Tay Roc vs. Mike P [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
Mike, “Pulice” really your last name?
You was dead ‘fore this even started
Smack, who told this nigga URL was Pulice (police) department?
He a target, this can of mine’ll clap
Underground is where Mike Pulice’ll rest (police arrest) like, “Hands behind your back”
You a fan of mine in rap
You are not hot
Difference between us: you play Black Ops, I got opps
Sawed-off fresh out the chop shop
Tryna stop Roc? Big round in front of Mike (mic): it ain’t a pop block
You woulda said some stupid shit in my face and got clocked
You wasn’t alarmed you at risk (wrist)? Stop, watch
I will cock Glocks while his car is in park
Brains in the whip, but everything outside of Pulice (police) car unmarked
You wanted Roc, you got the right man
I don’t like fam’
Fuck Tyson, Jordan, and Jackson: I ain’t a Mike fan
Get knocked out if you tryna fight, fam’
Your niggas gotta help you up and adjust how Mike (mic) stand
Look, white man, I’m the type to ruin your wedding
You say “I do”, I ring on him usin’ the Wesson
I’ll catch Mike and his bitch at a restaurant, beautiful setting
Then fuck Mike (mic) up in that booth: it’s a studio session
Don’t spend your quarantine money, Michael
You might go broke
If he sayin’ he fuckin’ wit’ Roc, he might blow coke
I’m on the roof wit’ it, him and his wife don’t know
Sniper rifle, everybody in Mike row scoped (microscope)
Eddie and Martin: life’s no joke
You’re a bozo
You only black (Blac) and war (Anwar) on a Champion during promo
I’ll walk up to you at an event like it’s for a photo
And have Mike stretched out under my shoes: Jordan logo
You couldn’t beat me on this Skype wit’ your best prop
Microphone and headset from your Xbox
Through the windshield the TEC pop
I left P (pee) on the side of the road: I couldn’t make it to the rest stop
Boy, you thought Caffeine was streamin’ this? They geeked you up
Mike, I will sleep you, and Caffeine won’t keep you up
Whoever wit’ you speakin’ up, I’ll lift my heater up
Give me space, and at least six feet if he deep enough
Who said he is tough? You all is frontin’
You started somethin’
If I target somethin’, your skull is crushin’
I’ll have you in the hospital, your mother in the waiting room callin’ cousins
Like “Mike hooked up to machines with all the plug-ins”
You all is bluffin’
This who y’all got to murder me?
Settin’ shit up like this, y’all got to do it purposely
I left dawg shot, the room is burgundy
I sent ‘em through P body: Institute at Johns Hopkins University
I’ll get the drop on where you live, and when I find it
Tape his mouth shut, have P silent: psychotic
You gon’ die in front of your bitch – is your broad ready?
BANG! Now the blood of P (pee) in her face: R. Kelly
Your Wolverine-in-the-face-ass, you don’t look like a beast
I’ll let it rip out the machine: it look like receipts
Look, Mike deceased
Paramedics’ll put you under covers, and you won’t even look like police
And let a nigga from your squad wanna scrap
I’ll pop the trunk and have Pulice dawg in the back
Palm it and clap, you’ll see a ‘K pop off
Knock ya block off
Brains of Pulice (police) everywhere: GTA 5 stars
Light bars

[Round 1: Mike P]
I said, um…Mr. Roc? Mr. Roc?
Oh, oh, hey, what’s up, Roc? My name’s Mike P
I’m gonna be, uh, your doctor
So I heard that you have a, uh, slight chance of dying today
So, uh, we’re just gonna go ahead and, uh, make sure that happens
You know, we’re quarantining
Disease runnin’ rampant around the world, I feel we should be scared
But Smack hit me for a quick check to get this bitch next, so I should prepare
You a mothafuckin’ virus, Tay
I’d tell it to your face if I could be there
But the government told me give you six feet…I figured I’d put you there
You fallin’ off, Roc
Losin’ battles and drop the lamest songs
Your specialty was longevity, but it looks like you won’t stay for long
I was blind to seein’ your spot bein’ took, but now the game is on
So fuck how your .50 lift
Jimmy Cliff: I can see clearly now, the reign (rain) is gone
Your throne’s in jeopardy
Been cuttin’ heads off and havin’ fun collectin’
Snub the weapon
Nah, I can’t even see if gun protectin’
Knowin’ what’s between me and Tay, so I’ll lift up the Wesson
You fucked
White boys always good at shootin’ Roc(k) uncontested!
Bitch, I’ll hit you wit’ that same ‘douken that slumped Tink
You suck now, you was better back then like punk pink
Your Funk stinked, you Flexed on nothin’
Fuck does this cunt think?
Try throwin’ hands, I’ll lift my shield in the front like Young Link
When I hop off stage, they say “Mike P on one”
Been off the main stage, so they give me someone that be on one
So fix ya face or get 9, clown
I’ll give Roc(k) a Friday Night SmackDown if you do so much as raise an eyebrow
Die, clown
Been savin’ for the real battle, to have your soul removed
So everything I want to say to you, I’m not going to
But show and prove
Catch you quarantining, put an arm to Tay
The window’s where I ram Roc
You’ll see red in the glass like Chardonnay-
Do Maryland got lakes? ‘Cause I’m goin’ for a slaughter
If martial law’s in effect, ain’t takin’ mothafuckin’ orders
You talk crazy? Get killed in front of your mothafuckin’ daughter
If I ever skip Roc(k) bein’ sideways, I’ll throw him in the water!
To hell you! Air you!
Two blades, pair you
Vers’ Jones you told me “Rap!”
Vers’ chrome, you’d tell me spare you
You wouldn’t shoot shit
Bring a new fif’ to who plot wit’ you
That’s Jackson vibes
Michael got the green light behind if Roc(k) Wit’ You
Shit-talker!
I’ll break a knuckle in your frail mouth, Roc
Not one person in your fake gang could bail out Roc
If you in public, you done with
I’ll air out Roc
Elvis Presley: you better off hidin’ in a Jailhouse, Roc(k)!
Put him down now
Weapons out, he get the pound now
Two fifs, on the hip for a square: “Bring it around town!”
URL-
That woulda fuckin’ blew a URL main stage off the roof
URL hit me to battle, I’m goin’ off on you
Fuck Tay Roc – I’ll drive to Maryland and cough on you!
Bitch! You ain’t no real man
You just sit and collect your checks in
We was on a business call with Caffeine, and you ain’t interject a second
You were smoking blunts and dropping your calls
This kid a mess – you threatenin’?
Fuck I look like losin’ to a terrible Internet connection?
You a sucka, yes
Fuck a vet, I’ll damage your rep’
My pure game like your chain: you’d be embarassed to set
That’s a fuckin’ round right there
Let’s go

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