They ask me, “How do you prepare for a Bar God?”
I tell ’em, “Dark room.”
I was grippin’ my toast tight
Told the body relax and let the ghost write
Phantom flow, cannon blow
His wings spread as the angel rise from his hood like a Rolls Royce
I said, damnit, damn, Tink, get it right…
I said, damn, take it back, fuck it
I said, they ask me, “How do you prepare for a Bar God?”
I tell ’em, “Dark room.”
Grippin’ the toast tight
I meditated, the pen levitated
I told my body relax and let my ghost write
Phantom flow, cannon blow – old voice!
His wings spread as the angel rise from his hood like a Rolls Royce
I exposed my last opponent as a thief
Now the judges get to see you stealin’ my style, dummy
You remind me of Al Bundy, ’cause even though you Married…With Children…
The pen is scary
One last sin to bury
I’ve come to kill a family cat like Pet Sematary!
I was raised at The Last House on the Left, in a haunted basement
Can make a chess move without a pawn to play wit’
The blade a groupie
I had people under my stairs before they made the movie!
My dog died, I would sleep in his cage
My frog died, tried eatin’ his legs but couldn’t stomach it!
I take pride and humble it!
You gotta know who you fuckin’ wit’!
Fuck ya angles about my mini-me, and how you had to kill you a Reaper (Reepah) just to get to me
Danny, you a mere mortal that’s here to mimic me
Whole ‘nother energy
I’m pure evil and bad energy
Know real killers that wouldn’t play ’round me, or play ’round us
Through the consequences, ’cause I lay down stuff
Muzzle on the miniature Uzi
Forest Whitaker movie: I Ghost Dog on his Greyhound bus!
Oh, I’mma torture you
The fans want me to talk to they God like I’m a oracle
25K on the line, I’m killin’ four of you!
Wit’ southpaw tactics, I’m unorthodox
Can make the skin on ya scalp crawl backwards from a .40 Glock
Think it’s a game? Please
And I’ma squeeze a Parabellum at the side of yo’ cerebellum, until the brain freeze
And expose anatomy
Top open it’s a frozen daiquiri
I know what torture meant way before these tournaments
So when I say, “Ya family next” gettin’ torn I meant
The whole house will hang from a tree just like they ornaments
[Round 1: Danny Myers]
Last round they gave me Death, I left that bitch astonished
Now there’s a Demon, I see (I-C)…this shit ’bout to get Demonic!
I promise, I’ll do some shit disturbin’ to him
Like me and his youngest child watching A Serbian Film
See if his nephew can stand slashes, rip up his niece fantastic
Then I’ll let something bubble in his stomach, then give his aunt acid (Antacid)!
This bitch handcrafted, I’ll let the machine ring
The hole expose the nigga behind you like 40 with the green screen!
I do obscene things, gruesome shit to cruise the tournament
Like ripping out his kidneys during Christmas to use as ornaments
I’m warning him, they usually want to cast out a Demon
But I wanna cover his body in cement and make a cast out a Demon!
Razor blade to his daughter’s eyes, the sound she made, you’ll never hear such
I told that bitch, “Cry me a river,” as I was tearing out her tear ducts
You weird fuck, you rip stomachs, and put your arm in the guts
Like that’s supposed to freak me out…that shit normal to us!
I could have a Mossberg plug you
We got ARs, AKs, HKs, shit reminds you of a crossword puzzle!
I’m trouble, I’m here to put the pen on display
Let’s start with a name flip, Tink can get ten from a K (Tin K)!
Wait, that was cool, I would let a clip fly
But when I hear TI ‘N K’s I get a snitch vibe!
Bitch, I keep sick heaters
The Demon, just talkin’ ’bout a clip like the Crypt Keeper!
Big sweepers, I can’t reside in the dirt
I went from the Reaper to the Mortician: I died in reverse!
This guy finna hurt, I’ll use this knife outta line
I’ll cut out his clavicle, then wipe it clean: I’m past white-collar crime!
Hell is divided into 9 circles so when Lucifer invites us
I’ll tell him that I’m used to being in cyphers
We cold with the squeezin’, it’s no intervenin’
You trip, we comin’ back with a pole in the evenin’
He tried to buy some Jordans from me, I told em no, it’s a reason
That’s Illuminati, why sell my sole (soul) to a Demon!
I feindin’ to squeeze up top ’til his head swells
This pole was designed for a body like bed rails
You got a dead smell, and you on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got another 2 rounds of this shit
[Round 2: Tink Da Demon]
[Round 2: Danny Myers]
Nigga, I should…
Nah, I ain’t fightin’ yo’ big ass…I aim at a enemy
I keep something in storage, that’ll (data), tear a bite (Terabyte) out ya skull…thanks for the memory!
It’s penalties, for not fightin’, I’m like a Klitschko figure
My pops didn’t care if he was the size of the Big Show with ya
That’s even more reason to let ya fist go quicker
I’m from Cali, we known for droppin’ a six fo’ nigga!
Still I’m a pistol gripper, you’d be amazed what the beam’ll lift
Akuma wasn’t the first nigga to make a “Demon Flip”
We had the meanest strip, all day we used to serve fiends dope
I never seen a Demon in the trap like 13 Ghosts
You rap about the worst things bro, like how he’ll chop and then poke ya
Skin the body, feed the carcass to a flock full of vultures
You crush baby brains, then sip it on the rocks with mimosas
The only thing scarier than that…is yo’ stock in the culture!
I’ll put on a stocking, approach ya, bitch, my whole team is lively
My niggas’ll shoot out both pupils: don’t demonize (demon eyes) me!
You don’t like how Ryda name his guns? Me neither
But I will introduce you to my blade…meet (meat) Cleaver!
You got a freak diva, I said “You a slut”?, she said “Definite”
She’s a Leo, that likes to sleep in the bare (Bear) like The Revenant
I’m at ya residence, with evil intentions, on everythang
Even if its SILENT he’ll (Hill) realize we play DEADLY GAMES!
She pregnant?, we torture bitches, I’ll do something more than vicious
Rip out ya unborn at 5 a.m….that’s morning (mourning) sickness
I’m from war conditions, any beef my crew bombin’
I’ll kill the Hunger Gamez for a few Ramen
Gotta watch what you say around Crips, it’s new problems
Niggas dyin’ over one B (Be) word is too Common
Mobbin’, hold ya mom under ice, she gets no relief
She said “I’m too cold!”, I told her, “Don’t panic”: you a slogan thief!
You know it’s beef, bitch I run with a lotta crooks
Even our kids got more obituaries than comic books!
Pops gave me a strap, he said this if you ever need to use it
My family maniacs, we got the felonies to prove it
I ain’t wanna shoot this nigga, but a force compelling me, it’s ruthless
I mean, I got a Demon over my shoulder: something telling me to do it!
Brain-dead or paralyzed? What’s a worse fate?
Well since he from Delaware I’ll put him in the First State
We burst eights, and he on the ground with this shit
This wack MC got a whole ‘nother round of this shit
[Round 3: Tink Da Demon]
[Round 3: Danny Myers]
Dog, we some evil ass niggas, people know us ’cause we spit vicious
I mean I’m not the most handsome dude in the world, but tell me…how you get bitches?
He be like “Hey girl, my name is Tink…Da Demon…I’m looking for something serious
I’ll eat ya pussy…no, literally eat it ’til it’s bleedin’ like a period!
Gimme ya number, but don’t cheat, or fuck over me
‘Cause I’ll reach inside ya pussy and pull out both ovaries!”
Dude, I get it!
Totally, you not street, you just fakin’ action
Now let me see if Tink about it, like Jamaican accent!
I’ll make it happen, get up close and clap one of these
Y’all gone see the Demon come out like when you touch a Black woman’s weave!
I’ll smack one of these…bitch-ass niggas, go ‘head, try ya luck
You got aim like Robin Hood? Well, nigga, I keep a fryer (Friar Tuck) tucked!
Y’all know how Myers cut, I do this for the right cause
URL pay these niggas, and they don’t even like y’all
Smack, stop giving me these mid-tiers, you see how I fight, dog
Now let me expose these names like Epstein’s flight log!
White boy dissed my wife, I showed y’all Mike soft
Mr. Wavy, gon’ learn performance comes at a high cost!
You run with a Nun(n), I’ll give his ass the right cross
And Bill be too high: I’ll turn his muthafuckin’ lights off!
I’m quite raw, y’all know how I do
And I should slap Method Man for How High 2!
I’m holdin’ his baby out the window, he lookin’ up, I’m ’bout to catch a case
I let her go, he almost caught her, damn…he can’t catch a break!
This where we seperate, you nice, but bitch, I’m in Boss Mode
When Robert Johnson sold his soul for the guitar, I met the demon at the crossroads
I give niggas the blues!
Take ya bitch for ransom, I need six, please
She can’t talk with a magazine in her mouth, you better lip-read!
His body twitch, bleed, still movin’ after the clappin’
Roc vs. Daylyt: “How am I getting a reaction!?”
He just came from prison, and y’all thinkin’ he different
I heard niggas didn’t take yo’ ass in jail, but they was TINKering with it!
Remember you called me from jail, I said damn you ain’t home yet nigga?!
And in the background somebody was saying “Phone check nigga”!
You said “Danny I gotta go!”, see you talk shit to me, but you a lotta ho
A Nigga yo’ size confront you, you ain’t with the drama though!
You ol’ Junkyard Dog lookin’ ass nigga, I know you wanna punch me
Talking ’bout he from Hunger Gamez, look like he don’t play no games when he’s hungry!
Gimme my money, and you on the ground with this shit
Thank the Lord he don’t got another round of this shit
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