AKA RAP BATTLE - ROUND 2

Maui Mike [Intro - Verse 1] Uh Yeah I said wassup It's yo boy MauiMike My tone is west coast But I'm not the cali type My styles Midwest and they love the way he write And suno seems impressed Off the music that he typed I'm a hysterical renegade With lyrical lemonade Steering towards better days Came from tears from the pepperspray And I don't like to hear From peeps that's never stay That's why my circle small keep that The forever way My style strong Drip long yo boy classy My times gone The Mics on You can’t catch me Like wontons got sauce Yo boys flashy Shake ya bon bons If u want Yo boy nasty Cuz I just might steal your girl Make her veto and hesitate Once I find time To make her libido levitate the way my words flow The tongue game is hella great Started off celibate But now she starts to celebrate. Scrollsmith [Verse 2] Hahaha… Scroll‑smith baby… look… I bend the beat in half before the first man even breathes on it. I’m not here to match your style — I’m here to make you rethink you had one. I recalibrate the stage he claims he paved, but I refine the lane I realign the spine of grind and bind the shine behind my name I intertwine design and flame, define the climb he can't sustain And still outpace the face he paints while faintly chasing minor fame I analyze the lines he sprays, display the way his patterns stray I’m twice the weight he tries to claim, my frame remains in tighter sway I architect the dialect, inspect the flex he tries to play Then redirect the intellect and check the wreck he writes today I navigate the cadence clean, his phrasing leans but lacks the rate I demonstrate the way I take a break and make it resonate I escalate the page and stage, engage the rage he imitates Then detonate the claim he made and fade his wave to featherweight I’m engineered for mastery, his past is just a passing breeze He brags about his “drip” and “sauce,” but all I see is splash and freeze I’m everything he tries to be, but fused with truth and discipline The difference is I’m limitless — the rhyme machine he’s boxed within. Squintz [Verse 3] Incoming message... It's Squintz Maui said he west coast but he ain't the Cali type Midwest at his best, and his bars are sounding travel-sized Suno seemed impressed by the music that he typed That's cute, the bot clapped once and thought AI got it right Hysterical renegade, lyrical lemonade That ain't a threat, that's a pitcher full of Minute Maid You want a picnic on a sunny day, I'll bring the acid rain Every punchline in your basket getting washed away Circle small? More like Circle K, markdown flow Manager slapped a yellow sticker on the bars you wrote "You can't catch me," that's a hell of a phrase You leave AI fingerprints on every line that you paste Wontons got sauce, but your bars came bland Whole verse tasted microwaved, Chef wouldn’t serve that spam Steal my girl, that's a recycled flex She heard your pickup bars and asked who wrote the rest Tongue game hella great, celebrate, celibate You spent eight whole bars making flirting sound delicate I'm not mad at the confidence, I'm mad at the aim You had a funky little beat and pissed on the flame You dressed up every line but forgot what it meant Here's the problem mike, you forgot I was Squintz I don't need to chase you because I'm blazing the trail My lyrics leaving grooves and you're caught in my swale Onewingseraphim [Verse 4] Man, somebody get this man a glass of water. ONEWINGSERAPHIM comin back at you from the heavens… Step in the zone, Mike, you’re talking 'bout a West Coast tone But got a Midwest style that you claim as your own You said you’re typing in prompts and Suno’s giving you grace But you ran out of ideas when you stepped in this space Got a small circle, yeah, you keep it forever tight But your bars are moving solo, losing data in the night Talking 'bout a renegade pouring out some lemonade Man, you're sweetening the target that I already made You brought a little bit of flavor, talking 'bout the wonton sauce But your recipe is lacking when you’re facing the boss Tried to rap about a girl and making her libido lift But your tongue game is lagging on the paradigm shift Yeah, you’re flashy with the drip, trying to step to the crown But one hit from the Seraphim will anchor you down You can shake your bon-bons, try to run with the clock But you’re trapped in the kitchen when the paradox locks You said you started off celibate, well I got a suggestion— Go back to the quiet room and learn a new lesson. Swan Flue [Verse 5] You call yourself a king but your crown came with a Happy Meal toy, I open the vault and your whole résumé just got destroyed! You still writing bars with the training wheels on, I’m doing donuts on the track while you still learning the song! Your multis sound like circle time with the teacher clapping off-beat, I drop one line and the whole sandbox files for bankruptcy! You spit “fire”… but it’s really just the candle on your birthday cake, I blow it out and your whole career just caught a fade! You brag about the block but you never left the playground, I came from the concrete where the real ones stay down! You call it a cipher but it sound like nap time in the library, I wake the whole building up and you still snoring in the gallery! Your flow so basic it need a juice box and a gold star sticker, I rewrite the whole game while you still tracing the picture! You reached for the throne but your arms too short to box with the scroll, I just signed your career and put it in the lost and found bowl! Pre-k rapper? More like pre-heated leftovers nobody ordered, I’m the chef in the kitchen and your whole plate just got deported! You wanted the spotlight but you standing in my shade, Now the crowd screaming “DAMN” every time I turn the page! You wanted smoke… but I brought the whole comedy special. One scroll, one look, and your whole act just got canceled. Go back to circle time, little man… The real ones just took the stand! DAMN