
Myers got his dumbass killed
Danny Myers
For those that said they couldn't hear me well on the phone here is the transcript of my round vs Tom Gist.
Tom Gist
Let me guess..you did a couple bids on Rikers for buckin and wylin/
nikka Castaway was the last time Tom was stuck on the Island!/
Why yall industry nikkaz keep tryna wait wait, you not even a industry nikka, ion got time for it/
Camron and jay ridin around in Luxury shyt, I guess they gave Tom Ford!/
I'm the greatest battler ever nikka, I ain't here to fail/
I won't make this debatable, it's gone be clear as hell/
You ain't shootin shyt/
Last time Tommy Gun was in the street Rocky Balboa said he ain't hear a bell!/
You nikkaz with no battle experience kill me, this ain't war about/
You can't just go to the Rec Center and pick Jordan out!/
What the fukk happened to you? You was runnin with the Dipset, you used to crack spit/
Now you got the Number 1 album...on Datpiff!/
And that's it!, we all high and mighty til our pride claims us/
Everyday's a walk on the beach...til the tide changes!/
See I used to do music too, sellin mixtapes, on the corner slangin/
Do a couple local shows, hope my performance bangin/
But then it became all about the hooks, trap music, young Jeezy made it/
Battle raps the only place lyricisms appreciated!/
It became harder for lyricist to sell, especially in this digital age/
So Danny said fukk music and went back to his criminal ways!/
But battle rap provided me a pivotal stage/
I ate ($8.15) fifteen a hour like minimum wage! BarGod!/
But here you are Gist, you gotta face the flow and it's rough/
You had yo shot...with the cam like Snow on the bluff!/
No one to trust, I still run the streets to feed a starvin fam/
One hand on the rock, while the other on the glass like Darvin Ham!/
Pardon fam, but I was runnin with the 9 pointers/
Til a OG sat me down and gave me some bomb pointers/
I'll catch him with his wife/
Kill her while she's listening to the Morning show, and then make Tom join her (Joyner)!/
This is Writers Bloque!, I'll spot you on J.R. Writers block/
And go straight for the pat down, tell Organik I need a title shot!/
Rifle cocked, on camera fill ya mouth full of lead/
Then re-load off screen like playin' "House Of The Dead!"/
Charlie Clips, T Rex, Tom Gist, I kill Harlem/
Anyway...McGruff and Big L were the real Harlem!/
nikka, We got a real problem, ima let the sig hit cha/
Ya new songs'll come out after you die, you see the Big Picture?!/
I'll wait til you got yo kids with ya, it's 1 slug left in the thing solo/
Ya sons lucky...but ya daughter'll be winged dolo!/
nikka you need promo, ion care if you thug or not I'm airin'/
You better have on the same helmet Juggernaut wearin'! BarGod!/
Respect me, I spit the facts with the scrutiny/
This 40 cal... wasn't featured on diplomatic immunity!/
I'm giving back to the community nikka, this the pay out/
You shaky with the can like a tagger gettin the last bit of spray out!/
I'll bring the K out, and you'll be on the ground with this shyt/
Thank the Lord he don't got another round of this shyt! Yikes!/