[Intro]
Gridline Rap Battles
Michael Myers
Vs
Mike Myers
Begin

[Verse 1 - Michael Myers (Mr. Tibbs)]
Happy Halloween. All Hallows Eve
When Michael's on the scene, all who follow dream
Of the precedent, the legacy I carried on my back
That no goalie or roasty toasty ghostie can try to match
While your legacy was capped by some animated trash
Meant to latch and piggyback off a better studio
Can't make another movie, though
Got moody, ask the cast; this cat is a batshit hack
With the hat trick of bad flicks crashing your whole career
It won't move as slow as me when the end is nеar
And, with Shrek in the rear viеw mirror, you fell flat
Plus your improv isn't funny, didn't laugh

[Verse 2 - Mike Myers, Dr. Evil, "Austin Powers", & Deiter (Zawesome)]
Mr. Powers, there's no room for you I'm afraid
If you're looking to spit sick, it's too late
I've sent a killer on the mic to kill you quick
"Well I'm afraid, doctor, he can't spit." Well, shit
So let's use some hindsight. Are you really that iconic?
It's hard to find a best list with even your first movie on it
It's not like there's new hits; by, like, your sixth, it's all hollow
No matter how bad the new flicks blow, shit follows
Like, sure, you're the basis for the rest, now you're a joke, a mess
Just a silly bitch, comedic fluff at best
I speak for a generation. It's mean, but it's gotta be said
I beg, after this time, stay fucking dead
[Verse 3 - Michael Myers (Mr. Tibbs)]
Made cherished characters, the love grew without you
Became sellouts, too. Then they fell out, too
Boxed up in the attic, you tried to go dramatic
Then proceeded to shit out movies in the discount rack
It's pathetic, you has-been neurotic nutcase on your last grace
Shrek rose from the grave, letting you save yellow face
No matter the timeline, I can never be stopped
Just like how you always make classic films, not

[Verse 4 - Mike Myers, Wayne Campbell, & Deiter (Zawesome)]
It's quite sad when an indie series sells out for a buck
Because your new stuff's like Pizza Hut, they fucking suck
Let's be real: The classics are trash; there's no flash, pizzazz
To the gashing, blood splashing. Supposed to be cool slashing
Career revered, look at my shelf (I got gooooooold)
No longer fun, collects dust on the shelf (you got oooooooold)
Because you're boring, relevance tied to YouTube rants
Your rhymes have become tiresome. Now we dance

[Outro]
Who won?
Who's next?
You decide
Gridline Rap B-(announcer gets killed)