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Mike P vs. Young Kannon
by
URLtv
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Lyrics
Aight, y’all ready? Kannon, we’re here! It’s like all the world’s energy was just plannin’ on this match Sike - you d**k-rode on Twitter ‘til the fans demanded that we scrap So I gave in...you’re welcome Oh, don’t just hand it all to Smack b*t*h, I’m a Blastoise - just look at the card You can see I put Kannon (cannon) on my back! Punch or not, I’ll speed-box him So watch your mouth - teeth-poppers Get laced up in the building off SMACK We knew sneak-shockers I’ve beaten Stranger Things: Mike dustin’ (Dustin) these weak monsters In the field, hidin’ the 11 (Elеven) like Chief Hoppеr Bet! I brought a bat to these b*t*hes: I’m playin’ Ty Cobb Bet! They brought Pulice (police) to this mission: I’m playin’ Die Hard Bet! Ya Mob(b) Deep? Well, this mission, I’m playin’ Saigon Bet! Your pineal gland gets cracked from a third eye gone! Die, slob! Italian mafia, get ya ride bombed Guy’s skull, spike on his head: look like a Rhydon Back out, eyes black out, come in some Izods Surrounded by the block, sniper mounted for the shot… Bet...I shot Kannon (Canon) on a tripod! You fight hard, so lift the hands, we get the fade in Right hook blur vision: I left Kannon (Canon) pixelated! You pu**y! This don’t need to be street! It sleep f**kers Act big, homes, it pops up at him (Adam): Mr. Deeds butler Weak sucka! My mind so different All that talkin’ added fuel to the fire of the pyro-gifted! I’ll leave Brizz Jimz, he’s a gyro twisted! A flight off top, then a right (write) on Roc(k) like hieroglyphics! You wit’ the big- I don’t see you as a speed bump, you lame twerp You’re just a guinea pig to show your peeps how the game works So lay down, stay down Don’t speak up or flames burst White boy pointin’ two: “Dude, keep up the great work!” This is Mike P vers’ a peon chump I mean, you’re gassed, past Loaded - well, now you beyond Lux I’m killin’ this cartoon b*t*h: it’s Aeon Flux I hit fire, your whip flyin’ like Elon Musk You’re with the biggest crew in battle rap, feelin’ stacked on the shelf I’m on the biggest cards in battle rap, puttin’ stacks on the shelf So I can see, in those tweets, that you were askin’ for help How you Kannon (Canon), but can’t find the right angles to capture yourself? I’m just askin’, for a friend ‘Cause you know, I’m cool wit’ your crew And I knew they knew you, so I figured I’d just ask them again Is it the writtens, y’all? I listen more Cave Gang, what’d you put this kid in for? Y’all all new weapons, yet draggin’ Kannon (cannon) like the Civil War? I’ll listen more Dawg, if they liked you, you’d be in spots to remain comfortable But your fans a bunch of sex robots: they fake f**k wit’ you! But you a real female, and ain’t a damn thing change I stoop low, but sometimes you gotta let the chain hang I said a few racks, at least, for me to dead a lame name Yo’ whole career in the shadows - b*t*h, you Mega Cave Gang f**k you mean? Time Said yo...you know I’m ‘bout to beat yo’ cracker ass, right? Y’all ever seen two n***as goin’ back-and-forth in the hood like a brawl was in sight? But you knew one of them n***as ain’t want no smoke They were scared of the consequences, they ain’t really wanna fight But if they backed down, the whole hood would call them “pu**y” for the rest of they life And that’s exactly how this battle got set up tonight Go ‘head, clown - flex In the Florida Keys somewhere you’ll be found next I just came to test Mike (mic) and get me a sound check You been talkin’, boul Now it’s time I show you the Art of War Get punched in your mouth Turn your two front teeth to a doggy door I’m Bad, Dangerous, and Off The Wall like when Mike pop But if Mike pop, then get Mike popped! James Jordan, headshot, side of the road - do him like MIKE POP! I’m semi-totin’ Dolo mission, I don’t need many soldiers I’m all through Long Island Copiague, Hempstead, Bellmore, to Mineola What’s happenin’? Multisyllable-Grind Time-rhymin’ b*t*h! Always complainin’ online, and we tired of it I’ll (*swoo-swoo*) line your sh*t Askin’ me, “Can I beat Michael?” Course (Kors), watch They paid the bag to show you what time it is I promote the action Run up wit’ the carbon, let fo’ detach him Tom Sheppard: the 15 good in the shootout, even though I’m slackin’ You ain’t learn from that Ave ass-whoopin’!? Now you callin’ out Brizz...the boy wildin’ You already died from the Cave: that’s Floyd Collins You on some sucka sh*t! Jumped in the car, did a blog talkin’ ‘bout how my gut is big But yo’ mama love them fat n***as I Captain Morgan’d the ho and hit her wit’ that chubby d**k Double-barrel, you could have a faceoff with Snuffleupagus I make it hard for white trash to eat like the government! The laser gripped, raise the sh*t, blaze the clip, get him eight for this My foundation been sick, kid! You better Make a Wish If I don’t believe in God, dead from the .40, after the eighth he is (atheist) I’m The Fugitive: watch me kill Pulice (police) and get away wit’ it! Burners is clappin’ I’m in the hood with them murderers trappin’ I done gave Blacks and Whites the same work: that’s affirmative action You want a 8-ball? Well, I’m that n***a You want a grave, dawg? Well, my set willin’ Five TECs peelin’ Left P (pee) in the hallway: it’s a project building What you got!? (*Mike P impression*) “He lacks starpower and spit a bunch of general bars!” Well, I killed yo’ boss Born, b*t*h I even gave your General...bars! Wit’ two bangers steppin’, and I’mma find you a new way to Heaven Newspaper, Michael on the cover like 2K11 Rappin’ that nonsense only gon’ get you a gat to your conscience Or a (*swoo*) buck-fifty up front like your battle deposit! He say I got old bars? Naw! That’s just grind, grit, and old scars You watched me pull the plug on Jakk’ (jack): I think my phone charged Now it’s yo’ turn! I got the right to murk you and your tired circle Backhand - let’s see you bite the smack (SMACK) like a Sprite commercial! Your voice annoys every real n***a in this room Don’t even talk, fam’ Yeah, you beat a Tapedeck, but see these (CDs) round wherever you walk, man (Walkman) You can’t f**k wit’ him Low-end, all we know is drill and gun missions You tried to slit your wrists...I woulda slit your throat b*t*h, we cut different You ain’t tough, wigga! You get on SMACK and play and pretend Hashtag his death on the ‘Net, we could make it a trend Ya body drop! The n***as who did it, they in the wind Revolver, clean (Qleen) spinnin’ like “WOOOOOOOO! Say it again!” You YTG!? You rep that? Well, I’m here to check that You just a cracker that used to try to work out in a meth lab You a b*t*h! Bedaffi Green voice: “Yeah, I SAID THAT!” Don’t talk how your TEC clap And don’t speak on my man gettin’ swung on ‘til you find that no-name n***a that punched you and go and get your respect back! Put that ‘Flava in Ya Ear’ like Rest in Peace to Craig Mack! Your set lamers! And losin’ 85 percent of your battles has been your rep, player Crushed glass in your food: you got killed by what the Chef gave ya South Side! Ah... They say you punch crazy- Real talk...I find it funny to think you’re no one to f**k wit’ Like I’m the corny one that would just shock the world if I roll up and touch sh*t ‘Cause at Blueprint 2? Ooh...this ho did some f**k sh*t Crazy how the hands froze on someone so known for their punches Go-Rilla Warfare Learn somethin’ as you go forward in your time If you gon’ act gangsta, be gangsta and don’t just flow it in your rhymes Because your man came to support you, and you showed a lack of pride And let Shine slip through like you was opening the blinds We need answers, guy...give ‘em pronto! Was ya shy in Chicago? Shy in the Chi And you from the Chi? Well, I know Sweet angle I call it "Battle rapper that fails to promote himself Most likely caused by being a pu**y that's scared to show himself" I mean, y'all can help him 'Cause let's be clear - do we know him? Rhetorical - no, you don't! So nothin' he speaks potent He hides behind the Chicago gangster sh*t when he flowin' 'Cause his homeboy got dropped and the most you did was try to 3-0 him! So please! Tell me - am I gettin' this sh*t right? He let his man get slumped, then Kannon chumped and ain't show Shine what the sh*t's like Yet you usin' Pulice/police flips The sh*t's out! It don't hit right! Talkin' 5-0 - you lost three rounds, a coin toss, and b*t*hed out of a fistfight! No honor, though! So wit' the tanks I ride! We follow homes, surround the ho, load the mag', got five It's pops in front of the kid crib like, "I gotta go...my dad's outside!" I'm not playin', Kannon! f**k who favored him to win Might be the underdog now - let's see who favored in the end I'll reverse life, but your cocoon I'm bladin' it again Straight through, and bring the butterfly back like I'm sayin' it again! Get the picture? You're not him, you don't hold no truth Get the picture? Your stock thin wit' no solo moves Get the picture? You're boxed in like a photo booth I click the cannon (Canon) on Kannon: let's do a photoshoot! You hold those, doof One nice right, you a f**kin' mannequin Pale boy, but I can see wit' the hands: it's Pan's Labyrinth I'll manhandle him, or I'm quick wit' the can' blammin' him Be dots (B. Dot) on your conscious, brother These bullets is Pan-African! Last year was a b*t*h, but I am past that life This year, it's vers' a b*t*h - I gotta trash that life We ambush YK, guerilla warfare, like yo' ass that night 'Cause after the ambush, "Why, K?" was the only thing you asked that night! And let's be honest You overrated, bunch of subpar stuff from Kannon Y'all hear a lot of punchin', I hear a lot of button-mashin' (*heh-heh-heh-heh-heh*) Breathin' mad hard Wild hand gestures, dance-steppin' like a damn shark A "Mike Flu Game but the .45" f**kin' sad bar And then a punchline that basically sounds like the last bar! Keep it real...though you so pu**y, I don't expect you to You gon' punch your heart...all the way to Ascension 2 It's a dark life, 'cause you couldn't get out that cave if you left the group And you wouldn't even be here if Smack ain't call me and I ain't mention you You just like the other trolls The f**k I care? Stop actin' like you don't why the f**k I'm here! But it's wild fitting that you're blind to moves I've touched since I'm here 'Cause it's a reflection of you unable to move your f**king career Spit your dumbass punches, boy f**k outta here Video game lines, Dragon Ball Z schemes, and current event bars And I'm 'posed to lose to this weak MC? To get a Mike P verse, all you gotta do is play Street Fighter for a hour, watch reruns of anime and three episodes of TMZ You'd swear to anybody who'd listen that you gon' ride when it's static And yo' rhyming is acid Callin' n***as "clones"...like you ain't a carbon offspring of Gjonaj and Dizaster But I'm crazy, crazy Yeah, I am crazy b*t*h, who want that? f**k a tough act, and your nerd fans, I really slump cats Rock your wig, your dome swole His man bun lookin' hunchback I'm hardcore in the ring like Mick Foley wit' the thumbtacks We dump straps Chicago brought hammers to the fight You do minstrel shows for the people, be panderin' for the hype You traded your dignity for a name Well, the scope on your family 'bout to strike Two 'Ks for gettin' Wavy: it's the Champion of the Night! You dirty, dusty, and SOFT! No Ruger weapons, no shooters reppin', totin' Rugers reckless You do Hadoukens! Well, get rounds to your throat like Akuma necklace Dig that! I murdered Maine, now I'm pistol-whippin' your wig flat I'm at your peanut, butt a (butter) cracker: that's a Ritz snack Stop, son! I'll (w)ring out the stick until the mop done I gave you yo' first grudge match - that was the plot, son You a hot bum! Had your chance to be a top-tier, but you not one You battled Daylyt...then turned to Daylyt We all seen't you assed out wit' a Shotgun! What work your team put in? You just a lame in holey sweaters and skinny jeans wolfin' f**k around and get the stick on Pulice (police) like Rodney King footage Beam on him On-site is on-site, we don't need warnings Five Heartbeats: slide where Mike (mic) stand and let it sing on him! What he got!? He gon' say, "You're irrelevant 'cause you're a veteran and not as famous as they are." Look, I don't use a gimmick to sell a image Out the mud is how we make ours You say I kill n***as and disappear I say, "What's the hate for?" I'm from the gutter - after the murder, you s'posed to lay under the radar Now be honest...y'all really think Michael bang out wit' 'Ks? After he spit a gun bar, he gotta wipe the bang out his face You think you solidified? Stop it, hater They brought Bigg K back for a reason: yo’ spot in danger NBA Live 98: two .9’s replace Mike on the roster, player! You scared to come to my city All my citizens violent! The biggest rats gettin’ swung on: we at Chilligan’s Island! Too much noise in the small room? Watch the trigger get silent You’ll see a wetback (wet back) spazzin’ like a Gremlin wildin’! Yeah, I trolled and baited this b*t*h just to get him dumb hype f**k Dragon Ball Z! Spirit Bombs don’t work in a real gunfight I don’t come light! The snub-nose sneezin’: Gesundheit! It’s the Nas edition Either (‘Ether’) you ‘Got Urself a Gun’ or the steel ‘matic (Stillmatic) give you One, Mike (Mic)! BOW! You told Trez, "The gun Woody Harrelson: it's never gonna jam!" Wrong scene, b*t*h My cal'll shoot White Men Can't Jump, but he still got caught in the alley, Ooops (alley-oops) I'm really mean Throwin' bullets the size of kidney beans You got hustled by a n***a that'll flip your cap up like Sidney Dean! I keep bustin', keep chuggin' That's The Little Engine That Could, n***a You a puppet! You'd do anything to be down with the hood n***as! If Smack told you to play in traffic wit' a "Run Over Me" sign on your chest, you would, wigga 'Cause last time we seen Mike wit' a Magnum was under Stacy bed in The Wood, n***a! Heat to your wig Bang at his bang, leakin' your sh*t Al Capone: yak, man (Yakman), and throw shade, get smoked wit' a premium Sig (cig') I pray for the drama You? Just prey for the drama Get two arms across the chest: pray for Wakanda! Sprayin' the Llama! Two to your wig, eight to ya mama Bunch of Mexicans gettin' it shakin', like they playin' "La Bamba"! SOUTH SIDE! Aight, so, uh... So what's it's gonna take to get this guy to see the message Until God receive a message? In the sky, he reach the Heavens You a Killmonger? Well, that I'm puttin' highly into question If so, dots for every single body you've collected Mike P You won't survive for the long haul, Kannon The right hand Mega Man, come meet the strong arm, Kannon (cannon)! I'll bust his teeth out Vision in waves, I'll kick his feet out I gave him the same feeling of living in a beach house! All those wins, and your biggest accomplishment is callin' me out The white boy whom failures like you just wanna see out I'm with my fans daily, real talk or silly chatter I put work in, rap great, look great, and show my city power And I can tell sh*t like that gon' make you really sadder You have so many punches and will never hit what really matters But I'm sure your punches hittin' tonight! (*clap-clap-clap*) But what happens after tonight, bro? What happens when Avocado shuts the cam' off and the lights close? And it's you, sadness, a bag of chips, and no life goals On a battle rap treadmill you couldn't get off until I showed But f**k that You tough, scrap? Your set bang hammers? Crazy clip for that baby sh*t, you need fresh-made Pampers Shot before the flight, strap covered in red bandanna I dropped the piece at the airport and pulled a Juelz Santana But I’m still here! So if it’s a problem you wanna start, fam’ Kannon got packs? Well, we robbin’ him for his hard tan It’s bad things they wishin’ on me, and y’all damned But I’m in Florida, givin’ handouts to Young: this sh*t is God’s Plan! Your squad got an issue? Well, send me at ‘em, homes I’ll be pistol-whippin’ the Cave like Indiana Jones! Y’all ain’t peep that? Bar in a bar, catch the blatancy That means I’ll run through the Cave ‘til Roc(k) start chasin’ me! I'm Ninja on the PC if I cross wit' a loser It's Fortnite: we bust first, then the squad earn the Rugers I'm building up to the kill, find him perched wit' his cougar I fire one in the head and...make sure my third person shoot her (shooter)! Real sh*t! And y'all comparin' progression to the old flame Invention to the Stone Age Ascension to the NOME stage! Buddy, you wasn't even poppin' in the old days But swerved in my lane and realized I got road rage! You b*t*hin' ho, Twitter troll Respect, I'll give you none Your defense was "post on Mike", but you ain't expect that I would jump You ain't sh*t This whole battle was just a setup from the jump Buddy, get it through your skull I'm just tryin' to help the boy improve I'll talk to Roc and Ave - prolly interact with them more than you Champion! Lift his banner up this year! Make him happy, give the boy some shoes Uh, maybe you can pay me! I'll teach you all the don'ts and do's! Or maybe- Or maybe...kiss my ass and your p*ss-poor attitude I did what I ain't have to do: down my stock to battle you In a spot that matches you, just to smile and pass the truth That you will never be better than anyone surrounding you And honestly, I don't care if they react at the end 'Cause Pedro Mendoza, you just heard every f**king word that I said Now go ahead Ayo, Smack... What up? You ever be chillin' with, like, Cheeko, Beasley, and Norbes, like reminiscin' 'bout the old days and the times y'all had it harder? You know, like the time you held the Canon? I mean, sh*t got rough, but you built the foundation wit' ya partners The money wasn't long at first, but whatever don't kill you make you stronger Then a privileged pu**y like him interrupt and say, "Tuh! That's nothing! Try living with my father!" SHUT! The! f**k! Up! You tried that bullsh*t story vers' Suge Well, b*t*h, we don't identify You gettin' killed by a old-school outcast (OutKast): that's Aquemini I mean, you funny, a lil' creative But you a lame, so we don't get that feel when you spit lines You just a weirdo runnin' 'round New York: you Tekashi 6ix9ine I'mma tell you like a n***a told me: You try to impress them by rappin' 'bout gunplay But you just don't fit wit' the flow of sh*t, b*t*h You f**kin' up the feng shui You mean to tell me he tried to commit suicide 'cause he wasn't gettin' enough love from his dad, son? Man, you pu**y! Where I come from, n***as was lucky if they had one! 'Cause Papa was a rolling stone, left Mama wit' all the bills I'm burnin' tops on the plastic bags tryna get the order filled Mama yelled at me at 13 She said, "Boy, I don't wanna see you in them streets. I don't wanna see you hustle!" I said, "Mama, you work 55 hours a week and we barely makin' it. I'm tired of seein' you struggle!" That extra money kept the lights on and food in the fridge f**k that bullsh*t that you spittin'! You ate a whole onion on camera Well, I sold whole onions off camera Ho, we move different So did I So did I So did I... The savage attack! Lettin' it kick in the field: the Gramática strap! Silencer on (*choo-choo-choo-choo-choo*) Yeah, them Africans back You got the wackest gimmick The hood you wanna be from, we all bled and trapped up in it We in a Everyday Struggle, so gettin' caught wit' a strap is academic (Akademiks)! What you 'bout doe, trout-mouth ho!? I'll scar your face wit' a scalpel! The .9 get raised right: that's Mike P in his household! I'll split your jaw! You don't let triggers off, you wanna Twitter war Get the steel (steal) fif' on cam': that's T-Top in the liquor store Out the new wave of n***as, you OK, but still one of the lamest spitters You hate on me and Brizz, but d**k-ride Roc and Ave You got a coke and a Cave addiction I was waitin', n***a! 'Cause I got a problem wit' him Now I can spot a victim Typical horror movie: the white b*t*h tried to run, got caught slippin', then a monster get him He like, "You're a one-trick pony! All you do is gun bars!" That's what SMACK was made on, b*t*h Get off a n***a d**k I reach full potential when I peel (pill): this sh*t Limitless You made your name off Facebook groups Turned around and dissed 'em Ungrateful contradictin' sh*t You Jaz The Rapper: ever since this pu**y popped, you been a different b*t*h Nonfiction sh*t f**k all the hype wit' you! They gon' be cryin' 'bout how my knife did you! You the cardigan sweater type That Big T look ain't fit right wit' you I teach child lessons Walk into Costco wit' the cal' steppin' Caught him moppin' the floor - BOW! - cleanup on Aisle 7! I'm the Predator I started provokin' him, now I'm exposin' him You be callin' up your YTG homies and they be coachin' him Ike on the staff and he YTG Oh, I see why they be promotin' him Long muzzle, barkin' all-black: come meet the Doberman Talk through The Wire, I pop Pulice (police) Watch how I doze him in (Dozerman) Get him cleaned, then drug out like he relapsed on the coke again Ice pick to your stomach, life startin' to move slow for him For a band, I'll cut a rib in: that's a grand openin' He like, "Yo! YK's a troll!" Naw...I just got on your nerves doin' petty things Catch him while he sleep, a bullet knock out every dream You claim you the new "Captain Marketable" Facts TUH! You don't put scary screams in every scene! This code word "Young Jeezy" That mean slice him 'til his meat show: that's "White on White Everything" The "S" in "SMACK" stands for "Streets" That mean that this sh*t is not for you R.I.P. YTG - I'm 'bout to drop your crew White boys like you and A. Ward take your hammers to the classroom and pop the school... But y'all too pu**y to bring them same guns to the hood 'cause we got 'em too! I'm sayin', lil' n***a, I don’t play like this! I grind 24/7, every day like this! And I know you figured he wouldn’t get slayed like this But your mama shoulda told you it’d be days like this South Side!
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