B Magic - B Magic vs Tay Roc lyrics

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B Magic - B Magic vs Tay Roc lyrics

[Round 1: B Magic] It's B Magic, mothaf**a, the show arrived When I say I'm carrying a mil it ain't a lunch box Bring a MAC that'll cream his back, like sunblock Pop Roc and roll, you think you rapping to a punk, Roc? What the f** make you think that you could beat Magic When all your setups and punchlines are C average Boy, I'm dope with these rockets, like Steve Francis Have your dome run in your lap, like team practice I keep a .38, the homie got a dirty Glock n***as better sit calm or catch at least 30, Roc 30 shots, Gettysburg, get your whole crew buried Pop steam, give the Roc wings, like the Tooth Fairy See, I'll give a Dot five, like half a gram Trey Block and Pat Side, my lil' n***as Taliban Hit him with a, "Oh sh**!", followed by "Well, I'll be damned!" When it lift, wait, I get that workout without a Bally plan Batter up, somebody should tell you, you and your friends fake You acting and that ain't well, like Larenz Tate Take this square outside and smoke him; that's a cig break You'll be lyin' with a blue face; that's Penn State It's B Magic, boy, I'm shining like oily skin This .40 no Joker, this b**h clowning; Harley Quinn You dying right now, I'm probably looking like Charlie twin This .38 die got them running; Harvey Dent You know, Harvey Dent, Gotham City… you'll get it later Well, I'll get to chopping Roc if I get the razors Get the blazers, this just the beginning, Roc Smack him with the barracuda, n***a, I will Plymouth Roc Cinder block, find me with the grittiest lethal One punch KO, I don't think your gentlemen need you I hit a Dot between his eyes, that's the end of your people And put a dot between your eyes, like the Indian people I slaughter houses; that's Royce Da 5'9" You'll get lead by a gangster; that's organized crime Testing mine, I'll make a n***a dip; that's avocado A hook will make his a** spin, like Colorado I told 'em Magic got these bars, the plan is gutter As soon as I stepped in the building Tay ran for cover Name flip and punchline king, what you saying? Nothin' Sling a shot, I mean the king'll pop, like Janet brother I get after that male, man; no dog chasers Bust shots, b**hes get to running; dog racers It's Wrestlemania whenever Magic send them 4's ‘Cause Rock ain't never seen a n***a like this before Cave gang? Oh, so y'all a bunch of 9 sparkers? Thug n***as, gang bangers, bomb tossers? No bullsh**, this 9 shooting ain't Ron Harper I'll have them shells run into Roc, like Sean Carter I come up to your roof window with a bomb K Leave a stomach on the car dash, like Kanye Boy, it's 'bout to get uglier than Strangé Have 11 bucks shooting guards over mine, Tay [Round 1: Tay Roc] You told Young Kannon "Tay Roc took you to a cliff and tripped you." Well, if I k**ed him and he k**ed you, you know what you into? Nah, tell me, why they sent you? If St. Louis was a restaurant You'd be the cheapest sh** on the menu These punches you can't block knowing Jiu Jitsu I load up them magazines, you gon get your issue The clip's so long it should say, "To be continued…" n***a, watch your mouth, I'll ice your house; that's a igloo Y'all watch how I do 'em, just hold that camera still His top get split three different ways; that's a banana peel When this hammer peel, Déjà vu When I spray my tool, you the first n***a this cannon k** Man, for real, who the f** is B stoppin'? You got 3-0'd like two battles ago, but now B poppin'? Let me catch B plottin', I'm gripping the waist A pistol whip pushing his face, like B. Hopkins You f**in' with the right one, I'm not lefty You said I can't k** you? n***a, do not let me How the f** you gonna move me? You not ready So I advise this n***a B bop, ‘cause Roc's steady I hit him with the SIG's: the long, then the short Like Crystal Head Vodka, I will leave your skull on a porch Let me find out you snitching, you'll get off'd with a torch My n***as gon get B before he ball to the courts You'll need more than them name flips to beat me He ain't never seen cash money, so how is B G? What the f**, I gotta show out to make B see? Y'all got him ga**ed, once he see them pumps I bet B pee On the other hand, if I hook him and he just ate 'em I'll give B K's like the Brooklyn abbreviation That was light, give me a second and let me get it right He'll get a box, I'll give B K's, like British Knights I find it comical y'all expecting a cla**ical So I'ma give Magic a L; that there is magical Get close, then give him a dose; that's mathematical Punch him in his jaw so hard, I break his clavicle Outbar me? Impractical, I'm too tactical Cruising round with a Tommy, like Jamie Foxx in Collateral No hammer on me, I'm stabbing you, make it graphical Ripping your veins, sending this blade longitude then latitude We both animals, but this ain't your habitat Y'all took a cantaloupe And threw him where a world wild cat was at You tryin' to get robbed? Well, there's an app for that Peep this, whoever I phone will get Magic jacked Give Magic slack? I ain't having that I grab the MAC, it's going "bladadat!" Turn his Cadillac to an acrobat You think you can beat me? I ain't even mad at that Watch who you eyeing, you get smoked for your cataracts So get a vest, hat, bulletproof car and all You, your family, your cars – you better armor all I'm in the streets flashing double D's, like it's Mardi Gras Hit you, then give your pal this, like the Taj Mahal Got everything from hollow tips to Molotov's You lucky we ain't in Maryland, I would've bought them all Bar for bar, I'll k** him, they'll have to haul 'em off Take a risk, watch, get clocked and sent where all them are p**y! You heard what the f** I said You jumped in this ring with Roc Y'all know this motherf**er dead Beat me? Can you believe what this motherf**er said? He must've slipped, fell and bumped his motherf**ing head [Round 2: B Magic] Uhh... Lil Tay Tay, let me teach youuu how to spit the heat No spatula, but I got some metal that'll flip the beef This Hulk-a-maniac, when it get to ring it'll rip your T These Young Gunz raising up the Roc ain't Chris and Neef Get me chief? You say sh** like, "Roc could get tipped off." I'm pissed off that you still making punches 'bout Kriss Kross That miggity mack sh**, slap whoever told you that sh** hard Trip dawg and I'll stage a shooting, like Rick Ross Big Boss, boy, ain't nothing p**y 'bout this gang of cats Hot slugs flying through the Cave, like a gang of bats Demarco, bring it back, wanna hear a K spit? Get beat in a battle on some DNA sh** Straight piff, boy, my flow tighter than Wayne pants Left hooks, then I start doing right; I'm a changed man If Roc don't know the rundown, well, here's the game plan Have the bones hanging round the neck of this Cave man Know I'm serious when I spray cans into him Yo, Danja, dying is so easy a Cave Man can do it Leaking fluid, f**ing with your boy Magic I'll murk your b**h Open up on the front of your car, like Urkel whip If Tay don't stop mugging it's gon be a fight Dumper make Sweet Chin Music and super kicks With this here in the piece I get ludicrous Come a-cross where your G's is, like a crucifix Spook the b**h, Tay Roc, you a clown n***a You was a Proving Ground n***a Before the Proving Ground n***as Wave your hand shake before I give you the pound, n***a Videographer; I shoot you and the crowd with ya Let me turn up, ‘cause I don't save pussies, I sell a bit .40 knocking, you don't got no choice but to let 'em in You sleep? I come in, peel a cap; that's medicine Start from feet, then I'm moving on up, like The Jeffersons I'm hella fixed, boy, you done turned down the wrong road I bet these three 16's will leave this stone cold So try again like you typed in the wrong code I'm shocked, G, I'll leave you underground with this long nose Well, what you think of that? This n***a Tay trippin' n***as tried you before, but never Tay crippin' I'll catch him outside, no need to dump the fifth in ‘Cause the 32 clip'll be banging; Blake Griffin Listen, this n***a better stay in a rock place I rush more just to press a dent into Roc face This combination that I give him ain't a lock safe I mean, when you get the beats it ain't by Dre It's my place, what up, homie? I'm the new guy Knife grip, make your wife strip, like True Lies You can get the whole 10 or these two 5's Bring pain to your crib, my Tommy got a new job [Round 2: Tay Roc] What, I gotta come to St. Louis, show you I get ill? Tuck my tre pounds, smack your son off the big wheel Tell him holla for his father, I'll show you the sh**'s real I hear a verb out your mouth you getting this hollow tip drill b**h, chill, before I grip steel He'll see AR's, then spend his life in a trunk That's the 5th wheel I don't f** with pork and I know y'all pigs squeal I get you a closed casket if you don't keep your lips sealed You told me not to punch with you, I don't understand If this was boxing he'd be the one throwing 200 punches And only twenty land That's why bar for bar you can't f** with this vet I premeditate, don't throw unless my punches connect You wanted this wreck Well, I ain't one of them n***as to get mad I knock 'em out, leave Magic on the floor, like witchcraft Your b**h a**, you the type to let n***as snap 6 stars in your face and spit on your Crip rag You wanna ride on me? Well, you won't get past I knock a chip off Magic mountain and take his six flag Your best bet is to shake or get left slim fast No games, you don't wanna be it when you get tagged You wanna die? So it's your ditch I'ma dig I drink Ciroc, boy, don't make me put this 5th to your head No, I'll get sir rocked once that fifth to his head I'm a serial k**er, Magic, tricks are for kids To keep it G, we should've been battled If I knew you would've wanted it with me I would've been at you; catch your mom's mom while she picking them granny smith apples Give your granny the Smith, how you like them apples? You ain't know saying my name would get you long gone? You barely beat Chilla, f** with me you getting bombed on You gon make me palm arms, shoot the clip 'Til it click, click, click; sound like the Big Sean song In your last battle I peeped some awkward sh** You told Juice he'll be the first to get rocked, like Charlie Clips Well, I'll shoot your mother, your father Even your aunts get hit And you'll be the last to get rocked, like Charlie Clips Why should I start with you? I been on a mean streak Suge, Kannon, O Red dead, I left Qleen sleep Knock the block off Rich Dolarz, I made him seem weak Brought that broom out on Cortez, gave him that clean sweep Out of all of them n***as, you ain't like that for real Now Smack got you taking this a** whooping I had for III You'll hit the tile and all once I let half it peel They'll send your son flowers once you pushing up daffodils So do your best to look alive while you standing thurr You said you was gon 3-0 me on that camera thurr You don't wanna throw the hands in hurr I'll beat him something sick Once these hands done, they'll have to give this man a cure Let me hear that you getting them dead presidents I pull up, pop the trunk of the Lincoln That's what the weapon in Once I run up, bend your men, go get the settlement And you gon' get your face on the 50, like Jefferson I catch him on a day that he trying to let his flag show Beat his head with a pipe 'til it turn to a flag pole Put you in the IC if I let the mag show Get it? Magic-Show, and the eye see if the mag show f** it, don't nobody do this like I do this This saint don't think he gon' take an L… oh, you is Right before his eyes I done spelled out "St. Louis" This saint don't think he gon' take an L… oh, you is [Round 3: B Magic] Yeah, I'm back on my bullsh**, I'm next to blow A lot of mothaf**as gotta die, but you next to go Boy, when this metal to your chest it ain't a stethoscope You gon see a space through him like a telescope Let him know, Roc about to die, get the yellow tape Draw on the next n***a who ask me if III is straight Magic, disrespect me, that's when the show stop Grid Iron Gang, I guess I gotta coach Roc See, I don't smell what Roc cooking when he use a plot To show n***a I crack heads I'ma use a rock Put Tay to sleep, that's a Roc-a-bye when I shoot the Glock For trying to jack Black I'll teach you how to school a Roc I keep a cal, boy, for this kid Roc You get a price on your head; that's a wig shot Big shots, I will Chris Roc Need I tell 'em more? You bad company What you think I brought this lethal weapon for? One day I gotta k** Tay, that's what the mob say Well, I want the Roc right now, Like Rob Base So go and swing if you feeling like Devon, Tay I get the talking with these toys, like Tom Hanks You f** boy, you f**ing with the wrong one You swing, a pop fly, you better make it home, run A tip will bank heads whenever I zone one Just know that this Tom Tom got a long drum Dumb, this 32 packer ain't Reggie White Scratch that, this 80 raid a n***a; Jerry Rice Let it sing, it's a friend of mine; Kelly Price Give the pa**enger 57; Wesley Snipes You wanna throw up? Bet, you all fight me And I'll send him to meet God, like Bruce Almighty Try me and I'll clear the whole Cave when I blam a shot Tay will get that Bambaataa, I'll put you in the planet, Roc Wait 'til it's dark to go bomb this b**h town You won't see the daylight if you don't calm that sh** down Your b**h in NY? Say word, n***a I'll take your boo in New York, like Verb, n***a You do you, I do me, that'll make your days better Son him with one arm; Tay'II get Swave Sevah'd Shoutout to Team Homi, I ain't come to play with ya This ain't the first time some clips and a K hit ya Wanna throw some hands? We can, Roc Call me a**hole one more time and this hand co*k This my undertaker, it'll pick up and slam Roc We'll Damien Marley him; we'll come to jam Roc Roc don't need a revival, so give Roc a wear Cop new heaters, like new sneakers; I got a pair Tell this n***a Chilla, I'm the reason Ric got the flair It's Magic, I don't feel gucci unless that flocka there I told 'em once, these motherf**ers scared I'm from the motherf**ing Lou That's how a motherf**er play it Beat me? Can you believe what lil Tay Tay done said? He must've slipped, fell, and bumped your motherf**ing head [Round 3: Tay Roc] You ain't smart, you should've known not to f** with me You under me, the n***as that's over you, they run from me You ever been in the 40/40? My bar's luxury I should make this fruit leak juice for tryin' to punch with me The hammer got kick back, like Tai Chi I let off 106, they got parked wherever Roc see I'm like Hova with a Glock, when I rock B Aye, Math, this Crip gon be the one y'all see RIP You better dash, like Dame, ‘cause this the wrong way You lost to Heartless, wanna battle Con; what you on, yay? Aye, I don't play, this MAC ain't Beanie Sigel Once I rock him y'all won't see him again I'll Memphis Bleek you I take two Uzi's, then make two movies ‘Cause once I shoot the extended clip, I shoot the sequel Do the math! Some think this don't add up Some think you in my division I'm just thinking: "Where are we equal?" I walk around with a street sweeper; custodian Spray the can 'til the smoke clear, like Osmium Glock click, co*k it, pop it, it'll open him The doctors looking at him like a closet, ‘cause they closin' him Go ahead, get Roc salty; sodium The hawk got a blue steel handle, the blade rhodium I cut your face, stick your fingers Through the hole, then sew it in Break your jaw, once that sh** get wired it get broke again Charlie beat me, but with you it ain't going down Since then all I could see is clips when I unload these rounds If he see me on his block when he roll around The chopper Conceited size, I wish he would slow it down Here's where I turn it up a notch; thermostat When y'all find BM dead it ain't Bernie Mac Learn the facts, I'm not a Crip, n***a, I'm Cave Gang We daps it up with the left hand, but we don't gang bang See, wait, you was better off being a team mate The odds will get even if I hit him with that .38 Rat on me? That's a closed casket, n***a, cremate f** a lawsuit, n***a, this gon' be a brief case If you was strapped, I'd backhand ya And dare you whip out a pistol I get you cracking, ‘cause I jack hammers Shots will show his insides, like a CAT scanner We at his funeral 30 deep, like the Black Panthers That's bad manners, Smack made you a marked target I'll put your buds in a box, like a Large Harvest You said you'd 3-0 me, but couldn't off Heartless For selling people those dream you should be con artist I'm goin' bonkers, every bar a dome shot Hat low, all in his face, this that old Roc Two n***as, four burners; n***a, that's that stove top Magic had a good run; n***a, that's that road block Y'all think he beat me? Still n***as lyin' Tell you like I tell the others, I don't feel n***as' rhymes Who he fooling with them steel gripping lines? Tell him, f**ing with me You'll get smacked; you on Real n***a Time