Mike P vs. Young Kannon

[Round 1: Mike P]
Aight, y’all ready?

Kannon, we’re here!
It’s like all the world’s energy was just plannin’ on this match
Sike - you dick-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
Bitch, 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 bitches: 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 pussy!
This don’t need to be street! It sleep fuckers
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 bitch: 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 fuck 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 - bitch, you Mega Cave Gang
Fuck you mean? Time

[Round 1: Young Kannon]
Said yo...you know I’m ‘bout to beat yo’ cracker ass, right?

Y’all ever seen two niggas goin’ back-and-forth in the hood like a brawl was in sight?
But you knew one of them niggas 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 “pussy” 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’ BITCH!
Always complainin’ online, and we tired of it
I’ll (*swoo-swoo*) line your shit
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 shit!
Jumped in the car, did a blog talkin’ ‘bout how my gut is big
But yo’ mama love them fat niggas
I Captain Morgan’d the ho and hit her wit’ that chubby dick
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 shit, 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 nigga
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, bitch
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 nigga 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 fuck wit’ him
Low-end, all we know is drill and gun missions
You tried to slit your wrists...I woulda slit your throat
Bitch, 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 niggas 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 BITCH!
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 nigga 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!

[Round 2: Mike P]
Ah...
They say you punch crazy-
Real talk...I find it funny to think you’re no one to fuck wit’
Like I’m the corny one that would just shock the world if I roll up and touch shit
‘Cause at Blueprint 2? Ooh...this ho did some fuck shit
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 pussy 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 shit 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 shit right?
He let his man get slumped, then Kannon chumped and ain't show Shine what the shit's like
Yet you usin' Pulice/police flips
The shit's out! It don't hit right!
Talkin' 5-0 - you lost three rounds, a coin toss, and bitched 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! Fuck 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 fuckin' 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 bitch, but I am past that life
This year, it's vers' a bitch - 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" fuckin' sad bar
And then a punchline that basically sounds like the last bar!
Keep it real...though you so pussy, 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 fuck I care?
Stop actin' like you don't why the fuck 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 fucking career
Spit your dumbass punches, boy
Fuck outta here

[Round 2: Young Kannon]
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' niggas "clones"...like you ain't a carbon offspring of Gjonaj and Dizaster
But I'm crazy, crazy
Yeah, I am crazy
Bitch, who want that?
Fuck 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'
Fuck 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 niggas 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 bitch just to get him dumb hype
FUCK 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, bitch
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 nigga that'll flip your cap up like Sidney Dean!
I keep bustin', keep chuggin'
That's The Little Engine That Could, nigga
You a puppet!
You'd do anything to be down with the hood niggas!
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, nigga!
Heat to your wig
Bang at his bang, leakin' your shit
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!

[Round 3: Mike P]
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 shit 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 fuck that
You tough, scrap? Your set bang hammers?
Crazy clip for that baby shit, 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 shit 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 SHIT!
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 bitchin' 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 shit
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 piss-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 fucking word that I said
Now go ahead

[Round 3: Young Kannon]
Ayo, Smack...

[Smack White]
What up?

[Young Kannon]
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, shit 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 pussy like him interrupt and say, "Tuh! That's nothing! Try living with my father!"
SHUT! The! Fuck! Up!
You tried that bullshit story vers' Suge
Well, bitch, 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 nigga told me:
You try to impress them by rappin' 'bout gunplay
But you just don't fit wit' the flow of shit, bitch
You fuckin' 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 pussy!
Where I come from, niggas 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
Fuck that bullshit that you spittin'!
You ate a whole onion on camera
Well, I sold whole onions off camera
Ho, we move different

[Mike P]
So did I
So did I
So did I...

[Young Kannon]
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 niggas, you OK, but still one of the lamest spitters
You hate on me and Brizz, but dick-ride Roc and Ave
You got a coke and a Cave addiction
I was waitin', nigga! 'Cause I got a problem wit' him
Now I can spot a victim
Typical horror movie: the white bitch 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, bitch
Get off a nigga dick
I reach full potential when I peel (pill): this shit Limitless
You made your name off Facebook groups
Turned around and dissed 'em
Ungrateful contradictin' shit
You Jaz The Rapper: ever since this pussy popped, you been a different bitch
Nonfiction shit
Fuck 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"

[Mike P]
Facts

[Young Kannon]
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 shit 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 pussy to bring them same guns to the hood 'cause we got 'em too!
I'm sayin', lil' nigga, 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!