"Ill Will vs. Danny Myers"

[Round 1: Danny Myers]
They couldn’t have picked two better n*ggas
Our skills tower
n*ggas be scared to bark on you cause they real cowards
I mean you do it all, bars, performance, jokes, you make n*ggas feel sour
The only thing that can counter Will power, is Will po- a shotgun
No chance of me possibly getting killed
Switch blade, I’ll cut an apostrophe into Ill
You skilled, but in front of me you gone die still
I said I’ll which is code for me shootin’ in the eye Will
This guy killed...two people in one day, I’m simply unfazed
I’ll let 10 Surf out this .50, that’s a better 60 on stagе
Listen b*tch we don’t play, I came for thе massacre
Gauge or the dagger to stab it inside of ya abdomen and bang at the passenger
I’m raisin this Mac at ya, to knock ya brains in the back of ya
Then secretly collect ya data like Cambridge Galatica
We both famous for rappin’ bruh, but ya life in Jeopardy, don’t second guess
Alec Trebek died and n*ggas still wanna question death
Accept ya destiny, obsessed with weaponry
I don’t know why it resonates
But sticking metal blades inside of flesh gives me ecstasy
It’s just something about pulling the insides out a pus*y that hits direct to me
A vicious legacy, I’m from the crack era, the hood was desolate in the evening
Before WWE I saw a fiend wrestling with his demons
This is a testament of achievement, no way the block should doubt me
I’m well qualified to handle Ill, I’m Dr. Fauci
Watch ya mouthpiece, or it’s free the guys mentioned
This many n*ggas ain’t been killed in a rap since GS9 did it
These n*ggas claim they hustlers, we just grind different
I’m swinging bricks through the city like Miles Morales when the PS5 glitchin’
f*ck the size difference, b*tch n*gga you wanna box with me?
You gone feel the pain going toe to toe like neuropathy
I got yo' baby mama and yo' side b*tch toppin’ me
Both of 'em, kneeled in front of me, massage a knee (misogyny)
You a op' to me, the street game mad fatal
I’m such a Prodigy, my piece bang glass tables
The pistol gold plated, ya soul raise when mine sparkin’ ya
It’s beautiful, The Thing would get praise from John Carpenter
My mind darker bruh, L.A. sets every standard
Pontiac in the shadow of Detroit like a defender chasin’ Barry Sanders
We carry hammers, to murder Mac and any n*gga claiming they heard of Yak
It’s gone look like he was trampled by a stampede of a herd of yak
Moving like a b*tch roofied his drink I think his cardiac
Arrest the way his heart react when the .40 clap
You dissed me in ya 40 match, I can’t believe you said that
Mental institution, you better be in yo’ bed strapped
I’m standing over you and yo’ b*tch c*ckin’ lead back
The murder premeditated but the K spittin’ off the head wrap
Dead that, you on the ground with this sh*t
This dumb ass n*gga got another two rounds of this sh*t
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