[Verse 1: Daylyt]
(I’m here, I’m here)
(Alright, let’s get it)
Make some noise if everybody hear
I just hope y’all listenin’
I said
The last hope for spazz-quote respectin’
The flow outer space dog, I been astral projectin’
Hibernation through cyberspaces
Vibrant this guy been chasin’, the Lord features
But he don’t understand the GOD you facin’
Wowzers ya missile track, well that’s what the eye erases
Lost thought, most have no idea, the PG’s: My creation
I was the first weapon on the Tekken
They scream King whenever they pick this cat
Second fragrance, I was sent to fix this trap
The URL pyramid scheme, I dreamed
We could stick to sweet bars if we involved Twizz to snap
I called Norbes, told him to book John John vs Nuborn
I called Norbes, told him to book Daylyt vs YK
He said “We may need a name for that, in case the event get packed.”
I said “Throw it in the small room, 300 people, call it the Proving Grounds.”
Norbes, can you agree that this is facts?
So why should I be afraid of this kid pen
When I gave birth to a world for you to exist in!?
Who, knew
Security would be something that the building gon’ regard?
Look at my trailer, notice the old TV show
All My Children on the card
But just for you takin’ me
You have awakened the PG God from the slumber
The first starvin’ on us, it’s only gonna increase the hunger
You are a product of my creation, I have no desire to kill you
This shit right here, only gon make you stronger
{Puts On Ski Mask}
Last time I was here my buzz was slappin’
Summer Madness 3 was the mark out for Smack to be
I told him I would clap the heat for the rapper fee
They packed the streets sharp and attacked Marie
It was 106 but shit the act was free
I lied, like I quadrupled my five hundred
Which got me double banned
Man, they said Daylyt act too G
But to keep it two stacks
They done gave me my second grand entrance
And the decision was prime, envision my spine
I guess Daylyt back ya see
To all my haters who said I’d never taste the Smack stage again (licks floor)
Well it tastes like Smack to me!
(Let’s rap)
(Where my hat at baby?)
(Let’s go, enough of that, let’s rap)
[Takes Off Ski Mask]
Y’all want me to kill this white girl on cam?
Then anything on the lens he low hand
Check the quote scan
It’s about to get big bitch, sit calm
Pay attention to what the front row sayin’
For you to put an end to this smoke
You gon need a Genesis choke
You wouldn’t see me Earl if they brought Toejam
My momentum bakin’, I go HAM
Split his throat gland
A big knife is what I love, nigga I’m a Conan
See you got too prep for the Baphomet
I told you I’m the GOAT man
This one gon’ get a mill
Long as Norbes bring me my lunch back
Hunchback traitors play Spartan scene
I depart my mean target, [?]
The kid cursed without the Cartman scream
When I get mad I hand words for the pick
Spit like the Arthur meme
I arch a beam, spark the thing
Get tore when I Glock em
Say I ain’t gon spark the thing, I King Arthur lean
I’m swored in to rock him
You shoulda knew I’d do my job all night
I’m used to slave chores
You shoulda known I would go to work in the room
This what I was made for
They book you, only to get ya page tore
Wage score
Braids, fade
I’m headlinin’, plus I get paid more
The small box is shockin’, that’s what I gotta taste for
We smoke anything in the room, who ordered hemp bones?
The heat seek will go wherever you go boss
You all get sent strong
You gets no action with me bitch, you are the friend zone
(Keep it going?)
A Glock will leave his whole house rocked, You are a Flintstone
(Time)
[Verse 1: Mike P]
(Ya hear me? Ya hear me?)
(That was really good rapping by the way, you’re really good at rapping)
I said
The world’s most respected stage, if Smack in the house
I came to pluck them Quill feathers…and scatter em out
Take every bad word you had about URL and shove it back in your mouth
So don’t play, but yo, Day
Welcome to your first battle that counts
(Turn up)
A fool spittin’
Turn a dry driver into a tool drippin’
The bird’s eye with the Hawk will turn Quill to a stool pigeon
Get a blade, and put it back into Day, that Erykah Badu vision
The plot? Put Campbell in a box: this a soup kitchen
I said you kiddin’
Think you stroll in, shit paid for
Spit your stupid over-the-headers, little punches to make sure
You a cancer to the culture, but terminal then I’ll make yours
For all of the sick reasons you’re on this stage for
(Stop, stop, chill, chill, chill, let me rap)
But they say I’m crazy takin’ you
So you wanna get in the mosh pit?
You little sus’ motherfucker with heat: you on that Bosh shit
Don’t care what you got, bitch
Flare if you pop, Crip
Bouillon cubes: I done cooked somethin’ up to put a square in some hot shit
You are racking up mileage!
It’s funny you tried to tire Iron
Yet forced your pen to exhaust your hobby
You couldn’t leak gas
Yet your fuel ran out and it all went sloppy
I hear death racin’ in your voice
Day tone a homi
Get in gear, I’m ahead Lyt
And the drive I got makes this an auto-body!
Man, you done picked a fight with Spartacus and hell rose
Tell ya honey dip
She can watch you gettin’ punched through the Net
I am Carter with the elbow
Outbar me? Hell no
Ya man sing and you get metal across ya mouth
That’s the start of the Chappelle’s Show
I said, what you want, Lyt? You want light?
Well I have brights to bring to you
Electric, ballin’ out, the past life was Pikachu
I spot Lyt, he in the spotlight
I close in, but I don’t blink at you
The gun in hand, you runnin’, man: at night I think of you!
Scratch that
Soon as they booked the match, it was hook and jabs
The plan is just to tell you where I’m from before we fight…like a Brooklyn cat
The strap fire, don’t look at that
When it’s on me, wow
It’s like a girl that suck at doggy style: there’s no lookin’ back
Speakin’ of lookin’ back-
Speakin’ of lookin’ back, you still claimin’ OVO?
Oh, oh, that’s the side that you pretend?
You need redemption, so you crawl here ’cause your hype dyin’ again?
You’ll be forty, producin’ the same views
Shall I remind you again?
You’ve never progressed
It’s the same song with a hot line at the end!
This shit is mine now
I’m still here fake
I pop cons who can’t control a crowd when they put a line down
I flip a Crip with a piece of mine now
Let us turn the six upside down, he’s a nine now
I said
Fuck reactions, but if they let em in, Day
The name remains on the chest: it’s a Letterman’s, Day
You better win, Day
‘Cause if you can’t serve a young soldier
How you gon’ march with the veterans, Day?
But this your debut
So you be gassed just rapping eight off
They say from Tink to you, is regular season to the playoffs
So they asked if I’d be clocked in, I said lay off
I’m bout to show y’all how to get a paid vacay to take a Day off
You just lost your first round on URL
Time
[Verse 2: Daylyt]
(You want some water?)
(Alright, now let’s rap)
(We bout to rap now, yo quiet down I need y’all to listen)
I said
I write for my disciple growth
You tellin’ me Mike was Thoth?
Ya really think this bird GOD?
Well I dropped more tiers than the word cry
How you expect to see me in three
When you don’t rap with ya third eye?
For this verse I wrote four thirty-twos
Screamin’ free Quincy, we alive
Right, I came through with heavy sound
See greatness whenever God move
So every setup it’s the Metatron’s Cube
This is when I try angles with every round
See the pen crack through syntax
Similes, enemies finna be omelettes
When I choose them for lunch
You think the raps random, damn them
The energy I’m wit’ is Infinity Gauntlet
Nigga, it’s jewels in the punch
(I do this)
See we birthed the fist for earth, it’s just the purpose missed
Nibiru clocked us
We sat back and watched, but was it worth the risk?
See the kids is blood type
We done let this negative RH through the Stargate
But that was the first offense
For Osiris sight, but why would iris light
High aperture close, so the bow can focus
But don’t overexpose regrets
Why I’m on the cam’ snappin’?
This happen to be a tough picture
But, these niggas still don’t pose a threat
(I’m a rapper)
Another snake, man
Worried bout’ his rep til’ he in the tale rattlin’
I dime and back up
Another live re-viper shot
Well what’s the hold up
And a kinda nigga I am
I rap tight as hell, sir pen out of this world
Man this shit is cold bra
So what?
Ya’ll feel he GOAT, how?
He got a savant gift to ascend his profile?
You feel you a star kid?
There’s a box, indigo child
That got P split
Annunaki gift, nigga I rap too wild
Can you copy this? Think a floppy disk
I knock out a square memory if he act too foul
Save the bullshit
But you can have a million arms
I still chop through your center, P
(Let me rap bruh)
For those who try to test or act crazy, get boxed to infinity
The squares keep on comin’
But we square up with the squares for the square dance
It’s you who they got to pray for now
First option was to bomb on one square
But now I feel like I can laymore down
(I do this)
As the block explode
The top pick for the topic rose, the cockpit chose
I demand flight
It ain’t the same flight as when you washin’ clothes, outside
Did you catch it?
Y’all admittin’ it’s the clothesline that hit you
Y’all say he toppin’ me, what you got for me a shopping spree?
Y’all just biased, clothes-minded people
(Oh yeah I do this)
But, but
We gon whip in the casket like a drive hearse
Til’ they eyes burst
See explosions got the war locked, man which is the God curse
He fucked if he high alert, I go at em fam
We cave men, who creating the fire first
From the guys who let the five burst
To my complete conscious niggas that wonder what the sky worth
Never divide Earth
I got something for both parties, this the die-verse
I spazz for free, the disaster key
Clashed past the last emcee
Trash, church it was past the streets
They thought he was bout it bout it
But you done ran into the Master P
Nah nah, nah nah, nah nah
I play my part too, they here to see Quill
Last battle the nigga only had two lines, y’all feel we equal?
I’m 33 degrees higher nigga, amazin’
Y’all ain’t listen to it? Well here’s a better equation
Think the Snapchat filter, nigga I dog whoever I’m facin’
The grid busted, when I’m Einsteinin’ I wig [?]
Shorty down, I Charlie Brown
I write with the pig pen, leavin’ these kids dusted
How you gon’ step to the ruler?
I measure men who mesmerize
I show you the world piece, whoever I met a die
That was the elbow, I go hard in the paint
This shit should be televised
(I do this bruh, this shit different bruh, shit different)
(It’s very different, Mike P: “It’s two different ways of rapping”)
You too blasé, you wouldn’t tie with a dollar sign
I school niggas to death, it’s Columbine
(I do this bruh, I do this bruh)
When they rate me they give me the under score
That’s cause they don’t get the bottom line
For the ladders I try to climb
But I don’t believe in they bull
I’m just seein’ bellies
A bunch of damn yes men who play man best friend
They was being petty
About my wave being fucked up
But those the type of niggas that brush me wrong
I remain a sober gent, no deodorant, I must be strong
I said, I said, I said
See the shell clappin’, Daylyt on the stage he Pharrell rappin’
I black on a white face, I’m Reepah Rell snappin’
(I do this!)
You really thought you had action wit Day? He tried it
They find him in a gutter, nigga be honest!
(I’m nice, nigga!)
Second round they might have to wrap this shit up
If they don’t got my five hundred, I’ma clap this shit up
(I’m a rapper, I’m a rapper, I’m a rapper)
[Verse 2: Mike P]
They say you write crazy, Day
Day’s crazy, crazy…Day!
This battle fire facts bruh, but this match up, seems so unlikely
You had Summer Madness 3, set up with Sevah so nicely
Then that, Math diddley took you to New Jack City to go and Ice T
And now you get five hundred dollars
And a “if Young Metro” card, to battle Mike P
But it’s Daylyt, in God form, versus the cardboard cutout
The lamb that’s supposed to stand and watch the star pitch a shutout
They say bug out
That means punch Mike, slump Lyt, just walk through him
I mean, a Day verse hurts
Just throw hays first, and then talk to him
Nah, Davonne, I gotta speak to the inner Lux in you
Open the vault of your core, man
And all the core fans that put they trust in you
I fuck wit you, but I ask a friend
Has there ever been a GOAT with so many fans spinnin’ but such a lack in wins?
I said
Aye see ya, breeze by the notions, it ain’t true
He say URL fans are stupid, Day cruel
A king to pawns, I guess, and a heir conditioned to make rules
Now you gon’ stand here, propel, and expect them to stay cool?
I mean, them lines on yo’ mug, got you disguised as a bug
And trust, I been crushin’ beetles since “Hey Jude”!
You let people beat you
My bad, let me repeat that again
You let people beat you!
How you the greatest, but such a profound victim?
Trying to be Dot against B. Dot
And got 30’d, with a clown’s wisdom
You’ve been food getting served
But that’s what catering to the crowd gets him
But you here for Lux, right? You a bum, Lyt
I mean how you gon’ battle Beloved
When you lost to his carbon copy with Down Syndrome? Huh!?
I mean, you ain’t never gon’ beat that man that could defeat a Cal
I done tripled your last battle in views, I know you seen it, pal!
Versetracker if you need to browse!
“Well, I never needed URL”
Well, shit, looks like you need it now!
(Oh we gon dance baby, oh we gon dance baby)
I said, fuck the small talk, I get dawg walked
I hope the leash be wit you
Son Lyt can get a hunt knife, if ya seed be wit you
Jesus, this gon’ be ya last supper, pray the heat be wit you
Or you gon’ need God and Th3 Saga when this two piece be wit you
How you a Crip and a fruit? I start pearin’ him
I know you hear the comparisons, and start scarin’ him
Getting stage fright, Daylyt, you at war with a barbarian
I’ll leave Day, draggin’ in his blood like a Targaryen
I said you thought, this was gon be ya lucky day? Please, bro
A hot nine will take out seven
Fuck, you on E, bro?
Doctors with the JayBlac face, screamin’ “Please, no!”
Paramedics pumpin’ on ya chest sayin’, “Breathe, bro”
The team know, get ya knees broke and cheeks swole
I bet the whole house to get the dub: I’m Pete Rose
Fuck the West! Problem with that? Throw hands with me, yo
Soon as you stop watchin’, SMACK! That’s a Qleen quote!
Mean flow, twistin’ l’s with a cake, you gettin’ steamrolled
You ain’t shit but prey on the field: Tim Tebow
I stop bums, clock bums
Draw shit, pop one
Shotgun in the trench, catch what’s under Mike P coat
Bitch, you catch what I really tote
I put a fuckin’ club to the jaw of the greatest: I billy GOATs
Pop shit, I’m at ya crib silly wrote
VH1 tribute: the homie talkin’ big shit ’til he choke
Yeah, I said you the GOAT
But not the rap type that skills you in a hearse
You a goat
The “baaahh” type, that gets milked for what he’s worth!
Had a goal up in ya life but now ya mission’s gettin’ worse
Could’ve planted ya career but you was pissin’ in the dirt
Now you come here, kissin’ ass, like now we give a fuck
All for Loaded, on some hoe shit
How them bowels holdin’ up?
I’mma be like Queenzflip vs. the troll god ’cause now ya motive sucks
You can either back up against the Mike, or bow to Lorded Lux
Time
[Verse 3: Daylyt]
(Yo, yo yo yo yo)
(Let them take care of that, let them take care of that)
(Yo, we good?)
(Alright I need to see, make some noise if everybody hear)
(We here, let’s get it)
All this back and forth drive got me tired
I’m losing my inner will
They say the remedy is to be outspoken
When you make a round
Well at this moment your momentum will stop
This the round where I break him down
Y’all ever wonder why nobody know what Chico really look like?
The truth is, real street niggas can’t be on cam’ like that when they look to increase
I find it completely ironic how Chico don’t want to deal with the cops, but yet he booked the Pulice
Mike Pulice
Bro are you seeing the mission?
And he say, “It’s not P-o-l-i-c-e, it’s P-u-l-i-c-e”
Oh, you think it’s a difference?
This should not be rap
Just for your name being police that should’ve got P slapped
Well you ain’t gotta be a police for real
But you act like one and I don’t fuck with copycats
These twelves will make sure you die slow
I’m tellin’ you this one time, I’m goin’ for the five-o
Don’t cop out now nigga what ya life like?
While you was at the police department
Big houses from the police department
I was in the hood, po’ leasin’ apartments
Wit the police in the apartment
Nigga I had to tackle every goal
I was playin’ rugby for my mother supper
Think Big Fendi on the stage
Nigga my background uglier than a motherfucker
Up nights I was firin’ clowns, blazin’ wit the heat
I told my mom
How you expect me to cut it out when you raise us in the streets?
Every nigga I looked up to went to the pen, that’s how I was led
Pops told me to stay wit the toast, that’s how I was bred
But, but, but, but, but
You did a Street Fighter scheme right?
It was the coolest, niggas was clappin’
You was down forward with the punches
It was dope to see how-dude-can get a reaction
Everything that went by son left em in shock
They was blind cause that’s what happen when the replay melt
Don DeMarco secure a crowd reaction
But that’s what happen when you got the DJ help
See you don’t write like the coolest
You prick, You write like Anubis
Lyt type the coolest
Look how much I spent on kicks, “Phike-Phike-Yuken”
(Oh keep it going?)
Thought I was doomed
I go for the clean sweep, like I got a broom
I was holdin’ back but now I’m all forward, aye, Sonic Boom
(Keep it going? Keep it going? Keep it going? Keep it going?)
Think E. Honda
I was in the side skirt crouched with the bun attached
Aye, you tap me too many times, you’ll get hundred slaps
Mama slapped, sister slapped, brother slapped, cousin slapped
Faggots play Sagat, he gon need another patch!
They knew I would fuck him up
Tiger uppercut, Ryu sucker punch, Guile duck or what
All munchkins
Think Balrog, I’m the only nigga in the game, with all punches!
Just another white nigga gettin’ blacked on
A Street Fighter scheme when the caps drawn
I shoot with no emotion nigga, I cap calm
(Keep it going? Keep it going? Keep it going? Let’s go)
The last one
And yet it was a Street Fighter scheme
They all sayin’ “Jesus, his brother gone”
I just fucked Ryu up, yo Twizz
At the bottom of the screen put “Please insert another coin”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten
Ooooh, oooooooh-oooooh
[Round 3: Mike P]
I feel like the Rodney Dangerfield of the URL
I still ain’t get my respect yet
Battled Ave, Tink and this crazy fuck, and they wonder why I ain’t dead yet
Like I ain’t a problem, THE problem, a said threat
I guess I need a harder drive…way harder drive…
Like the same impact on the whip that put your bitch on bedrest!
If I was the driver, I’d have finished the job, there’d be a life lost
Give your dead queen a 5-footer ’til I was Phife Dawg
Davonne, you’re stadium food
Catch what I write, boss?
You relish in moments ’til we catch up that you’re overpriced, dawg
Lyt’ll be on the stick, a Han Solo mission
Another street dude boxed and get a hobo lifted
The Sig mixed with a herb: that’s dolo-spliffin’
Quill push me, I steal pussy like a robo-kitten
You’ll get tossed, something without the pin: I don’t swipe debit
They say I got Lyt? F it, it’s light effort
Despite Lyt effort, you couldn’t check Mike, mic-checking
A 1-2, 1-2 will leave your skull aired like you light-headed
You see the scope, Lyt? The scope light where Lyt head is
You don’t like Mike? The white light where Lyt headed
Get your life cut short, I’m makin’ a slight edit
Cause the fo’-fo’ surprisingly low like my credit!
What your life like? Praying with your girl, watching Zeitgeist
Blues flaggin’ around the white colors in your home
I am Flight Mike, Tyson in his teens on his fight night
Hooks landing, they gon’ tell this fucking ass roam
If this kid come back, he’ll get his ass jumped
If Daylyt come and he ain’t bringin’ no chrome
He’ll get 6 foot, 7 foot, 8 foot, punch
How Daylyt come and now he wanna go home!?
But this your debut, and my bad debut
Ayo, Smack, we filming two movies!
The cast is here, but it’s still not clear why’d you choose me
As the stone cold look, knowing giving Austin powers could prove groovy
Ain’t even like you, kid call me a clone I too Gucci
But you got the draw I’ll give you that
Guess I ain’t get it yet
You can mumble on RBE, get away with Murda like you was getting wrecked
Ain’t nothing Organik about you Chico, you just get a check
And face it, whenever it’s Grind Time you’re indirect (Drect)
And a schizo
What he say now might not be what he say later
Try talking to him…he’ll be feelin’ like a zombie 28 Days Later!
But we should know Day
We miss that really slain Philly Swain
We reminiscing on the good old Days
But how you gonna send my ass where Rich Dolarz at?
When you ain’t sent nobody since that Rich Dolarz cat!
Every damn event, just flashing pen, and not involved in scrap
Feel like a class presentation, with the title called “I Can Rap”
But I stop shooters and block losers, I am the new one
Stop rumors, Akuma, ain’t fatherin’ Ryu son
The great scale to touch a mil’ with a hadouken
The red rag around the head and the wrist spit on your blue one
Now I see you sight shifting, watch how I move iris
Two tyrants who make every decision by they selves, and refuse guidance
You could have had a Big T, Storm, Shine, Tsunami…shit, even Rain But you moved climates
Labelled yourself an infant, said you’d be another new [?]
You took the rookie route
Ran to coach the first class, and they made your crew quiet
They gassed you up, then passed you Lux
Thinking you dumb and you’d buy it
But you took me instead, they said I’ll be dead
And yeah, I’m walking towards the Lyt, but you dying!
It only matter to how you rap it and you know that, especially… Time, man