URLtv - Loaded Lux vs. Midwest Miles lyrics

[Round 1: Loaded Lux] You know he gon’ bring the poker game face, he done studied the game tapes Well let him come, sh** he could tell me what side I look better from I’m never sprung, marks think they test smart and they step sharp That’s why I make that a** look bad like stretch marks Catch hard feelings and, slack up like high waters the tides on ya’ I’m back for the side order, try warn him Man play mega I’m Vega with a pen Slip dog, get ripped more than Schwarzenegger in the gym sh**, day he get a win, there’ll be visiting stations Rivers in nations, Mars a have civilization He’s a phony henchman You in Lux house, you flinch you get duffed out like you drinking with Homer Simpson It’s no contending, and this my third hobby, with words I’ll be Next to rule, and I ain’t Irv Gotti sh** moms knew it long through it schooling ya’, all my wrongdoings where they duke it and throwing hadoukens Ain’t no being ‘all you can’ B is a dead guy running, his chest large pumping His head [?] punches and his left eye jumping You repped yo’ side, my set gon’ ride Lies, tell me gas prices had you petrified I check both sides, when crossing I run the route I’m the king, I cue pawns, now cut it out You know what this sh** about, it’s hundreds to fling You gon’ either jump in the ring or get under the wing Ain’t sharing with the dogs, we got sh** to clear them all I be in your lobby letting that thing sing, I be airing halls He don’t wanna spar mucus His b**h spit better, lips wet up, she done been in more laps than Carl Lewis I write my wrongdoings ’bout life in the hard ruin The metro card student, he duck and he dodge through it How you living Miles? “In my mom’s roof I’m hostage, can’t fondle my ostrich Got a job moving boxes” I pitch the trap grams Put down that same hustle, distribute rap jams My disc get wrapped, scanned – my lyrics backhand More DVD n***as tried to put me on the cam than a Diplomat fan He don’t click and clack cans, Miles hit dust if his shot bust He like a Grand Theft cheat code, his guns just popped up He gon’ say I’m wrong, well, when he right? I come heavy he gon’ b**h up – this emcee light I come to town like [?], wallet or I’m violent I beat you till you leaking violet And they thought Big was the wildest ‘Lux who on your level new?’ Very few, measured to a medical incredible never met a dude better who Think they on my pedestal Get my fist in ya’ whole mouth I’m Theraflu, I be knocking these n***as cold out And I don’t hold out, it’s strike first then the pipe burst Might jerk, squeeze on n***as like tight shirts Duck or your head a be struck, your life dirt We come through, Con Edison trucks – you light work [Round 1: Midwest Miles] Fake n***as write verses, and fill ’em with lies But I see the girl in you Lux, from the b**h in your eyes Who you fooling? You a chick with a dick, a b**h in disguise And I’m a real hood n***a, who would get k**ed for my pride I peel with the nine, bust off my aim dead nice For that cane, you get it worse than Harold did at the red light n***a get your head right, you ain’t never did no homi You a little n***a like Martin I’m in his apartment like Cole Well he see me I’m rolling with the Tommy Tommy gun run out, I’m going for the shotty Pop him and leave shotgun pellets all over yo’ body I’m feeling big as Yao Ming, when I’m rolling with the rocket You’s the f*ggot n***a in jail, holding n***as’ pockets The way I take his bread I’m like a hole in his pocket Watch sparks fly from the chrome when I pop it Your ho I only pop it when I’m lazy off the piff She unzip a n***a pants, and go crazy with the dick I bust off I’m gone, man I’m Swayze on the chick She a jump off, a freak, you having babies with the b**h The way I f** the sh** out her, she should pay me for the dick I’ma send her home to you like, “You shady lil’ b**h” The four-fifth spark and it bang you I done caught more n***as slipping, than guardian angels The Desert Eagle put a hole in you, and your guardian angel I’m on streets and I’m like Satan, and dog is a angel You see me hunting n***as, mask and a pipe For them j**els you get your a** beat worse than Pa**ion of Christ I’ma prove this n***a washed up, after tonight If I get close enough, sh** I’m stabbing him twice Listen, my gun like a good nut, just something that I had to bust I seen you couple Smacks ago, hollering and screaming, spitting on everything, sounding like Daffy Duck Two guns up, I’m aiming for it, you Daffy Duck I was aiming for his head but a n***a yelled “Dog somebody tell Daffy duck” Lil’ f*ggot f**, I could hardly wait To expose the n***a from the Nutcracker video doing the Harlem Shake Real n***as gon’ see it man, dog is fake I’m here every month, I see all the money that Harlem make This n***a wanna be 50, but you standing in my face looking more like Carlton Banks I’m locked and loaded Lux When that Lorcin start sparking Hit his chest, and rip his vest all off him My k**ers all awesome I tell ’em k** all ’em Catch Lux at the Rucker, he getting more shot often than Spalding n***a I’m balling [Round 2: Loaded Lux] They see my n***as up north getting full on that jack [?] First Smack back I got a n***a to back-smack I love it, quit it adjusting your fitted, I’m twisting your cap back ‘Cause I bang hard, these game-card n***as just scratching matches He rapping like he trapping You sick say to just imagine, you sound like Tinactin, n***a you tough-acting The fact is, you’s a waste of my motherf**ing time n***a You cutting into your mother’s f**ing time n***a You don’t come up and grind with us I don’t owe you no paper You owe me, f** is you? I’m doing the favor The rookies wanna take shots, well I just get ’em open off the picks Slick give me that Jigga n***a, ’cause he don’t know when to quit I say Miles, leave that b**h, I aim to stiff fit It’s why you lick clit, your dick slip Wished you could find somebody you could stick with It’s a picnic out here and only lions eat And you type, lie and sleep inside the street Type joes, hit car shows, and pimp the driver’s seat Miles ain’t seen flipping doors before Dominique I’m in his momma suite, she throating the thing I tell her where the better, yeah, hop up on this pole and spring I ain’t rap sh** sole, ’cause the rap ring hold Corny n***as they give deals like Sach’s Fifth Clothes But Lux say, I got a style like I backswing hoes I’m witty I’m slicker than that hair on Nat King Cole But you, you sound simple, real jack-be-nimble Type a guy just, rock up by with lullabies I mean, what could you do? Tattle tell her in a cellar I seek the crew, jumped a n***a for his shoes I mean, y’all could do it too So they ain’t built like that Well Loaded, sh** I’m just Lux n***a, sk**s like that When you get back to the D, with a L n***a ‘Cause you repping, tell ’em I broke down you, and them D12 n***as He’s a fruit Smack Him swift, that’s bizarre He’s a con artist playing conniving but, where’s the proof at? Ask the Mook cat Mention my nickname you probably smell sh** stains I’m in the ring breaking ’em up like Mills Lane You’s the f**ing meal ticket, co*ks**er deal with it I’m over the hills, tell your guys don’t die over some hills, b**h You oughta quit ‘Cause I’ll flip like a jolly dolphin Who ever body guard is pushing up flower gardens Lie on the track, and die on your back with the trolly charging Rip your necks out, poke your chest out like Dolly Parton This is so Johnny Carson Which strip you working? You working, helping other businesses, bringing in health benefits Last battle, you was hungry n***a Mouth full of spit You looked like a Mike Epps joke with the white around yo’ lips Bruising the n***a, thrown in the mud He was confused from the hits, he didn’t know who he was He blew through the strip like a Hoover Crip, throwing up blood You should brag that b-rag that’s smart kid ‘Cause blood’s the only thing the tar get from the target He another bad guy, in the Steven Seagal flick He getting his skull kicked I wanna see [?] And back at the apartment, and this sh** looking crucial Look at me n***a, I did this to you [Round 2: Midwest Miles] Last time I checked, I was the man on these streets They call me ‘Barbecue,’ I keep heat when it’s beef, peep You had your time and let it pa** along Just another battle rapper, making trashy songs You a ‘hot 16′ n***a, a hot 16 n***as, ay y’all out the car infrared beam n***as I’m ’bout my money my paper, ‘nah mean n***a? So for that cream n***a I Martin Luther King n***as These rap n***as don’t love me, they wanna see me hit Slumped over in my ride and take my sh** I got news I’m strapped, you can take this clip [?] n***as be gangsters and I hate this sh** I can’t stand n***as like you, yeah they make me sick Type of n***as get all tough on camera, but behind the scenes they take in dick I ain’t with the back and forth and slick sh** I get on some quick sh** And pop him in his head Like “b**h, come on, come up out of that bread” [Round 3: Loaded Lux] f** is he liquored up? If he was ever sicker than Lux he was calling nurses He should be parked in church with, pastors and psalm verses Sketched out getting, stretched out in long hearses Liars should be put in a box for con verses Don’t talk to me in battles like you could afford a castle Yeah you a baller, you always walking where you travel I point rock his joints pop and your joints lock And blippie, it’s like Pippy, I come with a long stocking Who in here think he hot? See, you remind ’em of O’Neal They probably think you should k** but you ain’t got no shot You ain’t in the block [?] All he sold is green You ain’t ever pumped [?] till you heard ‘Shoulder Lean’ He know I’m gon’ bring it when I bet I’m with his set, that n***a [?] the [?], where you at? Get this scaredy cat a bottle of Ritalin, hollering riffing Slow p**y gotta be kidding The word out, yeah, you the n***a they work with I knew you was providing the names from when we was conversing I told him, I got a lot of spots ’cause I’m trying to gain You know what he say? I should try a different detergent You’ll settle for airbags, I need a jet Like I’m selling cheese from TV, I need the aircraft Make the cheddar stretch I mean, I’m hitting every step sh**, Roseanne old man, I’m doing heavy sets Yeah flex, poke your chest make your shirt break Fake Superman, worst shape small desk and some workspace Your Clark Kent [?] rims ain’t worth squirt Mase He humble in the jungle, he wouldn’t rumble an earthquake He faking, I’m funky with it Fungus with a thousand punches, I be coming up with sh** You swear I’m coming down with something See y’all nothing Pump him, get his jaw spread Boston should market this beef, I want the bull’s head Long bread, if I can’t get broke off, he will Walk with a cane, cause you old dog You ain’t no menace to society He Chauncey, sit in the pad mad Pistol whipped ’cause he grabbed half [?] His n***as kick in the pad and the remote then they laugh This look like Lux on his tape, whipping your a** This sh** sad, you shoulda stuck to hustling You pack bags I’m bad, you f**ing garbage, man you rap trash Who you gon’ blast? Who you smoke last n***a? You wouldn’t take out takeout, broke-a** n***a You smoke trash n***a Your weed look like parsley I hit that Marley, I dangle ’round the angels like Bargsley Arch, seat back, the Cris’ gone like Farley Bangers in the change and the car tunes ain’t Archie It ain’t a beat I k**s later, you weak on the ball Screech Catch me in the cut, if your bob through she f** ‘Cause you can’t f** and I ain’t picking up, when the call beep b**h to smush, she just a nut, Gnarls Barkley She f**ing crazy, was never Usher lady Gold digger with some broke n***a that had Busta baby I told Kanye b, “You slip that mickey, to that mouse she ain’t a minis” He like “Yo send me these samples” She a bug bunny, like to get her jelly jammed, f her man Play him on every hand His tool won’t fly like Peter Pan And if it did, never land [Round 3: Midwest Miles] f** the guns, take it hand-to-hand I fight your a** When it’s time to ride this n***a claiming that his license bad I ain’t the type to brag but I bust a gun And I be damned if I lose to a f*ggot-a** n***a that still s** his thumb Your life on the line, you should f**ing run I pulled the gun that n***a froze, he’s f**ing dumb You had a little buzz Lux, what the f** happened? You in videos shaking your a** more than you are rapping I’m a captain with beams and clips Since that one hot Smack battle, we ain’t seen you since I squeeze the fifth with the meanest clip And if I say he’s a b**h I mean the sh** I hold the sh** and I’m truly ill