Danny Myers vs. Mike P [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Mike P]
I’m startin’ wit’ a mirror match of blinded greatness
Two examples of unmatched talent…that have climbed through stages
But there’s a difference between us…
You rap wit’ a pace too fast for people to really catch on, so they make snap decisions on reacting to you or not
And they’re basically tricked into thinking you…rhyme amazing
And survivin’ this? I don’t see your way out…though this is an A-B conversation
Your pace and style? Well, that ain’t shit I gotta write to, Myers
I’ll let a bomb greet you
You let the Don beat you, he was right to, Myers
I mean, ya almost won, and you let Hollow wean (Halloween) into it
Now this bitch trippin’ in front of Michael, Myers!
Psycho rage!
The butterfly, he get tossed, slice away
Your cheek get lost, weaken boss
Deacon Frost: fight the Blade!
We all seen the past
Mid-Tier Myers – wanted clash with titans, and they all beat him bad
If Danny wanna get crazy, what I palm heat his ass
Arm out, watch the Wave sing: “Call me for Ave!”
Yo, Smack!
This what you call Pulice (police) for on the dispatch?
Pocket rocket, mint condition: I’m shootin’ Tic-Tacs!
Pop shit! You’ll be the only one here gettin’ bitch-smacked
Even my shorty have you discoverin’ stars
(*smack*) My gal’ll lay yo’ (Galileo) shit flat!
BANG! ‘Til Danny brain vacant
Then I’m blade-slangin’
Open chest, expose the neck like Ace shavin’!
I say he trippin’, I’ll go white-boy crazy wit’ it
Danny get jumped
Am-bush on a pussy like ‘80s women
.380 liftin’, smooth sound like a Mercedes engine
I mean, that shit has some ‘BOP’ in it
And before the beat even starts, the baby (DaBaby) spittin’!
Danny contradictin’ in his flows of attack
You told Hollow, “This shit battle rap, not battle performance”, but let’s go over your acts
Yelling over your own bars is a performance, and you know it’s a fact
Stop tellin’ us to let the raps speak for you, and you always speakin’ over your raps
I ain’t goin’ punch-for-punch
I’m here to expose all of him
Slaughter him, embarrass any nobody supportin’ him
The “Bar God”…most people are either atheists, or struck a chord wit’ him
How are you a God, but can’t tap into a bigger audience?
Dawg, they tryna tell me I ain’t main stage? Them peasants lyin’
Mike P is electrifyin’, and some expensive rhymin’
Pussies always claim you fake, but too broke to even buy the tool to test the diamonds
Vets is dyin’!
If he think he lit, I’ll lift the Glock and dip
That’s two shots for Danny Boy
He drink a whiskey drink, he drinks a vodka drink
I’ll flame Myers!
Bounty on him, he tried to run, but dude just couldn’t
I had paper around his head like Fabolous bandanna in ‘Superwoman’
Sucka, say what!? I’ll fuck ya day up!
West Coast, I beat B. Dot and was fuckin’ Day’ up!
Ruined his chances of throwin’ hands, I had the fuckin’ thang tucked
Trick Daddy: soon as his mug shot (mugshot), I’ll fuck the fade up!
So, Danny…keep comin’ with that lost mentality
Your ignorance is leadin’ to your loss in salary
You here to act like you still a boss and battle me
I’m here to put some life into your false reality
Let’s fuckin’ go

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
I gotta kill this cat!
Mothafuckin’ real is back!
We ambush, strip the pussy clean: it’s a Brazilian wax!
URL, what up!?
They finally gave me this fuck up
The minute they gave Michael Myers, I knew I was finna cut up!
Bitch, run up
I get close to dude, and let this blade do what it’s supposed to do
Then start diggin’ in every part of his life…I’m Joe from You!
This was overdue
You got socked while you was rappin’, you coulda lost teeth
But Mobb Deep showed me P always did rhyme…OFF BEAT!
You shouldn’t have crossed me
I lift a pound, arm shot, spin him ’round
Leg shot, lower Mike (mic): I like recordin’ while I’m sitting down!
I’m from a different town, Los Angeles, you can’t ignore the shit
Why y’all give the police (Pulice) my plate, knowing I didn’t warrant this?
You had a choice to go to King Of The Dot and be one of the biggest rappers sought
Or prove yourself with the Black guys and be a URL afterthought!
You weighed ya options, then you closed the matter
The fact you gettin’ shot down right here tells us you chose the latter (ladder)
I’m too cold for rappers, you gon’ need the right protection
He was destined for a wheelchair ever since Mike conception (Concepcion)
My last SMACK, they gave me a Tuna sandwich – they must like me
To wash it down, they gave me a Long Island after I iced T (tea)!
You wanna fight me? I go a round with Mike, catch him while he around a mic
My niggas beat him with studio equipment, then we give him sound advice!
We clown ya type, my mental is blocked with lunacy
I’ll toss ya stepkids from the second floor once I get a window of opportunity
Then I creep in ya room, tip-toein’ with the little hawk
Yak Girl sleep, I just told you that my mental off
Grab the goose down, start suffocatin’ her while thinkin’ gentle thoughts
She said something while she dyin’, but I ain’t with the PILLOW TALK!
Mike wake up, he socked me, but it was brittle soft
I gripped the Hawk and gave em a string of caps like dental floss!
My niggas stomped you, I couldn’t get em off, they got busy on you
I told my niggas “Mike done. Leave – he (Dunleavy) gone die, it got grisly (Grizzlies) on you!
What happened when you battled Dennis? That was a lotta foul play
See, nothin’ comes out when they move they lips, and muthafuckas act like we ‘Forgot About Dre’!
He gotta clout-chase
Main stage – no, P
This year, SMACK can’t have NOME, with no ME!
Y’all know me, I just work hard, and drop bars that this wigger can’t
Y’all will never see my character through a Twitter rant!
I’m from where, If you don’t pay back when you borrow loot
They put you in a tux, and ya whole family follow suit!
We followed you…to Long Island with a few more silencers
But I need something the size of a Hockey stick for this New York Islander!
I injure…people like you for the fuck of it
He happy right now, this battle was on his bucket list
He did stand the test of time, Caucasian on URL
But White last longer with the SMACK when you cut the shit!
Beam on his bitch, it was supposed to be on you when the TEC down
I had the red light in the wrong spot like Chess round!
I am a VET, clown! And he on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got another two…

[Round 2: Mike P]
You ready?

[Danny Myers]
Let’s go

[Mike P]
Preppin’ for Danny, his whole catalogue was under review
And the more I watched you vers’ Hollow Da Don…the more I realized I got nothin’ to prove
You wanna hold other people responsible for your actions?
Well, karma comes to a few
Anything you’ve ever taxed returns…and I just got my W-2s
It’s time to cash out
You said your queen fightin’ addiction? I fought it, too
I pray we all get straight
And the fact you battlin’ me right after Hollow Da Don? We’ll just call it fate
When shit got heavy, I needed people I loved around me to support the weight
But you always leave the house to rap
I think your battles and her battles correlate
You battled 20 times last year
I know how the effects of writin’ could stress your life in
20 times in 12 months don’t offer much attention to lend your wife in
I wonder how she feels
Them weekends you gone and she start missin’ you
But Danny’s chasin’ a dream, right?
I think you got an addiction, too
This is crazy
I’mma paint this all perfect just in case the crowd forgets it
Count yo’ blessings
I studied every move you make and I found the message
Your wife needed you to pick her up
You coulda helped yo’ love out wit’ leverage
But I think choosin’ between your battle life or your real life comes down to preference
But you’re into one (in 2-1) either way – I’m just statin’ facts outside the numbers
Your slogan has become your life, and in the process, yo’ eyes been covered
You not stayin’ by the woman you love? Well, that don’t surprise me, brother
You on stage screamin’ “Parallel” on the same nights you and your wife should be beside each other!
I’M recovered!
So miss wit’ all that shit you speakin’ ‘bout
When you don’t hear her cries for help, releasin’ them demons out
You must believe in a Parallel Universe, ‘cause this shit even out
You on stage, screamin’ after every line, while she takin’ lines and screamin’ out!
You a deadbeat to yo’ set queen!
Is she on heroin wit’ the hard nod!?
Or does she reach a higher level wit’ pills?
Bein’ responsible got no loopholes!
She out here shiverin’ from withdrawals, while you out here saying you too cold!
I said, an East Coast King!
I’m here to check you, BITCH!
In yo’ mothafuckin’ face, I disrespect you, BITCH!
You only livin’ ‘cause a man like me let you, BITCH!
You gave Rex 12K, when you should’ve 12-stepped yo’ BITCH!
But you DIDN’T!
How the fuck you cry about her fightin’ a drug habit
Wipe yo’ tears, turn around, and tell Hollow that he a drug addict!?
I will NEVER blame her for the fallin’ out wit’ the shit
True assessment, Danny, I think you as clown as it gets
‘Cause when battle rap left your queen on the ground with this shit
You was in the other fuckin’ room writin’ rounds for the shit!
If you’ve NEVER looked yourself in the mirror, Danny, begin, son
‘Til your life, ‘til your image, ‘til your slogans become a thin one
I was here to talk to your soul, Danny, and then some
You don’t believe in a Parallel Universe, Danny – you’re IN ONE!
TIME! Time!

[Round 2: Danny Myers]
Aye, first of all, you bitch-ass nigga…I wish my queen was here
Just like your criminal record, she been clean for years
(Real fact, nigga – fuck you talkin’ ‘bout, boy?)
AYE! Aye!
Case y’all ain’t heard…the other day a white boy said “Nigga!”
Dude a weirdo
You tweeted out “Fuck white people”-

[Mike P]

[Danny Myers]
-then text him “You’se a hero!”
I wasn’t gone take the “white angle” during preparation
But y’all stole this land from the Natives, and wonder why I have my reservations
I told my brothers we gotta move past slavery, can’t blame that for your life, homie
But please…keep you a pistol that says “Whites Only”!
Knife on me, let me show how Black people really act
Neck slice, land P on his skull like a Philly hat!
Milli’ clap, we at ya house, finna air shit
We hangin’ with sticks right outside his camp like the Blair Witch!
You think I’m scared, BITCH!?
I got a left hook that’ll make your knees buckle
You think ’cause I’m 40 this old game can’t fuck with P knuckles (pinochle)!?
Speaking of boxing, if I couldn’t fight, I’m shootin’ with heavy ‘matics
I been learned how to put a pistol on Mike from Teddy Atlas!
I got a custom auto (Cus D’amato)
Catch him slippin’ and let his soul lift
Watch how quick I change his temperature like “Pole Shift”!
I was preppin’ for you, drinkin’ Vodka, writin’ cold shit
All I could think about was P and (pee in) this bottle like a road trip!
Bro spit!
I can’t front, dude nice with words
But the only white guy with substance I fuck with is Heisenberg!
The lines are blurred
Who really the nicest? That’s what I’m stressed about
We created Hip Hop and gave y’all the guest account!
This what the West about – wild life, niggas starving like the poorest nation
I seen men cut over trees, that’s why the four is stationed (deforestation)
They think I’m corny, ’cause I don’t sag my pants like the rest of these niggas!?
My pops taught me in prison that just sent a message to niggas!
I’m a G, P! And I’ll sleep yo’ ass on GP
In the West, niggas still (steal) next to the 40 like GP!
They booked this so I could humble you! I said we gotta chat soon
“Main Stage Mike”, huh?…Bitch, this look like the App room!
I told niggas…wasn’t no Pay Per View, or sold figures
It’s on the App, Mike, Myers only for the Goldmembers
You a Mini-Me – Mike, stop it
This ain’t the NBA, and you ain’t “White Chocolate”
Put him in Pelican Bay and he holdin’ niggas’ right pockets!
My stock is…higher than yours, I brought the pen for you
This the difference between “I’m mortal” and “Immortal”
Ya skin boil, I’ll put ya insides in tin foil
White organs on the Black market, I can get ten for you
I was gon’ battle this dude and leave the race up out it
But he up here reachin’…wit’ a angle – now I feel a way about it!
Ain’t no way around it, yo’ pencil can’t do shit with me
If you think you punch like Magic, Mike, I’ll strip you of your dignity!
I’m convinced you was the enemy – ain’t you curious
How you beat Jones and we still don’t take you serious!? (Serius)
Yellow Gang, Yellow Gang
Yellow Tape Gang – I’ll sleep yo’ clique
I’m walkin’ ‘round wit’ the baddest thing in the building like Cheeko bitch!
I’ll sleep yo’ shit…and he on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got a whole ‘nother round of this shit!

[Round 3: Mike P]
(*to Smack*) Get me outta these small rooms
It’s gettin’ harder to write for ‘em, man
This just ain’t what the fans askin’
I feel like I got dumped, like…like, “Is it me?”
I thought what me and URL had is mutual, it was fantastic
I mean, I’m always there for you…right?
I don’t cheat, I get a call from Beas’ and…accept whatever the man matches
And as far as stoppin’ people on the rise, any time they look me in my eyes
I done settled more people bubblin’ than antacids
Immortalize him
Stomach shot – BANG! – he got the .4 beside him
BANG! 60 Minutes to live
I know Dan Rather have his core respondin’ (correspondent)!
BANG! Sawed-off airin’ the evil
Shotty short
He tried blockin’ bullets, but couldn’t get Danny the veto (DeVito)!
One shot stop any convo of who rhyme mean
You just turned 40 – I just turned the .45 and gave you five feet!
BANG! Ya hat pointed up!
Flex! I’ll make somebody Night Live if Dan act ‘roided (Aykroyd) up!
I want bodies!
Italian God, make y’all zombies
100-round drum, but 5 were sent – that’s 5 Percent: the GodBody
You? A reflection of failure with no upside round
You the small room’s version of the Upside-Down
And fuck this battle
I’m tired of havin’ these damn matches
Tiers are man-made now, from cats that hardly spit
And all y’all do is call to Answer about some damn practice
Knowin’ that the second that y’all put me on the court, I’m ‘bout to spark some shit
But OK, I guess the mission is killin’ this damn faggot
Dead man walking, I loaded the rifle wit’ zombie clips
Kill you, hit your funeral, fire into the man casket
Hit up the spot, then put the stick in ‘The Box’: I’m Roddy Ricch!
I said, Excuse Me for Being Antisocial, but I can’t not know you
You the 40-year-old dyin’ to get your stance high, so you
Sold your soul for a Rex battle instead of workin’ hard on the stage, then
That battle flopped, and you ain’t been on that big of a stage since
Your reputation, caved in
URL is some made men, that handmade shit
Worked for battles that paid, not bought battles with money you saved in, a shoebox in your basement
You ain’t Shoebox, DNA, Clips, Loaded, Hollow, Tay, Rex
You don’t even share they age, bitch
And that’s why you’re so fucking hard to relate with
And you’re so obsessed with punchlines, you don’t ever ever change shit
So face it – Danny, if you fall tonight, there’s no fall from greatness
You are the most mid-tier battler we’ve ever been graced with!
You told Hollow, “I don’t have half your popularity: I just pop you (u)”
If I was there that night after you spit that, I’d just stop you
And this is where I’ll stop you

[Round 3: Danny Myers]
I seen a picture of you, Yak girl, y’all kids-

[Mike P]

[Danny Myers]
I ain’t chillin’ shit, nigga
I seen a picture of you, Yak girl, y’all kids-

You just talked about my wife, too, nigga – fuck you talkin’ ‘bout?
I just seen a picture of-
Fuck he talkin’ ‘bout, nigga!?
Fuck him, nigga! Fuck him, nigga! Fuck him, cuh!

I seen a picture of you, Yak girl, y’all kids
It looked like God was talkin’ to y’all
It looked like one of those family portraits you see when you walk in the mall
But anytime you wife a slut, often you fall
You should’ve got Ghost, Dad
You know how many niggas walked through those walls?!
Maximum pressure, this year, I’m on my bully shit
I figured it out: “Mike P” stands for Mike Pussy-Whipped!
She is cute, ass fat – what more can you ask for?
But that pussy got more miles than Smack’s passport!
This is past war, I need y’all to promote the murder
Bitch, you heard you I’m fightin’ to get my kids back, and you look like they social worker!
The toast’ll murk ya
Y’all think Mike P fire!?
I went this whole battle and didn’t mention Street Fighter!
To beat Myers, you must be willing to fight the man
When the bell rings in the background, Ryu stands in front of M. Bison hands
Mike’ll land…out his shoes…while you in ‘em
He’ll walk barefoot to his next fight…ain’t that Ryu’s ending!?
I gave y’all Parallel Universes, now this person wanna battle me
Now let me turn SMACK into virtual reality…

(*Jerry Wess stands behind Danny with an arcade-style controller and a soundboard*)

[Mike P]
You son of a bitch…you son of a bitch

[Danny Myers]
Dude been…doin’ all these Hadoukens!
You’ve been, fooled his…whole career’s an illusion!
When he jumpin’ with the punch, he’s doin’ a Shoryuken!
When I’m jumpin’ with the punch, I’m doin’ that Nu Jerooz shit!
I leave ‘em all dogged
These battle pussies…all frauds
When Mike’s character was made in the image of Street Fighter, they changed his name to Balrog
This shoulda been called off, but I did need my cash today
White man stuck on Long Island – the body should’ve been Cast Away
This is pure will, son (Wilson)
I told y’all, Dan spits
I leave blood stains on white faces every time my hand prints!
This don’t make no damn sense!
I beat Hollow, and this who y’all hand me!?
Tell Lux he can’t avoid me, baby: ain’t no Plan B!
I’m the man, P! And you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord he ain’t got another round of this shit!

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