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Correct Danny Myers Vs. Chef Trez Lyrics
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Correct Danny Myers Vs. Chef Trez
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[Round 1: Chef Trez] Yo, how the fuck is this a look for me? My stock higher, what's in store? A youngin' givin' an old head a shot, this The Wire You are not ready, we ain't teammates no more, do not test me But if we was, you would've got this beatin' down the block like a boxed Chevy All them children you got, and you think you can son me to add a blessing? Well let me add a lesson, ain't an adolescent Nigga got ten kids, you want another boy? Well here, MAC-11 Buckle down, the deuce? Compact But this photo, fuckin' wild, you'll get your vehicle flipped Now you gotta get it fixed Peep the double clown? Two, photo, vehicle, fix, let me dumb it down That's you in a hospital, having to recoup so Dan (Sedan) gotta recover now When shit went left, right, I stayed down 'til I came up I am a cheat code, jackpot, he seen more rounds than a damn casino Reload the clip, but this batch legendary; Dan DeVito Try to run in Florida, but I caught a bat (quarterback); Dan Marino Fuck Danny, catch him in South Central, squeeze and shoot You point the deuce then I point the deuce, let's make a sequel too (two) Keep it cool, send him to Heaven's gates, make sure he reach it too I mean I used to look up to Danny, and now I've got more reason to When you mention me, don't say "rookie" cause my warning shot meaning your top gettin' grazed bully Right down the middle, split a bald head, it look like shaved pussy You rap random shit, and the fans and shit, love what you do I'm direct and real, I could get sent to rehab for substance abuse Watch how I do you worse Mom and daughter box right next to each other, you gotta talk to them through the dirt Side by side, now try to escape that parallel universe I say this nigga done, as far as love, he ain't gettin' none We both brothers, but I'm my mother different son Quick to get a gun They say he the target, be with the shit or run Code word "Clifford", leave dawg covered in red Copy, blaow mission done Y'all say Loso is my best showing, am I gonna snap against the Bar God Well if you seen my Loso work, you would know I had to literally out bar God Get ya body broke, think it's gon' be a classic match I wish you would spaz for any fightin' words If you Loaded with Verbs you need a good cast Where your hood pass? Nigga been bitchin' tryin' to find home Ya stock low so (Loso), I see why you in all these different type of Rhymezones You tryin' to get ya groove back, old school cat Well I seen it all from drugs to tools clack Even positive shit was hard to do, playin' ball had nowhere to shoot at No full courts, just one hoop, Nino in New Jack And that parallel universe shit? I been through that My mans was on the outside puttin' the tre to nigga's noodles I was on the inside raisin' the tray for a soup pack Question: if I shoot is you gonna shoot back? You send TECs (texts), we all send TECs (texts), this shit is a group chat First two, boom bap Third round, move back Extended, take it from a snippet to a loop track I'm [?] where you can't kill, ain't nothin' you say real Try to get in my way, chill Talkin' Super Fly I'll push your (pusher) man to the side; Curtis Mayfield Break in his house, in and out, he thought he seen a demon Put the .40 to his bitch but the thirty eight (ate) his kids like the queen of England You'll get the head shot, red dot, [?] Red Fox This, comin' with a clear case; Redbox This bitch lit, the clip twist like a dreadlock The clip and grip, together they stick together; wedlock [Round 1: Danny Myers] I'm cold now, and I was cold back then You said MAC-11? I'll have some Inglewood Bloods pull up on you and hit you wit' the MAC-10 (Mack 10) And fuck yo' people too, I'll knock you on the ground You used to look up to me, now you got a reason to! Bar God! First of all young nigga, I'ma bar you to death, but peep this other shit I got 10 kids and don't see none of ‘em, and every night I cry because of it My wife is strugglin' with addiction, that's my karma from all the hustle shit Plus I'm 39 and still battle rappin', I ain't the one you wanna talk struggle with But here's what you'll struggle with, Shotgun, then it's the small mag turn This shit'll have you swirl on ya heels like the Jamal Mashburn's You just now puttin' highlights in ya dreads, we don't do that shit where I'm from This new generation, always wanna die (dye) young Look here lil' nephew, ain't no punk in this one See how got that ahnk on ya eye?...BAOW now you got unk on this one You got the height, and the reach on me, of course we can dance I'll just have to spear you, then I'll have Ryda stand behind you in the Scorpion stance I stopped in Compton, I saw my gun plug for the hammer Now I'm here to address (a dress) a Yung Thug from Atlanta When you was with Writers Bloque, yo' pen was seemin' legit Ever since you got in the Cave I seen The Descent The Mossberg'll ventilate this cat That's not a hole in ya chest bitch, that's our generation gap Four bar set ups, versus line for line, nigga you can't match this rate I'm known to historical black, fuck anything Jackson State Clap the 8, I gotta spaz on fam' The way he was shot, them Hoop Dreams gone look bad on cam' Keep losin' watch ya crew depart ya They got a west coast nigga with this Chef bitch like Snoop and Martha Remember we was in Memphis, and you had yo' gun on the dresser, talkin 'bout yo' lost ones and how you mourn em? I was thinkin ''bout grabbin' it, being a good friend and helping you join ‘em But this still a shot, this battle is uppin' ya stock It hurt me when you joined the Cave and jumped from the Bloque Now I feel like Nino on the roof Cause I'm sick that I gotta kill my own lil bro for fuckin' with Roc(k) Blaw! Tay Roc, you put your favorite in yo' shadows But you out here...see see (CC) I'll just save it for the battle That's light My nigga Big Money used to steal from his own family, I told buddy he should stop One day his dad's rent came up missing and he went running for the Glock Do you believe in a Parallel Universe? I do I cried on his casket and it comes to me as shock Cause right after his dad killed Money he found the Money in a box That sickness you livin' with...no joke, that's just the realest shit To cure it, you'll need a stomach shot...and I'm here to deliver it Let's get deliberate, you rep yo' hood, you and yo' thugs mobbin' But it's funny how none of them Bloods can help you with yo' Blood problem You been sick ya whole life, and y'all said this boy can hang? He was throwin up Blood way before you joined a gang I point and bang, you can die from the Glock, or from this poignant slang Cryin' about Summer Madness, you went from gangsta to annoyin' lame This ain't about comp', this about jealousy, and I been seen it So I gotta black on Jackson like Mike before the skin treatment You pen weak shit, and you on the ground with this shit This wack MC got another 2 rounds of this this shit Yikes! [Round 2: Chef Trez] Yo, you said a whole bunch of nothin', same shit as every battle That's why you the Bar God in this sport but honestly you don't even matter See that gangsta shit you talkin', you could really see the TEC fly from Chef, split him in half This MAC-10 (Mack 10), no pieces from the Westside'll Connect' Fans tellin' me he ain't ready, he says nothin' wild A buncha nerd shit, dumb ass word flips, his stupid fuckin' style All that duckin' clown, felt like you was givin' me the runaround Said no to the big stage, but accepted the small room like the youngest child You really want me to target you off the rest? Single you out when squeezin' a round? Well it's you that I'll test, I'll put a gun from the right side but then it'll shoot out his left That' 2Pac, came from the east but blew out the west This man frail Shots turn him into a bitch, you know how I can tell? Cause hollows had him hollerin', soon as they hit him we heard Dan yell (Danielle) The gun got a body and it got a body, so don't be the one that I gotta body Ask Loso, I already sent God a body When I lift up, gotcha name on it, this shit a fan sign The gun pointed right ya way, blew out his damn mind I can't step in ya court Think that, NBA man dyin' The bullets headed to ya Wiz', I can update a Franchise We can fight, I'll take a jab at him I'll get a knife, slash his lungs, or two grips, I can blast the gun .40, .30, that 70's Show I doubt Danny matters, son (Masterson) I'll slide on his block in a foreign whip, the dot like a Christmas tree when I shoot it off And I'll hop out that bitch and put you next to the sheet rock Am I losin' y'all? Well since you like anime, I'ma put that in cartoon for y'all Jumpin' out the Phantom with the green beam, I'll put Danny through the wall I do numbers with these guns What I'm tryin' to say bro, .45 or .50, I can raise or drop one What's ya weight goals? I keep one .9, one .40, this shit a safe code And I'll put a pound to one like a gate code I need that Summer Madness plate, this just a warm up I couldn't focus before much, my mental was worried about real life and some more stuff And that'll have a rap in many different states, like a tour bus But when you think about the names I faced, it's like Smack tried to sit me down But I stood my ground and made every appearance count I ain't lost a round yet in these small rooms, clearly clown I went from Volume 1 to Volume 4, if y'all couldn't then, I bet they hear me now Let's level up, when I reach for the arm he (Army) better move militant or get his grill torched He seen the latter, now he jumpin' in-between rounds like a drill course Look soldier, why you cross my path and step on my foot for? I'm just speakin' in general, but any flogging will get ya cap pushed forward I tried to imitate ya style, but while doin' the shit, I had to quit legit, dawg I felt stupid as shit Battle rap is ya life, well let me step in ya world then Your life revolves around three rounds so I bring a revolver around ya life and three rounds will make ya world bend I'll squeeze the shit, you don't hear a squeak and I don't speak of it I present a gun with a silencer, I literally plead the fifth If I release it quick, he tried to dip but bro too late Chopper, 100 rounds, the drum stick on a side like a soul food plate This dude all hyphy, not even nice it had me threw off highly The Bar God? He doesn't lose y'all writing? You should be blessed for me even lettin' you talk by me Now I gotta black on God, I'm Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty You gettin' buried today, you swear you droppin' knowledge but we don't care what you say It's too far fetched, nigga every Jim carried (Carry'd) away [Round 2: Danny Myers] You got on AngryFan and said "Nigga fuck you" on some young shit I helped "3 Of Them Thangs" get to where it is, now yo' gun gripped Plus the hood that you rep, is from my city lil' nigga Now that's two things the West gave for you to run with Go to yo old battles, look in the comments, who said you was next up? And you snaked me John John tried to help build you up, and you snaked him Then you left Writers Bloque, that's why I don't fuck with you scary leeches Once we saw the cross, you were placed behind Roc...(Rock) that's how they buried Jesus You gone fall out with yo' crew, and Tay Roc takin' the blame Cause he shoulda known you can always find a snake in a Cave Called me a old man, that's true, been rappin' since at least ten But at least then to be nice you had to have an elite pen I'm from the Golden Age, where you had to be rappin' for progress I'm trapped in my era, but Atlanta niggas trapped in the closet Back to the topic, all that gang shit, that's from the coast nigga Too much brim, get you socked in the face, ask Dose nigga You know what y'all "Chef Life" niggas be doin'? Bootleggin' Pay Per Views Y'all ain't cockin' a pistol I ain't gone lie SMACK, I be on there watchin' it with ‘em But when you give 12 thousand to the culture all for yo' penmanship I'm supposed to get a URL Pay Per View Lifetime Membership Let's end this shit, I run up on this switchin' bitch with the extended clip I'm in front of the Chef and only see (sea) food, that's Fish N Chips Chess got your triple your views, they really don't mess with Trez You was supposed to be one of the Young Guns like Emilio Estevez But you dealin' with death instead, this ain't no friendly or no happy shit We ain't supposed to have guns, but we still (steel) cop on some Chappie shit I'll slap this bitch, I dare you to put yo' hand out I was thinkin' 'bout giving Jackson 5...but the solo one is the standout You always sayin' "Nawf" "Nawf", nigga we know you 'bout that life Bitch it's north, and I'ma beat you 'til you pronounce it right I'm down to fight, watch how quick you catch this counter right Cause you represent "Mumble Rap" and all you niggas sound alike It's goin' down tonight, I'm here to take back my stage I got the .30 and the .9...It's time I act my age Look at the names you under, Roc, Ave, Brizz, nigga ya role minor Ya career got lost in the Cave like a coal minor You in and out of jail, you got a short temper, extreme violence Beam on top of his head...he needs guidance I don't need silence, we breakin' through ya window seal Somebody gotta hear this pain...it's got that demo feel It don't get mo' real, we at his do', my whole crew shook him Niggas excited, outside the entrance...like new pussy Fuck you gone do pussy? You'll bleed on the blade until it's real sticky Y'all won't believe the tone comin' out this nigga like Lil Bibby Deal with me, from the shoulders, catch my punch nigga Y'all won't remember "The Chef" after the Deck like 'Triumph' nigga I don't like young niggas, and you on the ground with this shit This wack MC got a whole 'nother round of this shit Yikes! [Round 3: Chef Trez] Yo, you be yellin' and shit I just get busy my nigga we spaz different You got a bald head since you was ten I been shootin' bald heads outta MAC-10, nigga the pass different My buzz crazy Smoke week, but you get the low buzz nigga, you on drugs daily Matter of fact, let me just switch that and blast Smith &'s Cause you said somethin' 'bout "Math" and "brim" Or the brim and the Dose, well pull my numbers and you will see that the Math different I go crazy I beat you the first two rounds now I can freestyle shit What's Writer's Bloque? Shit you get when you hang around him Aye, but Writer's Bloque was that squad, huh? We all was killers But me, Magic, Nitty, Daylyt, shit even my dawg Chilla All the niggas with a million views in a single battle, you never saw them figures We brung mils (meals) to the Bloque (block) you was just eatin' off of niggas Let's get it straight, real niggas respect those who earn shit But you bein' foul, I'll have no choice but to compare it (parrot) to some bird shit You named yourself "Bar God" and that's one of the reasons we don't like you You think you Jay-Z, givin' yourself your own title (Tidal)? You said you was 39? I let 40 hit you before your birthday, that nigga age quick Let's get more witty tho' The semi blow, I'm hit DM wit' a clip like "Share my video" Fuck whatchu tellin' me I got a six shooter, the barrel look dirty and rusty it been through hella beefs It's a .38 I let it speak It look old wit' a wide nose, that's the closest to Lux and Mook you will ever be Look at him! Up here lookin' nervous, figures I'll pistol whip him, he can't guard the handle, I'm Kyrie Irving mixture Nah, what I draw legendary, it paint the perfect picture Nah, this ratchet leave DM red (read) she known for curvin' niggas You a fake nigga, ya block lit You from South Central, I know where you stay nigga You was wit' the Boyz N The Hood but always hopped out when shit got real You be Tre (betray) niggas I say so fuck if they tough on yo' block, you pussy witcha scared ass When you even mention some gang shit, for a set you ain't never let ya lead blast But y'all don't gotta question what I am, or you'll be dead fast Just pay attention to the signs, it'll raise a red flag You was playin' fightin' games, knife games, usin' Zelda/Blanca I was wit' niggas and bitches wit' mob ties, Al Capone, Griselda Blanco Nigga fuck all that made up shit, I know dawg a coward You like books bro? Well I know some that'll have you [?] for hours Like you ever read 'The 48 Laws Of Power'? Nah, I mean he get out the .40; 8 he at a loss of power I'm on Satan fire when I'm mad as shit I go against the Bar God, the Devil's advocate This weapon, blastin' it I let 'em noun for the tough adjectives for the bad language I got AR's, AK's, come learn about acronyms You start somethin' in one round then end with another, that shit dumb I am a fuckin' delinquent, so if I start with one round and end with another it's cause I switched guns But this kick? Ridiculous when I'm aimin' wit' this power I won't miss shit It's a hit, every time, like I'm singin' in the shower It's a lullaby, gun in his face, soon as he stutter- lull a baow! Nah, I say I don't got a blazer, it's a knife so if you slack I'll be at your neck Cuttin' ties They like, "What kinda knife you got Trez?" They thought I was lackin' cause I ain't clutch the .9 So I had to wing it with somethin' smooth, it's a butterfly I'm takin' this shit serious man, I can't let him murk me You can never hurt me, I was goin' through crazy shit, I'm talkin' 730 The laws and real struggles was doin' me hella dirty Holdin' me back, but Danny, I just wanted my freedom in Life I'm Eddie Murphy [Round 3: Danny Myers] He said somethin' about uh, Boyz N The Hood Tre Mmmh, you betrayed me, I thought you'd be boys with me But I guess this shirt right, you can't manufacture real loyalty You got in this game when you was 16 and hit a point I was certain you would reach We have a tendency to herald (Harold) Minors (miners) when they workin' with some Heat Plus you think you "Baby Jordan", and when y'all do that, y'all become targets You'll be in the shadows if it's 2 23's (.223) like his son Marcus These ain't bars bitch, these are paragraphs of strife It's funny how you wanna give John 3 16's but won't have Everlasting life You beat the Christian, no mercy, it was wild disturbin' This gone be a negative image of the god like the "Shroud Of Turin" I stood before a thousand wordsmiths, left ‘em speechless They think they cold war vets until their placed into the vortex You's a whore Chef, jump crew to crew, and you ain't the lead You got on Live and said you make the leagues, but you rap cause you couldn't make the league You're all make believe, that's why I keep somethin' that'll lift the kid I'm tryna put a Springfield inside of a dome like the 'Simpsons' did I watched you write whole battles in 30 minutes, I don't like this Cave bitch How the fuck does a "Chef" come with all this microwave shit? You spit yo' best bars on Gates Of The Garden, but I'ma nigga you can't make quit Tonight San and Dre is (San Andreas) at fault you can't shake shit Cave Gang, this y'all New Edition? the nigga ain't worth a red cent Y'all shoulda seen the 'Sensitivity' every time Trez vent (Tresvant) But 'A Man Like Me' became a legend, because I be consistent It's gone be the Cave behind the fall like a secret entrance Get decommissioned, I live by the street values If I shoot you with a silencer at this event it'll speak volumes Versus Loso you were conflicted on Heaven or Hell, he not sane In the end you'll go where the Father wants you to go like He Got Game Why you speak my name? What's up with ya credentials? Get one sent (cent) in Orlando, injury fuck up ya potential But in my first round I mentioned Memphis, and college, nigga you gettin' barred today It's the same reference to Penny, I just did it the harder way (Hardaway) And I got on Foams, what you spit out ya mouth sounds dumb boy With no backing, I got in this game and made dumb noise In this round I mentioned, Harold Miner, Jordan, Jordan son, He Got Game and Penny, you realize what I done boy? I did that to remind you how you fucked up with the NBA young boy (NBA YoungBoy) Speaking of NBA, don't ever threaten to squeeze on Myers Get hit with 3 of them thangs in a row...he's on fire! Mean ol' sniper, I had to sell it and I hate the shit Cause it taught me how to deal with pussy in a long distance relationship BAR GOD 30 round clip, you can't escape this death I'm puttin' substance inside of the mil (meal) let's get creative Chef I'll rake his flesh, serrated blade, then the shit stops The Chef been cookin' for the money until he gets 'Chopped' They stopped the food stamps, and it changed the way I look at flesh Cause hunger makes you crazy, a nigga might have to cook the Chef Ayo Brizz, Volume 5 comin'...you ducked me on Traffic and still runnin' Smack turnin' up these Volumes, yet I don't hear nothin' You a college boy nigga, you don't tuck no Llama I'll kidnap yo' daughter, to get her back you gotta fuck yo' mama You motherfucker! The gun'll buck ya, and he on the ground with this shit Thank the Lord he don't got another round of this shit Yikes!
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