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 shit nigga
Or jumping on my dick
Ghost or a G host nigga, you'll get your mind flipped
[Verse 3: Mickey Factz]
What up sideline suckas?
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 fuck about your metaphors, styles or your format
Lyrically this my house, nigga you just a doormat
Meaning you get stepped on nigga or get your jaw cracked
I be tellin' niggas to fall back
https://www.elyricsworld.com/vs_lyrics_mickey_factz.html
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 Muslim 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 shit 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 death
[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 shit 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
