Mike P vs. Bill Collector [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Mike P]
Rounds 1 and 3? Me
But without my doin’ you create this pseudo embarrassment
As if my narratives…ain’t been legendary, I think you scared of it
They say I backed out?
I’m a grown man, I just got paid
Hand me the Bill, I’m takin’ care of it
This kill or be killed
Y’all feel that he’s real?
I bring electricity
You bring gas, sewage, I guess combined, we’ve supplied some utilities
Bill, but you ain’t chippin’ my pride
And from now on, I move different
So good looks, I could be gettin’ [?]
While y’all was gossipin’ like girls, I begin to jot lines
Y’all was talkin’ ’bout my life, I had pеnned the night skies
I was nowhеre near the ‘net like I missed the shot wide
And like a fresh pack of gum I had finally gotten into my Stride
I’m here to 4-4 him out
Gore is out, GOAT is back, scope attached
Couple shots, to his top, wore him down
When he dies, I make sure collect the corpse, foreign bound
Stash a Bill in Singapore like an off shore account
I’m ’bout to light the footage, like to pull it
Put a gun in your mouth
If it’s inevitable Bill, just bite the bullet
Road bumpy, but built on it like Tony Stark rooms
Catch a right hand, I pop eyes (Popeye’s) like 40’s cartoons
Revolver, spin two and a half times, that’s Tony Hawk moves
Now you a random body in the background; 40 Barrs Zooms
I was met with pressure
Added to my legacy of keeping my head together
Historic run, historic round
Leading the year by a stretch with effort
GOAT shit
You’ve been embarrassed before Bill so forget ya lectures
This year? Owed to me
When they put Bill and my name, there was a debt collector
Pay up!
If I don’t see cash than Bill may be stupid
I get real crazy movin’
I choke him with the same fabric I cut off Ryda
Tell him the silk made me do it
This ya last chance
Fuckin’ wit’ me, don’t count as Jab jabs
Bounce his memory back and forth, too many fast hands
One punch, you in 1994, ridin’ a Trans-Am
Next punch, you in 1998, emptyin’ trash cans
’84 then ’96 just visions of me flash past
Every scene it’s Michael in different times now this ya Last Dance
Tell Devil Bar I’m a Baphomet, they brought the GOAT to him pussy
I fold my bills, not fold to ‘em
Round 1

[Round 1: Bill Collector]
The beginning of ya round was very heartfelt man, some of the deepest shit that you ever spit
I felt that shit, in every way
Psych, pussy that shit was very gay
And I’m ‘bout to rap ‘bout that bitch anyway
I came here to play a game today
The first person to rap about ya girl loses
Two Rugers, the boom boomers
Wait, rewind
Last time, Ryda had you standin’ here cryin’, the boo hooser
Then you come up here and do it this time, true loser
Aye Mike, yo’ girl….BLAOW, gun shoot, Duke Nuke ‘Em
Shot hit him in the basement, he layin’ there too ruthless
You doofus, bit off more than you can chew, now you toothless
Second head shot, that’s for thinkin’ ya too roofless
Bro, are you stupid?
Y’all put Cupid versus a true nuisance
Smack, what are y’all doin’?
Super Saiyan God spirit bomb versus a [?]
I move to strike like a strong nuke and
And you feel the sting after my Cool Hand Luke, you Paul Newman
Now, about ya main hoe, that thang low
Text (TECs) ‘cross the screen, this ain’t Reading Rainbow
Are you fast? Then use your brain bro
Relay to yourself to get on track and if you sane (Usain); Bolt
Nina bustin’, Bang Bros
Catch you laggin’ the game froze
Shoot ‘til ya legs fold
Getting’ a hand me down from Mike like Tito and Jermaine clothes
Mike get the big nose, the lil’ nose
Who’s back? I’m snappin’, right?
This ‘Smooth Criminal’ ‘Dangerous’ for the Jacksons, Mike
Pistol whip him, scope bad, they couldn’t tell if he was ‘Black or White’
I, live the rapper life, gun on my waste, drivin’ slow wit’ that bitch it’s Miss Daisy
Strap with the old Slim Shady
What’s that? The Em’ (M)-80
I wanna talk about this man lady
But you rap like Dizaster/Verb, with Pat Stay style, ya pen lazy
You actin’ up? Pack him up
Peep them Pat tricks (Patricks), you been (Ben) Swayze
I’m not feelin’ ya Ghost, I deal with the most
Did time around lifers, YOU got high around pipers
B Rabbit, thought you seen the Future on screen; Mekhi Phifer
We see how they baby you here
They hold your hand, provide diapers
Think South Park, Caffeine made the kid named Tweak wild hyper
Warzone king, the wild sniper
In hindsight, you done put up more streams than prom night
The Don Dada
Then through the big smoke, we seen this baller perform grand theft and rob Ryda
Get mad, big mag’
Pussy, we don’t respect ya win
I’m not here for the debatable, I’m here to get P(ee) clean, you don’t know what kind of test you’re in (urine)

[Round 2: Mike P]
The pen, is passion
Ink carries the same depth a tattoos share, don’t fold
In and out the ring I had the past two scared
You got the burdens of dealing with a wrath you feared
Demons are a team of misfits and sometimes that’s what Bad News Bears (bares)
I get ‘em all canned
.45, come from the hip; Cody Garbrandt
Nerves, can’t send signals, I cut the broad band
Shotty? Leave you with All Saints like a broad band
Bill stop! They gon’ chalk this one to an off night
Your career is one constant treadmill of lost hype
Participation trophy for you though, you played your cards right
You helped Michael get to his goals, you Bill Cartwright
Y’all tight?
For real? It’s just fuckin’ absurd
I brought the piece y’all but Bill get runnin’ my nerves
I shot his beak off, see “kill” is a wonderful word
You know anatomy see Bill is in the front of a bird
No drama waitin’, put in work while y’all gossip and commentating
Soon as it became about just rap my style accommodated
And to act like it ain’t facts is Oscar nominating
Y’all wildin’, ever since the silence I’ve been dominatin’
Real, I hit a kill switch appealed while gainin’ interest and hundreds with or without the blue stripe
Bill ain’t any different
Battle rap and music, you the lamest of artists
You wanna be Bill Gates bitch, you Bill Gates Of The Garden
Get ready for your drop off though, this is when we down sell
You losin’ to a nice ass white boy, how swell
K sparkin’, kick back stupid, I hold it down well
Bangin’ on the side of his head, I need more cow bell
Bill Collector!
Consider that the reaper will collect ya
[?], mop you up, I’m the spill collector
Collect ya thoughts or you will get stretchered
Put a foot in your face
Invitation to the ball like Cinderella
I want bodies
Italian god make y’all zombies
100 round drum but 5 were sent, that’s 5%, the God Body
You? ‘Bout to pay for all attitude
Bill talkin’ down like that? The bullets back tattoo
I hold a MAC and strap and point it latitude
You get a gat tat tat for lack of gratitude
Keep comin’ with that lost mentality
Your ignorance is leading 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 ya false reality

[Round 2: Bill Collector]
False reality? Ha
So you sayin’ I’m fake?
So I’ma spend every fuckin’ bar this round to prove you not real yourself
Didn’t you like try to commit suicide?
Then you’se a liar
How the fuck you gon’ Kill Bill when you couldn’t kill yaself?
You the worst friend in this shit
You thought it was grown shit to sit in ya man kitchen and slit ya own wrist?
Leavin’ him with the same depression you stood there and told Suge you couldn’t cope with?
You the biggest hypocrite in the game, a whole bitch
When the shit you do get done to you, you complain, it get me so pissed
You said all that shit to Danny and then Ryda said a little bit of shit to you and you show emotions
You was the good guy here
I was the villain
All that bitch tendencies made the polls switch
From league owners to bloggers saw it
Whatchu thought? Only fans could see you doin’ the hoe shit?
So let these fuckin’ judges not pick me today
I’m hangin’ you off a roof this embedded anger
Oh y’all ain’t here me?
If he pass Bill, I’m at his White House to take him to the legislator (ledges later)
You said I lost to Kannon?
I lost to Kannon when 60% of 40% voted and Kannon went home
I was supposed to have Magic, Mike, and still managed to dance on the polls (poles)
Ask your broad, unpause, Collector is cold
I sell pot hoe (pothole), that’s word to the dent in the road
My coke is Bluetooth, it connect to the stove
This dope? Police dog, it connect to ya nose
Mike, I really rock witchu
Like everybody rocks witchu
But every time you battle here you always got these Glocks witchu
Guns in your mom’s freezer, underneath the Popsicle’s
You even keep a grip in the shower like hospitals
The lifestyle is easy to rap but shit not simple
Whatchu gon’ do if niggas wanna throw some shots witchu
Step back, crossed him twice, he catch a hot sizzle
Extra shots, first he got Roc(k) then got fizzled
Street king, make you log out with this missile
One click, shrink ya whole web like Ms. Frizzle
This McGriddle, you’re dumb Mike
You’re done Mike
Two guns
Nah, ‘Made You Look, all I need is ‘One Mic’ (Mike)
The ill ‘matic (Illmatic), pop a 30, the pill addict
The mil’ (meal) always look good ’til a Bill added
I’m still at it
Drive-by ya, dread heads in the whip, nine shottas
Spin ya block, pine box ya
Think a .9’ll miss (anonymous) tips to police (Pulice)?
Call Crime Stoppers

[Round 3: Mike P]
Bill I’m not even gonna lie bro
You’re like low key…high key, garbage
Fuckin’ lame bars
But somehow, the people eat it up…I fuckin’ hate y’all
You been trash, but blind to it early like Ray Charles
Cause I don’t see the point of being a Bill Collector if nothing pays off
You way off


[Round 3: Bill Collector]
You ended that way off
Mike you need to get yourself together, this shit got you way off
Yo, prayers up for Nu Jerzey Twork
Rest In Peace to LB The Boss
They thought cause Bill lost bro when this card he be (Cardi B) Offset so they see me take off
And wrap metal around ya head like EK in the Face Off
Oh wait, haha
Mike…I know you seen a pic of me and ya chick…and all them other pics
Had a lot of them shits
And it’s at this point this nigga lost
See, trust in a relationship…and respect, is an issue that your crew should fix for your points to get across
See, I don’t even need this silk shirt to get it off
Cause once she sat in (satin) my lap she knew I was cut from a different cloth
Nah, I’m just kiddin’ dawg, I didn’t hit ya broad
I’m like, one of the few niggas that didn’t get the drawers
But, don’t make an ass outta yourself and get dumped on cause I said some shit that pissed you off
Look at you Mike
She stressed ya life
You act tough to impress her, right?
She got you under a lot of pressure, right?
You come home late she got money on the dresser, right?
I know it sound off, but just for the record I might come press her Mike (compressor mic)
I mean, I’m not understandin’ him
What lies is she handin’ him?
That tail sell for the retail
What’s in store got him panicking
Who you ringin’ up if you catch her still in bed with another man again (mannequin)
Heard they did it ’til they was lazy, boy (La-Z-Boy)
All over Ashley Furniture from Raymour & Flanigan
She said she was his music manager?
Hey, Ash’, good way to go to the bluff
Yo’ last name Pulice (police), how the fuck you don’t know who to cuff?
You dumb fuck
She was your friend
You was thinkin’ that?
Funny, according (a cording) to Mike (mic) there was no strings attached
This kid’s a sap
Aye Smack, you know she him pop for free
Cause he know all it take is one pull to see them cherries like a slot machine
She get around like a washing machine
How you think he seen the tat
Stop it P, you’se a fool
She had Ryda (rider) in the back like an Uber pool
It nearly made you lose ya cool
You was so mad at Ryda you went on Twitter and unfollowed all of us nigga
….That’s not gon’ make her unswallow all of them niggas!
Apologies wigger
Snoop been told us “we don’t love them hoes” back in the Dub C era
She’ll destroy ya future
Dub C Era, destroy her future, man you wanted to box Ryda Dundee cause he enjoyed ya cougar?
And now I’m makin’ Mike wanna fight again like Roy Jones Junior
He’s standin’ up here like, “I am white. I am a fuckin’ fraud
I have been on the internet actin’ like a broad
And yeah Ryda did fuck my girl
I’m still standing here screamin’ ‘URL’.”
That’s how you handle it mayne?
You’re facin’ bars over a bitch like Andy Dufresne
I’m cookin’ this lame
How you landin’ the pain?
Burnin’ in oil, hand me the foil
Frank Lucas, you done let that bitch put the wrong animal on you

I like that. I might…time

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