh, psh), like getting at a nigga bitch when his back is turned
When will these rappers learn?
Doubt that I’m He and I’ma crucify him
Yet I remain silent, cause everything you say, they trying to scrutinize it
But who am I to say who’s top tier or how to do it proper?
I ain’t Mook or Hoffa, or dudes that’s gotta get on stage in a suit and tie, but
When you get this work, and ain’t satisfied with it, you get the supervisor
Now we could go on and scrap, but my nigga would sneak behind you
You get a hook you ain’t even know was there, like a bonus track
What’s wrong with cats?
You escaped death from Lux, barely
You must be on rock, and roll if you want to be the one that Chuck bury (Berry)
What’s up, scary?
Ain’t no way your team cook mine
All my niggas rolling Strapped like Bokeem Woodbine
The young homies trying to earn they stripes; they know they role’s minor
That’s why they’ll light on the top of your head like a coal miner
Go ahead and act like you Apollo
You’ll feel the impact of a land mine
Walk up on me while I’m holding the sawed-off, you out your damn mind
Kneel (Niel). This arm’s strong (Armstrong)
You’ll be sent to the moon when I blam mine
So take one small step, and you’ll take a giant leap for mankind
(I’m just trying to put space between us)
They want to know the physics of how I did it
Lift the tre pound; calisthenics, blow you to the outer limits of our existence
You’ll never catch me slippin’; I even take a shower with it
It ain’t gon make a minor difference
I’ll spray the can’ and air out the room like it’s flower-scented
Your hourglass ain’t got a hour in it
Nigga, it’s nothing like me
This is a nigga talking ‘bout “syke”, versus a nigga in his psyche
Nike jacket cover my waist to hide the heater
I’m getting paid to break down Clips like Roger Ebert
If I text my nigga and tell him to shoot you, he puttin’ one in your head, G
Soon as he grab his phone and scroll, you’ll be Dead, see (Sea)
If you thought I was gon bring up Couture or old angles, man, you missin’ the script
This a empty gun: I don’t need ammunition for Clips
I’m from where you stood in front of the man you get and you spit
And this wack emcee got a whole ‘nother round of this shit
Yikes!

[Round 3: Charlie Clips]
The plan was to kill Danny in December
But this nigga got a hundred kids
So I figured ah, fuck it, let him enjoy his Christmas first
Cause December 25th is when you get the gift, but
January tenth is when you get the curse
Head shot; get a nurse
Captain Planet: that mean clean him up
Lift his Earth
All them bars niggas had about my pops
Well let’s talk about how you was trying to snitch on Surf
You was on Angryfan yelling more than an angry fan
You was showing niggas that you could scream well
“Ah Di Boom wrote Surf bars, Ah Di Boom wrote Surf bars.”
You was on the phone sounding like a diesel female
You know Ah Di Boom is doing time
So he wouldn’t be able to call him and get the details
But ironically, we ain’t have to give a Boom a ring (boomerang)
Cause the shit came back around in the form of a e-mail
Ah Di wrote, and I quote, “I did not write for Surf.”
So you took a nigga whole fake situation, even tried to lie about it and hype it too
“I got screenshots of Surf text messaging Ah Di.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if you was the one that typed them, too
You not a Bar God, you a bar fraud; stealing some of my work is what you like to do
Now I feel like Ah Di, ‘cause behind these bars, I got a right to sue (write to Tsu)
But I don’t like to sue, bitch nigga
Fuck court
The streets is where I’m holding my trial
I walk in while you playing with your son
“Oh, you gon shoot the Bar God while he holding his child?”
Nah, I’ll walk off, hit him with that syke-I-lied
Then start unloading the pound
I don’t give a fuck
Your whole family is getting treys(trays), we at Golden Corral
Hold up
You know what? I’m so motherfucking mean with it
A fat nigga rapping about a restaurant? I got to do a whole ‘nother scheme with it
I was on the phone with my nigga Buddens; he said, “eat him.”
I said, “Why, Joe?” He said, “‘Cause that sucka food.”
I said, “The head shot gon be Sloppy, Joe, but man, which (Manwich) gun to use?”
What you got is salad bars
You’ll probably let us (lettuce) put the banana clip on your Adam’s apple
Man, if he don’t chill, he’s (Chili’s) getting hit with the gun
’til I crack a (Cracker) Barrel
Niggas complaining about that recycling shit against Big Kannon
Look what happened to Suge
I been on my grind since
Sometimes when you freestyle you bug out
Truth be told, I don’t know where my mind went
What you with, four niggas on stage?
Well, I’ma recycle again
I keep that nine gripped
Act like I’m walking off, bring the can back and get five sent (cent)
Y’all saw State Property, right?
Hey Swave, in Harlem, we gon throw Danny a mean party
Bunch of choppers in the shit like a mean Homi, machines prob’ly
But I don’t need a gun
I’ll walk in swinging on everybody, like, “it wasn’t me, Charlie,”
I don’t give a fuck
Even the wrong niggas getting crowned, I feel like Steve Harvey
I told this nigga, I’ma run on Danny with a mean gun
Put a whole in his head, but not just any hole
The Rasheed one
Tell my niggas to light it up and then smoke him before the weed done
I was trying to think of a slogan
But when you kill a nigga this bad, you don’t need one

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
I ain’t set this battle up just to bring me stardom
I set it up, so I could tell you in your face, I’m the king of Harlem
But my stories deeper
You’ll be left with gory features
When these kicks fly, and I ain’t talking ‘bout Mauri sneakers
My Mexican plug said he could sell me forty cheaper
So I got that Alien transporting with the white bitch like Sigourney Weaver
You don’t got to understand the intricacies of my flowin’ and schemin’
Or notice the meanin’, just know it’s demeanin’
I’m controlling a demon, I’m holding the secret
You’re like D, how did I come up with this?
Long nose leading to a ruptured disk: Snuffaluffagus trunk is sick
Spare a nigga for real, stuff him up the trunk to fit
His subsequent thoughts, is tied up, is like “What the fuck is this?”
But this ain’t even about you
Even though I had to do this in person
It was the disservice of your Diz verses that deserves this
Bar God
I’m from a world where my pen’s perfect
But in the underworld, it appears plain (plane) when I invert it
I no longer have to punch these niggas
A bald headed man premeditatin’ murder when I’m amongst (a monk) these niggas
Y’all can boo this (Buddhist), but it won’t cause my mind to worry
Y’all must be off Buddha
If you can’t see between my temples lies a mind that’s scary (monastery)
Just you even being here in honorary
My lines are worth money; you could put my bars on Ah Di Boom’s commissary
I gave my young homie a pound of weed to get his first cake up
That means I had the green on the corner with my pupil, like when you first wake up
No joke, I should’ve walked in this bitch wearing a cloak
The form of a droid was my apparent approach
If there is a GOAT, it’s always Lux, Hollow, Mook, and Clips
But they fail to mention the west like we ain’t got shit to do with this
This bias has to stop
Even the south got a few that spit
Ha, I’m Official with double M, you stupid little bitch
The hood loves Myers, ‘cause they can feel when he’s spittin’
I’m popping you point blank; you ain’t getting killed from a distance
I’ll shoot you on this rainy day
Your coat fall in a puddle in front of your girl, you dead but chivalry isn’t
Fore real, I can feel the resistance
I’m spittin’ ’til he sleep in coffins
This is Jesus talking with the mind frames of Stephen Hawking when he was walkin’
Proceed with caution
Ask his family, they know
Who winning this battle?
You can tell by they fucked up faces, Danny trey-oh (Trejo)
But the comments gon say “Clips 3-0”
They try to cheat Danny
Let me introduce to the man that can beat Danny
Meet Danny
For bitch niggas like you is why I keep the heat handy
Get a Clue how I’m Fabolous with the king like the Street Family
I’ma shoot your bulldog looking ass at all costs, and throw the weapon
But don’t worry, Charlie, All Dogs Go To Heaven
I’m a flowing legend, and you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit
Yikes!

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