Styles P - Vs lyrics

[Verse 1: Mickey Factz] Failure's not a sliding board, it's a seesaw Factz, it's in my name I'mma teach y'all (Factz!) General in a beast war and Peace Corps Only time that you next to I is on a keyboard Who paid you to jump outta that window in an MC war Cause now it's lookin' like a free fall Catch me ridin' by in a peach Porsche Gettin' head while I sleep, that's a dream job [Verse 2: Styles P] I'm so live I must've died already You astounded, I'm grounded and fly already Any emcee could die, I decide already Better yet, I've decided I'm a pure blood you a hybrid Get an icepick in your eyelid For jumping on our sh** n***a Or jumping on my dick Ghost or a G host n***a, you'll get your mind flipped [Verse 3: Mickey Factz] What up sideline s**as? Try to rhyme, makin' my timeline suffer, nevermind I'm top five, remind guys of Einstein brother Never high but I'm fly as a skydive jumper Guard on point from the calve, designed like Shumpert Sci-fi blunder, used to watch Zeitgeist Wonders On my televised, wide tricolor lifesize high structure Flatscreen in my high rise bunker [Verse 4: Styles P] I'm so nice that I can't be ranked You [?] weed, but you ain't high, so it can't be dank Bout to get your head cracked so you can't be bank Give a f** about your metaphors, styles or your format Lyrically this my house, n***a you just a doormat Meaning you get stepped on n***a or get your jaw cracked I be tellin' n***as to fall back Lyrical gun, turn your 6 into a 4-pack [Verse 5: Mickey Factz] Peep the enigma, I tell riddles well On a dark night, would a m**m pay a Christian bail? Or let him sit in jail and hope a Blood break him down Call that a sickle cell Couple pennies for your thoughts, that's a wishing well Robin Williams gypsy spell, wish him well Catch me lampin, sippin' on zinfandel Fire, give 'em hell, yea I'm spittin' braille You could feel it's real without seeing your fingernails [Verse 6: Styles P] I'm the one who put the pro in the problem Who bring gargoyles and goblins and ghosts But mostly they know I be mobbin' or robbin' I used to get choice [?] on mic, I will abuse you Don't let this juice or this book sh** confuse you Lose you like a phone that sweats In the club when I'm drunk I break bones and necks I'm a lyrical murderer, condone your d**h [Verse 7: Mickey Factz] Chain punching, Spawn at a Blade function Or Scorpion for the only time he say somethin' Timbalands on like Drake sung it I'm from a great dungeon, Outkast with 3k tucked in This Big Boi account, please show me the money That's the way to go, rappers is retarded on the radio Cuba Gooding gifted hands, jot every rhyme Furious Styles, yep, my pops gave me lines [Verse 8: Styles P] Wicked is as wicked does You ain't spin wicked then, we can't even kick it cuz Blood came through I just ask what the ticket was Hmm, contemplating sh** I'll stick 'em up I'm just searching for balance, soul need lifting up Any challenger challenge, body need picking up Air him out, like a room full of smoke Or blow his brains out like a room full of coke [Verse 9: Mickey Factz] I run the campus but still heir to the chairman So the prince a pull cards like Gambit when I get near em Light up the ace of spades, colourful money I'm sorry homie, your paper plane Go 'head and toss it, I'm flossin', you got a pay per line Cause that's the paper line, paid to rhyme Wishdraw liquid cash til the bank is dry Hip Hop Banksy to a blank sheet Thank me for all of this art, none of the paint free [Verse 10: Styles P] Styles! Thank us for the art, thank us for the thoughts The paint ain't free and the pain come à la carte What's a small brain with a shallow heart? Then so we on the same road, but we miles apart I am Ant-Man with a little Darth Vader I am a Raider but where's my lost arc? It's like lyrics is like a lost art Told Factz facts but just let the peach Porsche stop