Loaded Lux vs. Murda Mook [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Murda Mook]

Murda Mook getting them chips again
Last Smack, what happened? My shit came back from Switzerland
Dog you on my dick for what?
You mad at me cuz I ain’t have to get no chips to ya bitch to fuck?
Listen Lux you an infant, I’ll rip you up
Chew you, spit you out and watch them stitch you up
And I’m cool once they fix you up, cuz you got celibate gats
He would never let his pistols bust
I love heats, I think im bout to market some
This nigga flow shaky like he got Parkinsons
Listen, it’s a wrap once I palm the gun
Might as well call me (?) the way I’m robbin’ son
I’m Harlem’s son, if I hear you mumbling that I’m not
Hop in the box and save the gun the trouble of the shot
Cuz the muzzle on the glock, quiet when them shots fire
Til you wondering why you lying under hot fire with a nigga pitchfork
I’m just foreshadowing, moral of the story, pop, quit with all the slick talk
Dog, ya money this short, a benz what my wrist cost
Look at you, look at me, this is what my bitch bought
Fine you enhance the drama, call me the syrup sniper
Cuz I’m a shoot ya Aunt Jemima everybody in ya family dog
I got no remorse I even clap the family dog
Ya bitch want a real man to score
Probably cuz he the type to nut before she get to take her panties off
You immature, just like ya measly flow,
This nigga here, government bread, easy dough
I’ll let you live, but you better be easy tho
Cuz I could make you sit calm (sitcom) like a TV show

[Round 1: Loaded Lux]

This nigga so fucking frail
He ain’t trust his skills when he heard he had to battle me
He couldn’t sleep he needed a week to go home and write raps for me
He got word from the faculty, “he nice, we need a strategy”
Now I’m a put this money up, but look Mookie don’t embarrass me
Well actually that’s when the dude come in
I heard you balling you getting some schooling in
That nigga gon come home and grow up in the same room he grew up in
Don’t play he-man please freeze and keep hands free
Cuz you know the drill, if you pass away
They’ll go behind you like the three man weave
This is ugly, this cat? Y’all put Mugsey on Shaq?
It’s like a pink rugby, grey slacks, how the fuck is we a match?
You rapping for dough? Packing shows? Mook get the hell out
You might as well be yourself at least you know you a fucking sell out
Look I’m about getting this money, CTC, cut the check, give Lux respect
Aye fuck youngin’ on PCP? You was getting high with the Dell guy?
He telling you the PC’s free?
What happened to that part deal on the DVD?
Aye I couldn’t believe I turned on the Smack shit and seen his face
Like goddamnit this nigga parents smacked some shit up on his face
Don’t start, I’m a shark in a pond with a guppy
I rap how he look, so yeah this shit gon get ugly
Yeah I’m convinced you ain’t even have to sell to retire
Nigga you wouldn’t kick a hot bar if ya cell was on fire
That’s his moms again, my cell be on fire
Bitch wearing me down I tell her like “you cutting up!”
She say wait, you hearing me now? I said
You better take this butter to escape this gutter
You’ll never make mill’s like Jae Millz mother
Glock on my waste, and I don’t carry birds for dinner
Ya bitch I pop her and skate
She’ll get shot in her face like a Larry Bird defender
Look, he taking L’s with that Dave Chappelle hazy sell
Mook Murda keep coming up short like Asian males
Yo, you like an employee that just got fired, this nigga work bad
Aye, whats that new nigga Violator just signed? Oh yea, he got dirt bags
Mook don’t wanna serve fiends he knew what my birds bring
Get the crills, hit the fields, hustle like the 3rd string
Mook let the mic go you ice cold
Caucasians buy most of the albums
This nigga wouldn’t even go white gold
You don’t like Load, look at him, he wanna catch me in a bag
Wet me with lead, murder me in it

[Round 2: Murda Mook]

Forever I’m in floss mode
Even after I’m shot I bet you catch me in a drop at the cross roads
And I sport clothes that cost more than four 0’s
Lord knows I bought robes for where the Porsche goes
You wanna talk dough? Let’s talk plasma
And dust from money machines until you got asthma
Y’all rookies at this, I got the game pad locked
Look at the clock, doc, don’t put up a bad shot
I got a stash box that’s big enough to stash glocks
Big enough to have blocks running like they ass hot
This nigga a fake wolf, he a Minnesota mascot
In my hood they finding bodies in where the trash drop
I’m past hot, I should be living on Mars
Here’s a list of MC’s that can kill you in 8 bars
Murda, Jigga, Jada, used to be Nas
But now he on some shit about the moon and the stars
This nigga falling off, that’s just part of the cycle
How I’m doing this lil kid, y’all got me feeling like Michael
And I ain’t trying to catch a charge, so quit with all the reckless talk
If he say he got a deal, he about to buy a deck of cards
All my weapons large, type of shit I’m letting off
Type of shit that mafucking Sadaam was arrested for
I’ll put ya name in stardom, under innocent victim found slain in Harlem
If you think you a problem, I’ll subtract you from ya fam
Plus, I’m multiplying my stacks up for them grams
You don’t really wanna blam, he just talking like operators
Hood silencers, you wanna eat some hot potatoes?
Cops portray us to be trouble makers, cuz I bubble cakes up
And I’m like a Zerox cuz I double paper

[Round 2: Loaded Lux]

Y’all bet not bet money on y’all plate with this wack shipment
Even he looking like he feeling a lil funny bout his weight
That’s why he eating a lil like fat bitches
My raps vicious and I’m skilled with the choruses
He still cuttin’ crills, hustling pills like Morpheus
Walking into offices, all out of order
This lame in the game and he ain’t score the whole quarter
A&R guy lie worser than his lawyer
They see Mookie thirst but won’t point him to the water
This cat he sweet or the facts his beats
And his raps just weak like crackhead teeth
You couldn’t stack bread cheap when you limited to life
Look, he want a chain but gotta wait til the winter to see ice
I bundle tin man get my yellow brick road on
Y’all all felons cuz even the niggas tellin’ get told on
Last nigga try to work L, prolong, I stole on
Let the dirt trail, church bells and slow songs
In a valley up in (?) since balleys was the kick still
You’ll get shot walking thru my alley like it’s McBill
But bitch ain’t no Halle or no Whitfield
Lynn that is then yo bitch better learn the value of a kids meal
Mook I rally in the big bills, right
Cuz if I feel slim on Benjamins faggot
We gon do it like the pilgrims and Indians
You thought 50 had Many Men
Nigga you’ll get jumped, heaped and thrown in a trunk
Like Harry and the Hendersons
The beats get played, I throw fire on it
Heat get blazed, his CD plays and gets dissed like CD trays
See if babe shape don’t look right
But I get head so much she gotta look up
So I remember what her face look like
You can’t take and push white, if the weight don’t cook right
It ain’t bout this money, then Mook why we even conversating?
Good night

[Round 3: Murda Mook]

Niggas schooled me as a youth, I was fit for the booth
Everybody on the block wanted to listen to Mook like, wooo!
This kid is the truth how he spitting this loose?
I can’t wait til his shit drop like it was shit drop
Like it was shit on the coupe
Y’all spit fiction, you aint never pump on the strip
Shit you might’ve had pumps on the strip, you a bitch
And you ain’t move a brick since head start, go ahead talk
Be the next nigga the feds chalk from lead spark
You on the block where meds parked in front of ya crib
And ya moms all crying out of her wig
This lame nigga ain’t worth it, if I ain’t it
Shit I’m the closest one to perfect
I ain’t doing it on purpose, we ain’t the same
You playing Sean, I’m Curtis, you frontin
I’m stuntin and its getting niggas nervous
I got the morphine to feed this cock sucker, I’m the champ
I got the belt, this hot peas and butter
And I can’t let any motherfucker try to run up and snatch it
I got the ratchet like Jason and a hatchet
Should I coupe it or should I hatch it? Or should I Maybach it?
Or come up with a crazy car called the strait jacket?
Y’all don’t really wanna beef
You don’t really want ya peeps laying on somebody beach
Identified by they teeth, ease up or feel more heat than 20 perms
Half ya hammers don’t exist like missing curves
Any herbs wanna taste what the semi serve?
I got plenty nerve to crush y’all cats like sticky urb
I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with ya man
But Tah you better get him, ‘for niggas singing that song for ya man
Y’all don’t want the reverend reading out them psalms for ya man
About how god opening up them palms for ya man
So man run around talking bout ya ass hot
I know you heard what happened to the last pop
You ass oc, in a war you wouldn’t blast shots
He cake batter, he’ll shatter like when glass drop
This fag want cocks to run up in his rear, I bet it’s leotards under his gear
But he swear he a nightmare, thinking ill be frightened, quit it
Pop admit it, we all know you wouldn’t fight a ticket
I wouldn’t even wanna pipe ya bitches, I’m getting type suspicious
Cuz ya bitch is looking like ya niggas
The GM, I’m ahead of the coaches
Murda got the game wrapped like it ain’t never was opened
I imagine you still in the shine while I’m here
You gotta better chance stealing a shine from Times Square
My flows ahead of your flow two times squared
My doughs ahead of ya dough, you sign where?
He don’t got a career, he look like he starving
Like you ain’t got a dollar to spare
I’m hotter than yeah, every motherfucker in the game
Sick flow I got it bad I’m Usher in the rain
And I keep my hands on one of them thangs, so watch ya words duke
Or get a word to in front of ya name
This is Murda Mook the Pacman, I got the gat man
That’ll show ya insides like a catscan
I got my guns drawn I’m ready for action
I’m Smith and Wes Craven, but I ain’t acting
This is uncut raw coke for you, if you ready to die I can tell ya folks for you
If you outta this world we got telescopes for you
This is easy, ya niggas better hope for you

[Round 3: Loaded Lux]

Still this shit mean with sixteen shells in the clip and one in the gat head
With the scope on it so the shit got more courage than Shaq bed
I’m a do the smoking but he’ll have the crackhead
The cat said he caking up, I caught him in the bakery truck
That’s what you mean? You stack bread?
Lux is who the artist is, I’m like a big train
I’m sick boy, I spit more than a bus load of retarded kids
He started it, but now he look lobster, with the shook posture
I bared the tool he was scared to move
I thought he bought his shoes from foot locker
What’s not to respect? You think I’m Iced Tea sweet?
Nah he the type that creep
You think it’s a game right?
Well you’ll be looking from the floor like Spike Lee’s seat
And that shit you got weak, what you trying to save grams?
He couldn’t sell that rock to a caveman
He said he sent his shit to Switzerland to get fixed
Why you lying Mook man?
You had a fossil watch, and that was at the museum
Aww man, should I end it yet? No wait I got time
His moms ain’t finished cooking dinner yet
I been a threat since a lil dude, he don’t wanna keep it lyrical
Cuz right now he look mad like he wanna get physical
Nah don’t do that, they’ll have to visit you

[Round 4: Murda Mook]

We was here long enough now it’s time to let ya spirit loose
We gave you a chance to try and pull ya lil miracle
You can try and mirror Mook all that you please
What’s coming out my mouth sick like I got an oral disease
To take a trip down my strip I gotta order you skeeze
A buffet for the wrist and neck so it can freeze
Jigga told you about the raw report, so he involve the courts
Thinking he meant when you get raw, report
It don’t cost shit to let the fifth dissolve ya thoughts
I’ll send you off to god for shorts, I’m not playing
Who you frightening with this loud shit pops? You do not weigh it
Like an empty air freshener can, you not spraying
And hell yeah I had his wife, she was always glad as night
To ride the midnight train to come and get this magic pipe
It’s aight, it’s like he a martyr for the street, I’m an Archer with the peace
But I aint gotta pull no strings back
The thing clapping and blat! The target is deceased
Wanna beef when these clowns is amongst ya
Then all the trash talking leave him found in a dumpster
He hot on the block, but to the town he a buster
He offered ante to the label cuz none of em want ya
And ya man don’t gotta say what kinda Bentleys you whipping
Cuz we know you run with liars you like Jimney cricket
Ask them cats you with if you wanna make me the one
I don’t gotta clap you, you’ll die once you see the gun
Make his head hot like when a fever come
Ox or glock pop, either one will still send you to Kingdom Come
How I explain the wrist? Umm.. you ever seen the sun?
He staring at it like it’s the first day they seen their son
Yeah he got the main flow, I hope you nigga know
I’m the world’s number one supplier; I hit Cola with the coke
I got the fiends tied to it like I sold it with a rope
Sell to everybody see the pope nodding to my dope
Nope, you not a contender, you not in my league
Look pop, you hot as December you probably will freeze
Run back in ya mommy placenta, you not gonna squeeze
I’m on the block where the center’s getting dimes from them P’s
While I was out on them keys getting right with these real dykes
You was letting niggas throw a banana in ya tail pipe
And he like dice, I reveal the hammer a lil bit
Get his clique clacked get down on the floor like Banner and Lil Flip

[Round 4: Loaded Lux]

Y’all already know the cat bought em street felt
Rap til the beat smelt he on shelf
Mook ain’t been strapped since his seatbelt
Nigga you in a state of hunger
Faggot you ain’t had a hot line since they started 1800 numbers
This rap shit, dog, on every station
That’s why I’m sick with it, Mook’s school aint give me all that medication
So I got board of education, I started getting money off the book
Like the board of education
Ya prize, you better safe guard it
I’m nice I told Mook he couldn’t fuck with me
But he wanna catch rape charges
Label send this nigga to me the way I break artist
You ain’t hot you scotch
In other words, ya tape garbage
I don’t wanna talk man I’m torching this nigga
My heater like his beeper, going off on this nigga
He won’t get the grub, get ya soldiers
I’m quick to roll up with the toasters
You’ll get ya shit clipped like ticket holders
What you know about flashing toast in assassin coats?
You’ll get wrapped with ropes and you’ll feel nothing like caspers ghost
Half the jokes and ya death shaky that’s crazy
Cuz I felt realer pounds on a fat baby, I bust my gat lazy
I let the bullets do the work, my pitbull up in her skirt
The shit pull up in her purse quick
Leave the crimes for the crooks out ya rhymes and ya hooks
You’ll never see a rap tour (Raptor) except in a dinosaur book
If I don’t drive I get pushed, I get my walk on barely
I never been to TRL but I’m in a car, son, daily (Carson Daly)
Now what y’all gon tell me? Like this idiot experienced
I’m seeing a lot of Jamie Kennedy Experiments
Mook wanna make up artist
I could of swore before Mook got the deal he was the makeup artist
I break up y’all shit, like Nas if he catch Jacob jogging
Stop ya run nigga, pop my gun nigga it’s serious Mook

[Round 5: Murda Mook]

Ayo I seen a lot of dumb niggas in my lifetime
But you epitomize the motherfucker running outta life lines
In the day I’m usually asleep, if I catch him in the night time
You’ll hear he got left for talking out his right mind
You trying to get signed? You’ll settle for labels pimping you
As long as you getting gear and keeping you with a bitch or two
Meanwhile you check ya checks, they ain’t giving a cent to you
I smell pussy, I know he giving off that scent to you
Killing is a sport, you hungry to be a corpse?
I got a tray full of lead that I can serve you in bed
And what about ya bread? What shine you wear
Ya ice like Christmas lights, they seen one time a year
I’m not a cool guy, I let shots from the tool fly
And lift ya spirit in the air if you think you too fly
But if you do try, you know me
Just know that gun closer than (?) and cold cheese
He the type to get a threat and go reach the police
Not me I’m a mammal, how could I like snakes?
Give em a pen, tell em to spell friend, I bet you that he spell Jakes
Ever since a baby, had a sense for the gravy
My sis had to pay me just to sit by the AC
Fuck you think I’m crazy? I got emph’s on them 80’s
And big shits that you’ll think was shipped from the navy
I move bricks but I mainly get my dough off weed
So fuck what you heard, my money do grow on trees
I got a disease, I can’t let go of the steel nine
I’m so thirsty for a murder, I’m trying to kill time
Other hand I still grind, get rid of them big shipments
Murda Mook, I done flipped more keys than an ignition
Listen all that glistening in my hood get rid of it
We’ll take you out them chains we like slave abolitionist
My gun gon squeeze till ya lungs won’t breathe
He got a cold, so don’t let the snub nose sneeze, at chu (you)

[Round 5: Loaded Lux]

Look man, we all know Mook wouldn’t rob shit
Hard dick the only way he stick up
My AR lift up, anything radar pick up
I’m the beast with the crowded clique
We deep and we pile the strip trust me
You ain’t want beef like cows is sick
My game polished chump, even if you brollic punk
It’s nothing I get this shit jumping like hydraulic pumps
Bring it to you how you want, hollow’s dump
He’ll front but where he live will be the first building hit like Tower one
See how the hours come fast when it’s time to rest
Go buy a vest, cuz I don’t really think you got an iron chest
But you’ll get a head full, same guns the feds pull
When it let loose it got boost like redbull
I’m in the spot where the women be wasted
Sake up and can’t find where their memory’s station
But the bitch know I’m spending some faces
She think I’m a lawyer the way the bartender keep sending me cases

[Round 6: Murda Mook]

You a fool if you think I wouldn’t air my steel
It’s like he got a weave becuase this nigga here (hair) is not real
He the type to squeal if he confronted a judge
Be on the stand shaking his hand like “that’s who it was”
Niggas need to get tossed in the light, cuz everybody know
Rats is the rodent that mostly everybody hate
When you in the station helping cops sketch my face
I’ll be in the station bout to cop and stretch my weight
Stretch before you hit them weights young man you might hurt yourself
And my waste always strapped like a girder belt
I pop ya vertebrae, leave you in the worsts way
Put you in a 24 hour care of a nurses aid
Murder me? You gon need more than a pistol, no nines no glocks
Better order some missles cuz you beefing with army and ya boy is official
That won’t mean shit once the coroner get you
I’m still a young pimp, the hoes say my grin turn em on
That’s why I got em hoeing from the night until it turn to the morn’
They all excited running up like “Mook I heard ya songs”
Aight I’ll get back write ya number on ya thong
My pockets like a bong, packed full of green
I decided on the Marce’ tho the Aston was mean
I’m a lil bit picky when I’m coppin a ride
I cop it for show really, I don’t cop em to drive
I ain’t wanna push the 6 push a lot in the 5
And my jeeps look like fucking helicopters inside
I see ya eye on my jewels when I post on the avenue
The irons my tool, get too close and I’m clapping you
I’m frying a fool if he boast with an attitude
You can die in a pool or you can show me some gratitude
What I’m a have to do is far worse than sneaking in ya moms purse
He up with his two feet on the wrong turf
Bomb first like Makaveli, you don’t even gotta tell me
For the cheddy I’ll ox ya belly, and I’ll pop a felly
I’ll be the first to cock the dessie and put it in his mouth like ock and nelly
Whatchu want from me? I’m 18 sitting on trump money
Ya bank accounts my lil brothers lunch money
With the shotty I’m like a nigga with no more grams I pump dummies
I don’t think you getting the fucking hunch dummy, scram
The man that I am is not what you wonder
Mook is roofless like a drop in the summer
I’ll cock and then dump on one of you cocksuckers, y’all cannot touch is
We spot rushers, with toast I’m serving that hot butter
I move E like block buster, try not to let the block bust us
I’m keeping a tool to pull, shut the fuck up kid is (?)
The way we’re wolves you be thinking the moon is full
Ain’t nothing I see fucking with me, owe me money? Well
Woop, then ya seeds coming with me
And the crib got something to squeeze tucked in my jeans
Act up it ain’t nothing to be under some leaves
Look, he wanna be a hero, for the bread and the cheese
We’ll roast the beef, hit em with hot peppers, and slice his onion
So please, don’t let us (lettuce)
While y’all play catch up, I take ten steps up
You taking two, it don’t add up, do it
You see the X cake up, take bite eat the rest later
I petal more than BMX racers, chase us
The crack is hard the can is soft, you pedaling too, but ya chain is off

[Round 6: Loaded Lux]

Y’all acting like the judge lending out appeals
Niggas is bitchin up now, from Timbs now they out on heels
They watching calls now so I be renting out my wheels
Case a pick off, switch more than 20 dollar bills
Roley presi shit, bezzie lit dessie grip he said some shit
Mook will get popped and he’ll drop like pregnant chicks
Feds equipment half the shipments we hitting narcs orders
I’m on the set with the wet that ain’t deer park water
So yeah y’all outta heard of me, the realist flip
I sell that whip like dealerships and still I get
Stories you telling, you left me floored from the pellets
I can’t get wet nigga the vest is like water repellent
Chicks, I got to pay them G’s, the bitch you pop a sleez
The sliding bone you find them homes like adoption agencies
Ya block a flop with make believes, cops and swats and raids ya teams
Well not some stock paper please, drop the top with A M G’s
The way they be’s, flocking thru my home
Mook don’t get mad you call ya bitch on my flip
And her name pop up on the phone
Same top is on the chrome, base it
Burner muffled it ain’t ya turn to shuffle
Well Mook you couldn’t deal with the Ace’s
Aye and he don’t want beef I could tell
My clique like slut pussy, all we do is run deep
This nigga dumb sweet, and I’ll turn any block you on into 21 jump street
Yo you’ll get jumped b, and that’s just how I feel
Got the strip straight lift weight like I body build
And I don’t know how he chill, this nigga pockets is like prepaid phones
That nigga ain’t got a bill
You ain’t thugged out ya clique got a lot of liars
You ain’t dubbed out ya whip got a lot of tire
And I’m snubbed out the fifth got a lot of fire
And I’m bugged out like a snitch with a lot of wires
I’m still thinking how Hammer went pop, but when he got broke I’m like
Damn Hammer went pop
Now that’s the type of shit that make hammers go pop
If bullets was footage, this nigga throwing cameo shots
My people will shoot, it’s like the sequel to roots
You get shots from ya top till it reach to ya roots
These niggas think it’s peaches, that’s where the gat is drawn
You’ll get ya gallop on nigga like the (?)

[Round 7: Murda Mook]

Don’t consider me a youngster
Cuz I done spit amongst the top competition
Ya not competition, listen, I was in ciphers with supposedly the nicest
Trust me, it wasn’t nothing to be overly excited
I spit til my belly ache, my rhyme schemes make fellas wait
When I rhyme it’s like a crime scene, ayo Rob take out that yellow tape
I push weight, I done seen my share of several cakes
So raw fiends told me it made them see the devils face
I nicknamed her devil face, I piped his wife the first night
The bitch screamed so loud she made my fucking watch bezzle break
Take a break, my time to shine is now
I’m a hustler, I grind from dimes to pounds
You wanna floss in my hood? Oh you good till the swammies squeeze
It make you take ya ice off I call em anti freeze
Yeah, with me I’m an ante on my freeze
With a bitch that go from wood up, till her standing with her knees
And the whips make a nigga say…
The industry is funny, they love you when ya money’s stuck
But when ya cake is baking they jumping and try to fuck it up
That’s why I keep something tuck for every little part I hear
I got the life in ya brain if you try to get a smart idea
Listen here, Mook the reason why you rappers missing hair
Yeah I hear em whispering like “why he bring his business here?”
Cuz I’m on a brilliant mission, try to stack so much stacks that by the time
I’m finished eating I’m a have a million dishes
Chill with ya wishes, it ain’t ever gonna stop
Ya broad she ain’t ever gonna get off my cock
Except that piece
Accept the fact that she gotta look at my poster
Every night so she can go to sleep
He a martese? His dogs ain’t attracted to beef
Cease before something happen to you, alright talk like you packing a few
And I’m attaching a piece that when it shoot
Make a sound of a “pew pew”
Ain’t as tough as you think you are
Dog, you been fucking with them drinks too hard
Lay off, or we could do one better have a spray off
Let eight off, you lookin at the black Adolf
I bake and scrape cake off plates that I ate off
When I shoot you off my dick stay off ok boss
And rappers talking like he hotter than the bunch
Turn around his album flopping more than Vlade in the clutch
This industry is killing me, security, security
Who wants to approach you? Nobody knows you
All of y’all bitches he just want some attention
He want the people to see em try to ask who he is
Sell records mafucka make a name for yourself
Stop using ya bodyguards for help
I ain’t gotta be convinced, it’s always my intentions to blast
You talking shit I glue ya lips to ya ass
I know I aint’ the only one that’s walking round with clips and a mag
He probably got a arm too but his shit’s in a cast
I used to have problems trying to get them bricks in the past
Then I grabbed jiggaboo from Peru, she got them shipments thru
Like I met the new kid on the block, you talk shells?
Well I got a few hid and a glock
I cock, make it sound like Whoo Kid in the spot
Kill everybody I don’t care who kid in the spot
Do a bid in the box? Not I’m claustrophobic
It’s against my religion I can’t get closed in with the roc
I run a motion, pass and cut to the hoop
I get the fiends open ready to shoot
Shoot! He done done it again
He done come around fronting in a new 600 again
I keep telling you, it’s nothing to spend
He was probably the lil nigga on the trip that ain’t have nothing to spend
Fabricating stories about his blends and his cuts when, what?
Only green he’s probably seen’’s in a dutch
You never had much so for a range or a ‘pala
He be like four quarters cuz he’ll change for a dollar

[Round 7: Loaded Lux]

Ya boy couldn’t walk in my footsteps, he wouldn’t have a foot left
All these years running this shit and I never took breaths
Mook was shook to death nigga, I shook death
Plus I kept paper, Nikes ain’t the only place where they put checks
Rappers are all game but not for the long range
I got to get paid before I get played like Lebron James
This nigga’s songs lame, beats that he rap to ain’t tight,
Mookie I can’t see the picture if the tracking ain’t right
Don’t care if I’m in a block full of cane or locked in some chains
Wherever I’m at they gon know I’m in the spot like ya stains
From my socks to my frame nigga watch to the chain
And you couldn’t look fly if you dropped from a plane
Me popped outta change, nigga pop gotta change nigga
Loaded Lux getting paper, hate the game not the player nigga
I’m from Harlem where we money make, every hour moving powder
That’s what I call getting funnel cake
And his girl got a ass that she wanna shake
So I’m a fill it up with more pipes than a tunnel take
My gun will break loose if he run away he running late
This ya tryout how many shots you really wanna take?
He don’t like Load, he wanna catch me in bed wet me with lead
Murder me in it, have me down at the emergency clinic
I’m a kick in doors and buck rounds from this Ruger
He try to exit out his windows
He was better off shutting down his computer
Lux now he a shooter, guns is better
When the nine load mook ain’t gotta die older
But he’ll stay young forever
He like peter pan in never never land
My butter’s like peter pan is sticking very tan
My block get plain I’m docking planes, hitting every land
I sat near more jet fans than in the meadowlands
That’s why all his hoes flocking in groups and they friends want me
Only time Mooks knocking her boots is when his timbs dusty
He lying to them hoochies, only time I throw a G in they face
Is if she wanna see the time on the Gucci
Yeah I shine with some rubies, you could eyeball and screw me
Really b, you killing me? That’s like dying in the movies
Close you been to a burner is when ya deli by the griddle
Nigga all ya biscuits got jelly in the middle
I know y’all like the way I’m talking I got (?)
Yo whole clique will get the dipping like a tortilla party
Don’t start with me

[Round 8: Murda Mook]

I just got in the game, all ready these guys is cock holding
Probably cuz I’m in a G5 with rocks buldging
Ya girl saw me she tried to stop scoping
And then her button on her levi’s was popped open
I’m not joking
Every club I’m posting I leave a token with a love deep throating
Ya wrist worth 20, neck worth 60, whole industry try to network with me
16 108’s cost 50, take it or leave it, my patience is seasoned
I’m a drop an album every change in the season
Provoke me, all I need is a flame and a reason
My fanbase leaning, you know what it do
When the others hear its raw they wanna cop one too
Pop you got a gun, I got one too
It’s just ya slugs chip concrete, mines can pop one thru
I leave a nigga jail bed stiff, and bury him with his weight bench
So he really could dead lift
I’m not one of them friends you play with
Fuck feathers I got a tech in my coat for insulation
Yeah I rap, play ball, got a scholarship to go to school
Stack 8 balls, but nothing that gotta do with pool
I put ya lights out faster than ya Con Ed
I take a C4 strap it to ya moms bed
Ya girl mad at you nothing to do with what John said
She ain’t say ya dick was small, she said you had long legs
It’s so much drama in this industry it’s kinda hard being M U R D A
It’s on my ass cuz everything I say always seems to get in they way
Yeah, okay, I’m a still say my shit, push my whips
I got a 7 so quick, I nicknamed it Vick
The strip, please, I complete the fiends they call me Clive
Ya boy got at least a key, I’m a P I M P
Give a chip to a chick, never me not ya dog, it’s not in my pedigree
But him? Please, just so she could go browsing
He do like the soap, probably leave her two thousand
I see ya two thousand, Mook is a star, yo dude
Those ain’t shoes, those boots on ya car
Wanna talk where I live? The shit too big
Every day I find another room inside my crib

[Round 8: Loaded Lux]

I got my cash straight, that shit moving like a drag race
I hit chicks with the bad shapes, yo bitch is in bad shape
How you have dates with bitches with that face?
Nah Mook, you fucking bitches Shaq weight
You lack cake cuz you might as well sell jokes
With that David Chappelle coke that shit you got is Half Baked
It’s no wonder that’s ya husband, I wouldn’t trust her judgment
I saw what she did with her mouth, I know she got bad taste
That shit you poppin’ money, get ya face looking like Hockey ice
Sliced up, plus we pack like Jockey tights
Beans ain’t got nothing on the way ya girl Roc the mic
Thirsty, she keep hollering at me like she Bobby Knight
This nigga not as nice and say we a lot alike
Mook, you insulting me young’n don’t even talk to me
Walk with me this is a sparr for me,
Cuz when the label press units, trust me sell I’ll just do it
Bottom line, every line from top to bottom line
Hot and I ain’t gotta sign the boy about dollar signs
This nigga broke, young’n you ain’t gotta dime or bitches
Mook like I said you ain’t got a dime
You outta line today, we bought watches outta town you know
Spent a lil time away
This nigga hating, chill let me take my mind off it
Cuz ya neck, I don’t wanna take ya mind off it
I caught him in the spot and the can jammed on him
What made it even worse, how his man’s ran on him
Scrammed on him, I ain’t even put hands on him
My guns sound like they got hands on him
We sold (?) you got ya stroll on, family like Manny I got my roll on
But Mook keep talking I’m like, why y’all amped?
We all about ballin’ like 5 star camps
But we don’t play games no whistles or refs near

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

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