Danny Myers vs. Charron

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
I could start this by sayin’, if you and I were pulled over…
They’d ask for yo’ ID; wit’ me, they’d pull the Glock out
But by this point in yo’ career, the race angle’s a cop-out
Get knocked out
Ya head’ll split wit’ lightspeed
I’ll beat yo’ ass here and in a digital world
You ain’t met a (Meta) nigga like me
The elements might seem in your favor
It seems like a benefit
I don’t give a fuck if he’s white
I’m tryna rewrite Leviticus
Quite the lyricist
Heightened senses hit
Cobra strike
Each bite is venomous
Take a knife and dip it in nitroglycerin
Slice his ligaments
Dice his liver then
Snipe wit’ remittance
The sight was rivetin’
Psycho menaces
Nights of recycled Ritalin
Make his wife a widow then stab him wit’ spiked adrenaline
Then use the blood to write the riddle wit’
I had white distributin’
(Ayy, nigga!)
While writin’ bars, I was coppin’ product like Lobos
I set sales in between the parallel lines like the Nautica logo
My mind is a dojo
To show you I’m the one, involve a clock
I think you twelve? .45
The moment I shoot fifteen men, it’s past the time you shoulda called the cops
Dawg should stop
You will not out-write, rebuttal, or metaphor me
This a whole different territory you should be aware of, Corey
I’ll air a .40
He actin’ angry, I’ll grip the instrument
Knock off a fraction of his skull and get his temper sent (ten percent)
I am infinite
Here am I
Clear ya squad
Get stomped out in high top Nikes to instill the fear of God
Peer inside
(Ayy!)
I’m outta this world; I am a alien
You can’t compare a Canadian to a Palladian
This what you choose as a wise move?
You wanna prove you can rhyme? Cool, but who would advise dude?
Even if you lose in ya prime, knowin’ who views would despise you
I mean, who could survive through losin’ they mind to Lucifer’s IQ?
Who do this ruthless as I do?
Ain’t you cool wit’ Hitman?
Everything the same when the Tec reveal
Ya chest get peeled
All y’all gon’ hear is, “Yett!” and steel!
I’m a vet for real
Y’all just watched me shoot Roc from the fuckin’ bleachers like a buzzer beater
Now, everyone’s become believers like the blood of Jesus underneath us
What procedure?
There’s a gun in yo’ head
You don’t wanna play these games
Then another one
Now, Corey’s in the middle like JAY-Z’s name
I slay these lames
Pistol-whip
Now, this skinny bitch spittin’ out more blood than Lady Flamez
(I’m too cold, nigga!)
I’ll lay these thangs
Billy Pistolz tried to blam on me
Click! Click! The sound of his gun not workin’ is my jam, homie
Whatchu got planned for me?
Get me pissed off?
Sayin’ you got money stacks this tall?
We all know you rich, dawg
But I learned the true value of life watchin’ my wife withdrawal
Every nigga I’m with draw
I’ll paint it for you if you couldn’t understand it
Shots’ll hit you wit’ ease-el and put you on a canvas
Even though I’m abstract, I’m past that
Ks is dumpin’
Detectives standin’ around, makin’ they own interpretations of it
You have NO IDEA what’ll happen if these Ks clap you
The last white boy to go against shells and win was a Blaze Battle
(I’m too cold!)
I’m amazed at you
Think ya brain is deeper?
Look at the age between us
I became a leader bangin’ heaters when niggas was drankin’ Zimas
They can’t defeat us
The only white bitch that can beat me wit’ a round name is Xena!
The fuck I say Xena for?
I just told y’all I was a alien… niggas better bring a Xenomorph
(Bar God!)
They do this to theyself
Stupid rappers
Who could match it?
Do you believe in a parallel universe?
(I do!)
Two of the bros was fightin’; one of the homies said, “Shoot the bastard.”
Why would I care ‘bout yo’ Confederate flag?
Where I’m from, puttin’ up ya dukes a hazard
Who’s the master?
This battle ain’t go the way you figured
I ain’t use the race angle ‘cause this is the moment that made you, nigga
I made you niggas
You on the ground with this shit
This dumb-ass nigga lucky he ain’t got another round of this shit
(Yikes!)

[Round 1: Charron]
You exposed your wife’s demons
You’re the reason her dirt comes out
You get pity off her struggles
Was it worth the clout?
You let us know she’s an addict
Kids don’t have a perfect house
What’s the point of doin’ push-ups in battles when your home life ain’t workin’ out?
It’s always Vicki this and Vicki that with some wordplay
You Loso: you doin’ Vicks in (Viixen) the worst way
You told Arsonal you wished his momma died
Then you battled Rex and brought up his nephew’s fuckin’ homicide
You brought Vicki into our universe, left her traumatized
How’s her existence supposed to be parallel when you always cross the line?
For better or for worse, that remains on the table
You’re supposed to make her a promise, not make her an angle
I’ll get all of ya young’uns
I’m clearin’ that home out
Tie up everything under 13
I’m goin’ the Patrick Mahomes route
This what Charron ‘bout
While you cleanin’ pull-ups or pull up ‘cause you don’t pull out
It’s a blowout
No doubt
Ten kids, go south
Turn Danny Myers to Danny Tanner
He won’t make it back to that full house
(Ayy!)
You have ten kids; they make a lotta noise
(They do, they do! That’s a personal.)
You’ve never used a Trojan
You think you earned your spot with Troy?
Smack put you on the sidelines
You got annoyed
Bobby Boucher
Claims he got it out the mud, dawg, fucks with Vicki, and became URL’s water boy
You were null and void vers’ Real Sikh
Actin’ like Smack was stoppin’ him
You’re 42 and went out with a Jersey
You Jackie Robinson
Fuck chokin’! Getcha flows up
You the Bar God? So what?
He’s too cold! That’s why he froze up
You’re supposed to yell and ad-lib ya lame rhymes
Your universe is parallel
You couldn’t come back given straight lines?
That was when your wife got sober
Your parallel overlapped with the baseline
‘Cause you both got Sikh and quit Smack at the same time
I’ll do Myers greasy
You doin’ gun lines to beat me?
I ain’t afraid of Danny tre, yo
I give the same performance every time you see me
Last battle, you did "Can’t Touch This"
I’ll r-r-remix a rapper
My crew’ll rush him in the West; it’ll be a disaster
Swing on him faster
Stomp him the fuck out; you’re delirious after
That’s when I come in like, “Uh-oh! Uh-oh! Uh-oh! Here comes a hammer.”
(Yeah! Ayy!)
We should put up some bread
I’m a rap machine
I came from Toronto to L.A. to take Danny green
The way I practice, bro, put the pen to pad
He has to go
I’ve written to make DM disappear
We on vanish mode
You write about heterosexual whales
You should be banned from any battle rap crew
The last time I saw something inked that bad was a Midnight Madness tattoo
You write your parallel universe through the process of elimination
You just Google idioms and say the dumbest shit to make it fit a random situation
Like, “Do you believe is a parallel universe?
I do! ‘Cause I have a buddy named Trevor!”
(Ayy!)
“He had a sinus problem!
His nose was running forever!
They finally cured his allergies!
It was in the month of November!
But the next week, his body went missing in a tornado!
To this day, he’s still under the weather! Argh!”
Shut up!
(That’s actually how you rap!)
Don’t let the punchlines get to you; your stuff’s digestible
You Google popular sayings and turn it to a punchline festival
How are you in a parallel universe when your whole style’s one-dimensional?
Do you see our parallel?
Look at my past and mistakes
You bring up your wife’s struggles so they react in this place
And when you do that to get shine, it’s a slap in the face
(Gimme some space, bro. Gimme some space while I’m killing you!)
You introduced to your long-lost son like, “It’s time you got close to Dan.”
Then you posted a thirst trap of your daughter? I don’t think you supposed to, fam
You reunited wit’ her online like, “Daddy loves you. Can’t wait to hold your hand.”
And she replied, “Thank you so much… for subscribing to my OnlyFans.”
(Ayy, I said…)
What, you want her to dance between battles? Those curves are gorgeous
Maybe the URL could finally get a good twerk (Twork) performance
You want clout off your daughter’s ass
Why you postin’ pics like that?
‘Specially when she’s thicc like that?
Now her DMs filled with "SMMMMM!", "Don DeMarco", and shit like that!
I didn’t even wanna do some rebuttals
‘Cause I feel like it would not be an advantage; you’d be put out of place
But then he called himself an alien the whole round
See how I made you gimme some space?
(You wanna—! Time.)