Danny Myers vs. Young Kannon [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
49 people were killed in Chicago over a single weekend
The headline was undersold
49 people were killed in Florida…now they talkin’ ’bout gun control
What are you doin’ to change the conditions in yo’ city?
To stop the violence and stand up to it
The government ain’t send no help, residents just gotta tough through it
Chicago schools are losing funding, families are being uprooted
What’s my take on it?
Bitch you still alive!? I don’t think they doin’ enough shootin’!
I’ve been raw
The very thought of this faggot makes my skin crawl
The piece (peace) will come out faster than when it’s time to leave your in-laws
I don’t give a fuck if you at a bus stop, ain’t no tellin’ where I’ll take it next
You’ll see me masked up on a shuttle like on Jason X
Pay respect, I done slayed the best, I cannot be seen
When I slide on you with the Black Hawk it ain’t ya hockey team
Stop these schemes, you a fuckin’ disgrace to folks
You a big pussy like a Mz. Gracie Facebook post
Yo’ bitch got No Limit, me and my shady pals gon’ fuck her
You walk in the room she gon’ be posed like the Mercedes album cover
What’s happenin’ bitch? You’ll catch a sharp hook from one of Danny hands
You just a fake killer from Chicago like Candyman
Sharp hook, Candyman? Never mind, nigga ya style gay
The toy from Chicago will kill the kid: that’s Child’s Play
Every bar I write with a pen is a death note
Bring that gangsta shit over here and get your set smoked
2Pac whooped Joe Torry’s ass
If y’all seen Poetic Justice, then you’ll know how we do Chicago on the West Coast!
Bar God!
You’ll get no turn to reach
My pistol will give you the floor like it’s your turn to speak
This is not a Bulls game
Listen, guy, ain’t no talkin’
His Desert Eagle is my version of triangle offense
You feel (Phil) me?
You a snitch
A shot through your chest will leave your heart damaged
Simply ’cause I was taught to air a rat (Ararat) like where the Ark landed
Do you believe in a parallel universe? I do, that shit is all terror
I taught my cousin to hold the handle, later on I was his pallbearer
Small errors in this city and ya soul get lift
You won’t make it to yo’ 60’s, you better watch who you Rollin’ with
I told this bitch, you can’t leave L.A. until you fight us nigga
For him, this an away game but they still gotta United Center
I sneak in his house at 3 AM, he finna bleed hella shit
Then snap on him while he asleep like a side bitch that need evidence
You try to stop Danny rise? I’ll personally see to it that your family dies
Them .357 rounds longer than the space between Brandy’s eyes!
He must be on mo’ E should (Moesha) he think the Bar God losin’ to him
I’ll shoot his niece at a theme park: let’s see if that’s amusin’ to him
Danny gat strapped on the waist like a fanny pack
The code word: Master P and his brothers
That mean his whole family whacked!
Fuck rappin’, I’ll head shot this nigga, now the plot has thickened
You’ll be lying in front of this crowd faster than a politician
When we rappin’, you can only talk shit, you don’t have no options
In this ring, I can punch in (and) air: that’s shadowboxing
Get your shadow boxed in
You on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got another two rounds of this shit

[Round 1: Young Kannon]
It’s about goddamn time, but you must be out yo’ goddamn mind
You can’t get rid of a real live devil Aak
You thinkin’ it’s sweet as Sugarhill, die when I O.D. in the buildin’, that’s Roemello pops
Metal cock, you the Bar God? Well, let’s see if ya title worth it
Don’t gas this false prophet, what he preach trash and we don’t buy bull verses
I got plenty things, to niggas ’bout business discussin’ heavy cream
I’m a universal charger: I got a plug for everything!
It’s the shark in ya waters, my soldiers will let the semi sing
Is Dan a Marine? No, he a Dolphin that never let it ring!
Let’s set the scene, ’cause I’m from where they pay rent off nickle dollars from dope heads
But Danny be flexin’ like he hittin’ licks on coke bread
Chopper to him like, “Open the safe.”
He frontin’ like he got no bread
Cool, if there’s any loot in it, Dan, I’m knockin’ off both legs!
I got L.A. connects too, my Damu’s will bring the slugs out
Let the fire fly, spray ya pest aside if he bug out
Hit ya mug, blaow, for tryin’ to play the thug route
Make a movie in L.A.: a Vato send blood in to leak blood out!
Cause my kin evil, he’ll die like Knievel if he more than stunt
Four’s will dump
Have a dummy runnin’: that’s Forrest Gump
Rumble in the Octagon if he wanna front
If Dan severin’ (Severn) a beast, I crack him like Brock Lesnar when I’m on the hunt
Who gon’ stop me? Ya Bloque of Writer’s? Go to Hell they lyin’
I edged Big Kannon, that’s when they found out this ese fire
Magic, JC, Chilla, Danja, all took L’s, they tried it
I been burnt the block (Bloque) down: it’s the L.A. riots!
This the main stage, I ain’t come to toy wit’ ’em, I’m lil’ boyin’ him
30 hangin’ out for no reason: the clip loiterin’
I’m a legend in the hood, the one that young hustlin’ thugs idol
We both nice, but I ain’t suck dick to get a buzz like you
We can war reckless with hammers or precision kill with one rifle
Surf through the Ave and Roc you know what the Guns Titled
Heater tuck, Cave nigga cut from a different breed of pups
With two clips, you can eat in this order (disorder)
Best believe me a (bulimia) you’ll get clocked by ya bed for snoozin’
Get two alarms, we from the school of the hard knocks, the ski mask the uniform, I call the welders up
That mean they put in work in the hood and they know how to use the torch
Click then point at his whore’s (horse) head, that’s a unicorn
Write a hate letter to his wife, end it with a passionate “Fuck you”
Crush glass in the palm of my hand, smackin’ ya mother
Ratchets is dumpin’
Silencer on the strap. clap it and slump him
(*Choo choo choo choo choo choo choo*)
He ain’t know if he was in L.A. or the African jungle!
Are you from L.A., Vegas, Michigan, New York?
We all confused on where you holdin’ ya block
I’m from Chiraq, yeah, we notorious for throwin’ them shots
1800, what I lick will get poured in ya top
We Ghostbusters, so if Dan act ‘roid (Aykroyd), what’s in the backpack will put a nigga’s soul in a box
Let’s keep it a buck: in battle rap, I’m one of the niggas you admire
My kill list a mile long, and now I’m ’bout to add Myers
You animated? Creep wit’ the long nose: Quagmire
Then roast him some more with the sticks
That’s when my camp fire
Yeah you cool wit’ me, but I know niggas that can’t stand Myers
Put two dots on ya neck like you got bit by a vampire
One call to my nigga Fat Mack, he hold it by the belt
You get somethin’ blunt to the head, it leave you smokin’ by yourself
Ya lil’ group been breakin’ up, bro, but after this, I’ll retire the Bloque
Y’all had good battles, but y’all nowhere higher in stock
Yeah it’s Gang, but I’m my own boss, like it or not
I joined the Cave men because I made fire wit’ Roc

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
I’ma wait til all y’all leave, no witnesses
Slap this nigga in the head with the semi
You right, this is the L.A. riots, snatched his bitch out his whip like Reginald Denny
I give my nigga a penny, he runnin’ up on you and you will tumble
Fuck the African jungle: we gon’ drop him off in the real jungle!
I don’t know what in the fuck made you think you can see me, nigga
A shot through a Chicago knee is really the PG killer
You know what I Rose through
I had to get in this game from the outside
Did years of classics and finally gettin’ respect, it’s about time
You be gettin’ niggas locked up, all at the precinct with your mouth wide
Apparently Lloyd ain’t the only nigga singin’ on the ‘Southside’
Mama should’ve told me what? Days like this?
Nigga, my mama shot up in front of me and said, “Don’t risk AIDS like this.”
I wanted to be champion of the world, like Mayweather on a fight scene
But seein’ my mama with a crack pipe interfered with my pipe dreams
This might seem too real but those that battle me knows
I draw portraits with this black ink in my reality shows
But don’t go tit for tat
If we beefin’, ain’t no gettin’ back
You’ll be lucky if you can have a open casket with yo’ shit intact
We different black
They don’t get the same feelin’ when we spittin’ raps
You got bars but there’s something called “authenticity” and you missin’ that
You should be legend status, this is somethin’ I thought about a while
It’s ’bout how you carry yourself, how you dress, it’s all about ya style
But act stupid they gon’ see our fallin’ out is wild
With this Mossberg, I pump fakes like I’m tryin’ to draw the foul
I started in South Central among the chaos
Damn, shit corny
It was rooted in me, these cops wanna plant shit on me
So I had to leave and branch out
Trust my talent and believe the flow
Now I’m back on my home soil just happy that my seeds can grow
What you need to know, I don’t leave the house without the damn protection
So you can die or either hand me the money like you ambidextrous
This what ya man expected
After this battle he gon’ eat the loss
He gon’ get his bread from KG, shake some of y’all hands, he gon’ greet the boss
While he think the Uber takin’ him back to the airport it’s speedin’ off
To drop him off to the Mexicans like Denzel did to Ethan Hawke
Ain’t no need to talk, but it better be respectful if you speak to Myers
If ya audio ain’t correct you gettin’ choked out with the speaker wire
Think mosquito in Brazil
The long nose will fuck up ya baby before it’s even born like the Zika Virus
Scope attachments, magazines and silencers are for the hostiles
Bitch, this assault rifle got more connections than the Rothschilds
They say that $12,000 made me look bad, ruined my career, that’s what the best think
Well if that’s true, how come I’m here and Rex ain’t?
I tarnished the legacy of a legend and he was one of the best dudes
But I guess only Bolo will understand that Chess (chest) move
You ain’t worth a punch, I got somethin’ special for you
I’ll backhand you so hard cops can use the echo for proof
The metal will shoot, fatal wound, face it you dyin’
Fuck ya funeral, tell ya mama it’s too late for the cryin’
Cause when it’s beef, I tell my niggas “Mike Tyson’s Punch Out cheat code”
That means skip the fights and go straight to the Iron!
I am, the greatest ever and you on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got a whole ‘nother round of this shit

[Round 2: Young Kannon]
Whooo that shit was crack
I mean in your rounds you actually say some shit that’s impressive
But outside the ring you do lame shit to make yo’ G shit come into question
You try to walk that tight rope between creative and corny as fuck
You don’t believe me? Well watch and learn this lesson
Cause a nigga always wanted to try a Danny Myers impression
Now you’d think I’d be hype
“It could be you and nine of yo’ niggas guaranteed we ’bout that action witcha
Think athlete’s foot, you’ll see the can’ spray ten actin’ (Tinactin) niggas
We clappin’ triggers
I’m quick to rock a fella (Rocafella) but I don’t rap wit’ Jigga
I’m ’bout to fuck this nigga live up like a Kardashian sister
Bar God!”
Shut the fuck up with that super-villain voice!
Jumpin’ ’round on the stage lookin’ stupid
The only thing worse than your actual performance is ya music
Have any of y’all heard a Danny Myers song?
You? You? Exactly
Shit get Frisbee’d freshly out the Jeep
Rollin’ a blunt on your mixtape is disrespectful…to the weed!
You can’t fuck ’round on me
I’m thinkin’ OJ Mayo, if I test ya substance you gettin’ drug out the league
I catch him in his Vegas crib, bookin’ battles on his mobile phone
The torch flame his top like Joe Pesci when he Home Alone
In other words, I’m tryin’ to hurt him in his place
My Warriors got a new shooter, pull up from 30 with the tre
Ya blood will splash, brother get him buried in a day
I brought the K to L.A. why I’m the Thompson’s what I Curry (carry) in The Bay
From Culver City to Long Beach I’m blowin’ loud like a megaphone
Unstoppable in the game; Bo Jackson in Tecmo Bowl
Ninja Turtles get metal to they grill when I shred a (Shredder) dome
Cause I roll with the metal ’round like the Technodrome
That heat’ll seek ya, try to outrun death you’ll meet the reaper
Shit’ll clap, get ya chicken wrap, who need a pita?
Baby nine, bullet holes the size of Reese’s Pieces
I’ll black and have it fly through ya field I’m Jeepers Creepers
Me and my niggas, we either ten or twenty years in, down to ride
From youngins in the park to teenagers wit’ heart, breakin’ down the pies
Danny come reckless we gon’ bring yo’ demise
I got code words for each of ’em and every one applies
My nigga T-Guns, he specialize in weapons trainin’ and makin’ bones break
Former Marine with PTSD so ain’t no zone safe
He .50 caliber certified but he prefer tuckin’ the chrome .8
His word, “Pinch runner” cause I make the hit but he gon’ slide to ya home base
My nigga LuLu? Pot head savage
He don’t give a shit ’bout niggas
You better be cut from that cloth if that nigga get witcha
Or it’s black bags, slow songs, niggas pourin’ out liquor
His word, “Crop ’em” cause he flash the cannon and cut niggas out the picture
My nigga A Willa, king of finesse
I swear it’s like a gift with the boy
His code, “Santa Claus” cause he’ll slay (sleigh) ya roof then end up in ya crib wit’ the toy
I just speak on my environment, we relate to niggas that work the hammer
You get a 100 from an ese (essay) like you got perfect grammar
He said, “A sacrificial lamb to a GOAT, nigga impossible.”
I’m on the grind to get a fruit served, fuck a Jamba Juice
Rob who? We zip up sneakers: Dennis Rodman shoes
I’m a psycho crusher, click the M by son (Bison), the flame leave his body blue
Off the dope I brought the traffic, I should get indicted
The illest fighter
Fei Long: the punches back to back but everything I kick is fire
The mil’ put ya man to sleep when I give ya nigga itis
Then jack ya whip with the metal but we ain’t switchin’ tires
We should give Vicki to Brizz
She tired of you so she’ll let the homie try it
I bet son get piped to the head like Opie dyin’
You gettin’ killed twice as bad every round, let’s multiply it
Droppin’ 60 and leavin’ L.A. that’s word to Kobe Bryant

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
I’ma catch you in yo’ whip then wet you wit’ the shit
I would’ve fucked yo’ hoe but that’s disrespectful to my dick
Obama don’t give a fuck about Chicago and that makes you look real stupid
On top of that, y’all gave us Chief Keef, Crucial Conflict and drill music
I loved ‘Adrenaline Rush’ and Cap One, niggas was rhymin’ poem
Chicago rappers used to be sick at least that nigga Common cold
Big T ain’t got a third of yo’ skill yet he’s three times as popular
That’s further proof you a fuckin’ lame and ya own city don’t rock witchu
Bitch I’ll put the Glock to ya, but I ain’t gotta be up close when it’s time to clap him
Cause that sniper rifles sings in the same range as Yolanda Adams
I know ya mind is backwards, while my nuts stay inside her mouth
Cause when the lights go out I break her (breaker) box on the side of yo’ house
My pen game incredible, and to this point I’ve been a man of patience
Cause they only mention my energy and certain motions that my hands is makin’
Y’all missin’ the genius behind it
It’s like a Disney movie, cause there’s actually a hidden message within my animation
I catch this nigga slippin’, in his driver seat, dump fo’ in his chest
Then keep shootin’ at the right side of the bucket like I can’t go to my left
Ya flow is a mess, nigga, run up on me and get yo’ ass buckled
I’ll let the fo’ ring on his face like brass knuckles
We past scuffles, it’s prison or death, ain’t nothin’ next for us
The irony, we don’t become holy until bullets exit us (Exodus)
The TEC will bust, these niggas is crazy, they’ll hurt ya soul
First they’ll appeal you then blow this bitch up, that’s birth control
Let’s get personal, let’s talk about yo’ life and how you live it up
Never mind, fuck personals cause personally I don’t give a fuck
But I slap niggas in person, per persona and I burst the shell
And I slap yo’ bitch then give her purse to my personnel
These bullets personalize every person knows he can’t be winnin’ wit’ ’em
And they know Danny’s lyricism is similar to anti-semitism
Cause I seek hidden jewels, who gas these niggas?
Get out my face, once we work out what Hollow cost (Holocaust) he’ll come across bent outta shape
I can who you cannot see (Nazi)
You proud of bein’ a killer of the PGs?
That’s like bein’ happy about averaging ten points in the D league
I come to the south side aim at your throat and let the mil’ spark twice
Them gon’ be the ugliest shots in Chicago since Bill Cartwright
You should’ve thought twice
I hold the Hawk tight, I’ll smoke this bastard
I’ma put rounds all over his body like motion capture
Fuck who’s the dopest rapper
This about popularity and all this stupid stuff
If it was about skill we’d be in the conversation with Mook and Lux
So what does this do for us? About 200,000 views
They’ll say we sick with pens
Then a Charlie Clips battle gon’ come out and everybody gon’ be on his dick again
That’s why I’m sick within
But etch my legacy with the most gifted men
I’m from an era when it wasn’t about performance only yo’ spit could win
Listen, we different friend
I’m tryin’ to get out the dope game, what I’ma do next?
I seen family’s separated by a couple bricks; that’s a duplex
Get ya crew stretched
You teamed up with Tay Roc? You gon’ ride this man’s dick?
I knew niggas weren’t loyal after I seen the Verizon man switch
Tay Roc, you think you scarin’ us talkin’ ’bout squarin’ up?
Okay fair enough
Y’all gon’ see me throw Roc(k) against the window like I ain’t tryin’ to wake her parents up
And you on the ground with this shit
Thanks the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit

[Round 3: Young Kannon]
That was cool but I don’t think that’s enough to get past me hater
Cause you’re on cam’ tryna Roc(k) climb but I’m the American Gladiator
You told Bigg K, “my crew is like niggas in Italian suits, we got mob ties”
You a bitch tryin’ to fit in with the killers, you the mob wives
I’m one of the coldest with the flow jerk
But they say since I do gun bars I don’t got a growth spurt
But I break niggas down every battle, watch me show work
Danny a nice guy, nothin’ about him says he’ll let that fo’ burst
You never had the text (TECs) to Boom, that’s like you tryin’ to expose Surf
Danny said, “For this battle I’ma leave Earth.” Oh that’s yo’ strategy? Challenge me
Well I’m too down to Earth, my bars grounded in reality
And I’ma spit somethin’
Cause there’s some bullshit you tried to sweep under the rug that got yo’ fans bothered
Like, why you ain’t address your DM post and screen shots tryin’ to call you a bad father?
Now I know these hoes be trippin’, but still I can’t respect that shit
All a man’s got is his balls, word, rep, that’s it
She tried to take all three from you, my nigga
And you ain’t do nothin’ but accept that shit
You should’ve deleted that post, called that hoe, and checked that bitch!
Because that type of shit nobody should be seein’, right?
But since it got exposed, he ain’t defend himself, reply or commented
But a nigga diss Writer’s Bloque on another post, and he responded in five minutes!
That’s why Vicki got on Facebook shittin’ on you
Said you don’t take care of home and it’s sad to see
This nigga put battle rap fame over his own family
For that, I hope wifey go Waiting To Exhale ya cars and clothes on some goofy shit
Daughter gets pregnant by a fuck nigga that leaves her, stupid bitch
Streets take ya sons, teach him some lost nigga lessons on some ruthless shit
Mr. Miyagi: they’ll teach Daniel son how to raise arms and use the kick!
You punk, I never, whoever try get live dump seven
Back shot, have him walkin’ like he nine months pregnant
You kiss ass to be accepted but that just ruins ya rep dummy
I’m in L.A. Gear, he gettin’ lit up if he step funny
I gotta question, how many of y’all seen that video with Danny lookin’ shook when that chick Melissa Benz hugged him?
That’s how you know he don’t load and clap it
Off that clip alone, Danny be scared to hold the ratchet
Provoke a savage, he on his block bluffin’, hit the stop button
When a bullet slip ya mind, it’s apparent the four got somethin’
How are you years older than me and I’m puttin’ you on game?
Lame Don Demarco, for shit like that we let it bang bang
Two guns named Smack and Beasley
Have ya clique yellin’ out “Mayday!”
‘Cause two bald heads will get you booked on the main stage
My art official, you artificial
This a rocket launcher to a starter pistol
I slide the razor blade across ya name like the Rawkus symbol
Whether I’m dolo or the crew run wit’ me, it’s a gun wit’ me
Kick from the .23 ain’t fake, I ain’t Rum Nitty
I been ’bout that hustle shit
Before the nursing home I seen a bunch of grams
You don’t wanna dance wit’ the 80’s, get to runnin’ man
Give you K’s (UK’s), run up in ya palace start buckin’ HAM (Buckingham)
Get son shot like a Marley even if he bought the Thunder Dan
If you ask damn Daniel, he swear he ’bout that drug life
But ain’t do shit when Rex ran off on the plug twice
I know, I know, I know, another 12K bar, right?
Y’all prolly feelin’ like that’s a weak move
But in the streets if you get robbed twice by the same nigga it never leaves you
Catch Danny Hennessy’d up, clip him while he scummy
Cause he got fly on his own his own cord like a nigga with a bungie
Before it hit him in his skully, my code: Napoleon
He gon’ die no might (Dynomite) when Pedro wiggin’ wit’ a dummy
A nigga told me, “What if Danny bring goons to try to press you?”
I’m like, “Oh yeah? Well I’m elevators only. I bet not see no stairs (stares).”
That fo’ flare, you talk beef but you don’t wanna go there
The ratchet act out in public like, “Bitch I can’t take yo’ ass nowhere!”
Ol’ Koopa Troopa lookin’ ass nigga I don’t play like this
I grind 24/7 everyday like this
And I know he figured he wouldn’t get slayed like this
But ya mama should’ve told you it’d be days like this
South side!

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