
Myers
[Round 1: Ghostface]
Yo, Iâm the Ghostface killer, phone call thriller,
Sneak in your crib, make your whole spine shiver,
Iâm slick with the blade, leave your legacy stained,
Youâre slow with the stab, just a mute and deranged.
Iâm the mastermind, playing games with your mind,
You just stalk in the darkâboring, borderline blind.
Haddonfieldâs got nothinâ but the same sad spree,
I switch it up, fresh kills like a horror movie spree.
[Round 1: Michael Myers]
Silent but deadly, mask game legendary,
Been slashing since the â70sâyour rhymes are temporary.
You hide behind phones, man, thatâs weak and pathetic,
I walk through the flames, unstoppable, kinetic.
No cheap tricks or games, just pure raw fear,
They tremble when they hear that The Shape is near.
Iâm the icon, the nightmare you canât outrun,
Youâre a copycat killer, boy, Iâm the original one.
[Round 2: Ghostface]
Original? Nah, just washed-up and tired,
While Iâm the fresh horror thatâs constantly wired.
Every callâs a death note, youâre lost in the past,
You creep slowâI cut deep, kill fast.
Youâre trapped in your mask, no style, no flair,
Just a dusty mechanic with a dead-eyed stare.
The fear I bring? Itâs psychological thrill,
Youâre just brute force, no finesse, no skill.
[Round 2: Michael Myers]
Skill? Youâre a child playing dress-up for screams,
Iâm the nightmare embedded deep in their dreams.
Iâve been slaughtering teens before you had a name,
Decades of carnage, perfected the game.
I donât need words, my presence alone chills,
While you hide behind masks and cheap dollar bills.
Endless sequels? Yeah, they all bow to me,
Youâre a gimmick, a phaseâIâm pure legacy.
[Final Round: Ghostface]
Legacy? Please, youâre stuck in repeat,
While I switch it up, clever rhymes with heat.
I redefine fear with each new face,
Youâre chasing the past, Iâm setting the pace.
So keep walking slow with your rusty olâ knife,
While Iâll keep making calls that cut through your life.
Slashers evolve, and Iâm leading the way,
Youâre just yesterdayâs nightmareâfading away.
[Final Round: Michael Myers]
Fading away? Iâm immortal, no death,
Youâre a cheap knock-off with borrowed breath.
My silence speaks louder than all your weak lines,
Evil incarnate, transcending all time.
You can try all your tricks, but hereâs the cold truth:
Legends donât die, they just sharpen their roots.
So hang up the phone, itâs your end, little creep,
The Boogeymanâs hereâand youâre going to sleep.
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