Murda Mook vs. Jae Millz [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Murda Mook]
You a phony homie it’s time you get executed
Somebody tried and failed and I’m a be the best to do it
And best believe I ain’t taking an L
I’m a treat ‘em like a turtle put his face in a shell
You ain’t taking it well that’s what you get for talking, it’s my fault
I should’ve paid for his mom’s abortion, that’s a no-no
Lesson in life; don’t owe dough
And on the low though, it may stand for most homo
He got a lil deal but his bread can’t hurt me
I remember you and Charlie used to share Jersey’s
Now you talk gangsta, but partner’s lying
Ain’t you the nigga used to get smacked in art and design?
Lil fat faggot nigga running around trying to rhyme
One of them niggas that got sent to the store from time to time
I been in this shit I’m labeled as a menace to the game
Every second flipping a brick addicted to the ‘caine
Don’t talk about ya rims and how they spinning on ya range
Cuz when you stop only thing still spinning is ya waves
And you know Mook pops off
I nicknamed my gun can opener Mills, it’ll take ya top off
Now look at him sick
I know he bout to hurl but let’s get a lil more personal
I know about his girl, he got a wife named Cether
Everybody skeets her all I had to get her was cab fair and a pizza
But you cuffs the bitch you won’t ever leave her
She a dog off the chain Mills you better leash her
Might see me court side, Rucker game beast up
Try run up on me, just know I be pieced up
I never let you take shit when the tray spit
It’ll leave him unidentified like a spaceship
He the type to take 8 nicks and say his weight flipped
I’m the type that use St. Nick for my bay strip
Imaging me dying of Millz
We got a better chance of seeing Jay-Z resigning Amil
I’m what’s real, run up on you dump them 3’s
You a pussy it’s that time of the month to bleed
Don’t worry about me, don’t ask me my business
Where was you when you crew got they ass beat on Lenox?
All I know is Vado got hit by some guy, yo
The shit sounded like he got hit by a Tahoe
Everything after all I seen was his eyes closed
But it could’ve been my fault he was probably high tho

[Round 1: Jae Millz]

Lil nigga don’t get it fucked up this ain’t making the band
Fuck $5,000 you’ll get scraped for a grand
And after this I ain’t gon hate on ya man
I’m a just cop a ring and walk around with his cake on my hand
You is a fronter talking bout you’s a stunna
You ain’t a gunna we all know you’s a runner
I’m my own man, my name is what them checks under
Nigga I can pay ya family’s rent til next summer
Can’t no nigga you know disrespect my rep
I put up my own 5 like I set the bet
I’ll let 5 wreck ya neck, live on MTV so you could get the Direct Effect
Fuck spitting on a beat I throw a clip in the heat
Spray off and give you a couple of hits from the street
Homes you ain’t got the heart to be trife
You ain’t a gangsta, you’s a delta that live a sorority life
Listen this is an X factor I don’t bother with hype
I’m a street legend, faggot, you should honor me twice
I ain’t the one you should hype
I run up on you while you rocking that bum ass shirt
Then put the pump to ya stripes aight
Fuck it I might put the pump to ya wife
Like, “ma you choose you either drink cum or ya life”
Think I’m slipping? Not at all my nigga
I’m a motherfucking animal you should’ve stuck to ball my nigga
I ain’t a joke, stupid, my flow will give you flesh wounds
Yeah I’m for real (Pharrell) but no, I ain’t the neptunes
I’m the vet whom we’ll put the Wes to him
And make it clap til ain’t a damn thing left to him
I bring death to em
Make hollows jump out the barrel and stretch thru em
I’ll put a X to em this nigga dead somebody bring the EMS to em
This nigga ain’t even aight how you bringing the best to him?
You serious?

[Round 2: Murda Mook]

Niggas is hoppin’ on that silly shit, I leave they face leaking
Once they head get the same treatment that a Philly get
Y’all niggas kill me, shit with all that ol’ kill me shit
He probably got a millie, question really will he spit
Thank god he ain’t ever had his hands on it
Cuz in beef his guns play Carter and then they jam on it
He don’t fuck with hoes, I know son a ‘mo
That’s why he down with the record label ‘wanna blow’
Y’all niggas softer than baby shit, you crazy prick
If you think that I ain’t got 80 kids that a (?) cribs
I spray clips but I’m way past throwing hollow’s
My gun shoot slugs the size of corona bottles
Ol’ boy we’ll make making the band gas you, you ain’t a rapper
You should try making a sand castle
You don’t know with this 8 in my hand I got ya fate in my hand
And I could be making ya man clap you?
You don’t want me put in the damn order
To take ya bitch, rape the bitch
Taped her shit and make you hold the camcorder
You the hottest out? Please Jae
He lost to a nigga that walked to Brooklyn for cheesecake
It was a meat stake he try to fuck with me
I’m born on Friday the 13th, ain’t no luck with me
Dog talk how he spray those things
When ya gun shoot blank man, he should call it Damon Wayans
He the type that’s not known to kill, but always wanna hold the steel
I roll up on him, he like ….. cuz he know the drill
I would never replace you in my shoes
Look at his face, I got snakes cuter than you
He probably got a jump shot in a rear wheel mix
But when I’m finished with him
He gon have to try out for the wheelchair knicks
Why they come make me rap against you?
This shit as easy as Shaq trying to snap a pencil
Ain’t no effort involved, think twice before stepping to John
Cuz I got a bomb that’ll make niggas skip from 41st to 43rd cuz 42nd is gone
And you wrong if he talking bout how his flow is so rare
His career is on a treadmill, yeah he getting run
But he ain’t going nowhere
So the next time you talk how you hold that four
How you gon run up on the kid take my throwback off
How you gon see me in the streets, take all my raw
I’m a blow ya brain in ya hands and tell you hold that thought
Easy man

[Round 2: Jae Millz]

It must be cuz of hot 9’ or cuz he see my face on TV now
Got this ugly ass nigga thinking I’m sweet now
Like I won’t run up on him and have him hearing more cocking
And popping than a Whoo Kid freestyle
Listen I’m a street child
That’ll spit in ya face and put 21 on ya chest like D. Miles
You’s a lil nigga who you gonna beat down?
You choir boy you can’t even tear a beat down
You ain’t gotta say I’m hot, so what? fuck you!
Nigga I get respect from the rappers you look up to
Plus no one love you
So even when I die you stand under my grave I’m a still be above you
Half of me is like Millz he can’t touch you
But the other half is like fuck it he trying to crush you
And I work to hard to climb the charts and fall
To a nigga named John Archibald?
Dog coming at Millz that’s not smart at all
Battling Millz that’s like playing ball at the park in fall
It’s embarrassing how the flow is just passing him
He dreaming and imagine him, Roscoe starting to laugh at him
This shit a disgrace be for real I’m cooking him straight
This nigga sick now, look at his face! Wait
The grave six feet but I’m digging it deeper
I’m starting to Takeover and giving him Ether
Them things stay on my homeboys hip like a beeper
He couldn’t walk in my shoes, nor live in my sneakers
What the fuck is a Murda Mook? You murdering who?
Nigga you’s trash you can’t even murder the booth
What’s the last gun you clutch? Last gun you bust?
Matter of fact bitch name the last gun you touched
I mean if you wanna be serious
We all know you ain’t living out what you spitting out
Point blank, period
All that bullshit you talking? I ain’t hearing it
You ain’t gotta tell me bout ya deal cuz I’m wearing it

[Round 3: Murda Mook]

Aye man didn’t I tell you to stop talking?
Now ya frame gonna be the one that the cops chalking
Fuck cars, you can catch me at a glock auction
Don’t call me Mook, call me 22 shots walking
How you doing homie? Nice to meet you Jarvis
Everybody in attendance, let’s get this started
He the nicest? I can tell this kid’s retarded
Throw him in a psychiatric ward, get his head straight
And get off my dick, I can’t afford your dead weight
You go against me? You’d rather fight a fed case
My school used to always say I was a head case
I was the only 5th grader blowing L’s
And from how I used to always bring guns to show and tell
He’ll bring a box with some things that he fix
I’ll bring a glock with some things in the clip
Go ahead, turn ya back if you like
Cuz thru the grapevine Millz, I heard that’s how you ask for the pipe
Don’t get trapped in the hype homeboy, you ain’t real
I don’t wanna hear no mess about how you spray steel
Cuz in the pen I heard they told you to stay still
Twenty niggas in the shower ready to J Millz

[Round 3: Jae Millz]

I just wanna walk with you, I don’t wanna battle I just wanna talk to you
How you feel about me? Yo I think I’m really hot
When I rhyme ya bitch grab her puss and diddy bop
She put her skully down
And if you ain’t like the burner we might cut a nigga
Or you might just get jumped by a couple niggas
I get my niggas hype enough they wanna buck a nigga
And you’s a bitch you the type that wanna fuck a nigga
See you’s a sucka nigga, the type to run ya track get ya face slapped
And yell “watch when I come back”
You small in these streets like a thumbtack
Thinking you thug cuz you got some beads, a bandana and one tat
I aint no gangsta, I’m just Millz homie
Same cats I grew up with, yeah, we still homies
And made, yeah we still side by siding, riding
And whenever it’s war we never hiding
I’m still on the strip from sun up to sun down
Till the sun come back up, go ahead act up
Have him like a running back, running back
To his block with bruises on his front and back
And he don’t really want none of that, so listen bro you slippin’ yo
Come on I ain’t trying to stick ya hoe
Look I done been up in ya girl pussy, I knew Puff and I knew Mason
Still thru the hating, I’m still MH’ing
So let me know something yo, you can’t change my living
To them like Tyson’s ex, we robbin’ (Robin) you given (Givens)
Cuz you an actress, talking bout you sold weight
Nigga only thing white you know is Colgate
But now for like the same three summers it’s the same three numbers
Until the end I’m a rep straight MH and Warner
I know niggas be pissed when I come thru
Bumping my shit blowing wild chocolate blowing haze out the sunroofs
So don’t try to front duke

[Round 4: Murda Mook]

Ya lame lines ain’t amusing duke, I heard harder shit in a musical
And I’m murder proof, you can never murder Mook
Nickname me Ray (?) if he wanna talk abuse, talk his bitch off the roof
You a lame solider, you the same solider
Ya face get rained over, you know I’m still the same
Still slang the same coca and for the right price I slain ya man over
You know you ain’t really hard, you just a bitch with a titty job
Murder Mook will gun up on ya Michigan state, put six in ya face
You know Murda Mook spit harder than most
He got a dirty mouth I let him gargle the toast
He see the spark and the smoke
He foolish if he think he dodging them both
I target his scope, his brain will be a part of the coast
I market the coke, you need work? You’ll be catered
Dog, I move more raw than a sushi waiter
From New York to Georgia all thru (?)
I’m his bosses boss, man I do him favors
Got shoes and they usually gator, got tools usually something I can use
Introduce ya maker, put clips in ya frame, I’m a movie maker
Got chicks for some change, you a groupie chaser
Dudes is haters, mad cuz I’m me
Mad cuz what I call bad moving half of a key
Pack two guns and that’s when I’m sleep
The bottom line I’m getting kinda tired so you bastards should flee
Why should I chit chat? I’m a boss I don’t get that
I’m a spit caps at ya six pack and watch ya ribs crack
Take advice get back, you don’t really wanna die
He can’t blossom out his bag, he ain’t a fucking butterfly
I know how to make the butter fly, you cop once, you cop twice
You got 10 I got white, I got grams I got sliced
Wanna cop from me? Wait a minute I got you b
I hold the roc well that’s why I feel like someone watching me
Why niggas talk songs with trashy hooks?
Why would I wanna be in his shoes? He got athletes foot
I done did more than half these crooks
I keep telling these fags, it’s a difference between facts and book

[Round 4: Jae Millz]

As far as ya breath go you wasting it
Cuz you trash plus you suck so face it stupid
You not making it, please what is you saying bitch
I got rhymes from ’96 that’s hotter than half of ya latest shit
I’m a beast nigga I will depart you
Matter fact why argue? Nigga who are you?
Oh I get it you just wanna get a lil fame so you could get a lil name
And probably get up in the game
I got fans fam, and I’m talking a good amount
And Mook well relatives and friends in ya hood don’t count
I’m a star in cities and states you never even seen nigga
The fuck you mean nigga? Come on, I’m mean nigga
And if I tell you I’m a smack the shit out you
That’s exactly what I mean nigga
Look I don’t just rap it faggot I’m living it
And you? Just talk about the jungle, but I live in it
This shit is like a sport and this soccer nigga is kicking it
But my niggas is ballin, shootin it out, niggas is riding thru couping it out
All flossy and shit with his bitch and his jewelry out
But I’m trying to go from a stoop to a house
So you dumb niggas tell me why you think that the tools is out
I’m comfortable why you think that my jewels is out
You’s a lil nigga somebody look the fool is out
Listen, homie I live this I don’t just talk it
And a ticket of embarrassment yo ass is boarded
Fuck shopping demos dog don’t force it
Want a deal lil man? Come with me I’ll walk you into an office
I show you how to make these bosses, pass you offers
Houses and shit and classy Porsche’s
You aint ever had Sean Combs shaking ya hand
Like damn you are the man, dude understand
You are not a rapper you are a fan
You probably got ya Best of Millz mad cipher tape
I’m a veteran fool you stepping to who
I’m like Godzilla you Peppe Le Peu
You better than who? It’s time we medal the score
You just mad cuz downtown my name get mentioned more than yours
Only bitch niggas talk like whores
Homeboy you false, you don’t got what it cost to ball
So you wanna sport the Jacob but ya dough aint there yet
And you wanna be the kid but ya flow ain’t there yet
I know you wanna see me fail, but I’m NBA’in it
John you still P.A.L., I’m sick with an unfriendly speech
Freddy ain’t got nothing on me, nigga I’m a nightmare on any street
Mellow or dark I’m a nightmare on any street, I’ll embarrass any geek
Prick I got plenty heat, rarely talk I just let my grants and Benji’s speak
And in a year I’m a let my Rolls and Benzy’s speak

[Round 5: Murda Mook]

Relax homie you don’t want no drama
Talking silly, I can see you don’t like yo momma
So I’m a run up in ya crib, snatch her and the kid
And leave him in a cage starving with ya man Osama
You the hardest nigga spitting and shit, he’ll approach with a toast
Dickhead ain’t have a clip in his shit
So I pulled out the clip and the fifth and he tried to split
Second rookie mistake, I had an emph on the shit
So I started spitting the shit and he was dodging, flipping and shit
Behind cars in the windows and shit
And I compare life to a scarface movie, you right
I just skip to the end of the shit
Listen here, it’s a Reyonld’s wrap, cuz I spit rapid heat
That’ll fill ya cavity like a dental cap
You big bitch, when you was an infant his first words was probably
“Yo mama, where the menu at?”
You want war? I’ll give it to you. First hand, one, two extra heaters
Just in case the first jam, don’t try to step to me
Now you know I squirt cans
Make sure you rest in peace I bring it to ya church fam
I got too many heats to blow, (?) a homo I got chiefs to blow
Don’t talk about squeezing fours
Cuz I’ll have his face with more red shit than pizza dough
Nigga, no-no-noooo, you don’t wanna see this fo-fo blow
You the type to trick all yo dough, call em over but ya hoes don’t show
And look at this, you got a lil something on ya wrist
But listen up when I tell you that the story got a twist
When something go wrong, he coming to two fif
My watch get shipped to Switzerland to get fixed
And you talk about a brick, which cracks you jumping?
Callin (?) the only time he ask for Papi
I remember the nigga was fat and sloppy
Running around harlem trying to say his ass was stocky
He a stupid mafucka he don’t act too properly
He the type, go in a meat market and ask for broccoli
You gassed I’m not, see

[Round 5: Jae Millz]

Ayo my flow is swifter than a young Magic
What? And the level that you just now reaching stupid I been passed it
I write classics, but never mind that fuck all this rap shit
He’ll get his ass kicked
Yeah you could rap it, but you might as well go kiss a nigga
Nigga, cuz to me you still a faggot, you’ll get ya abs ripped
Shorty I got mad clips
With bullets the size of Chinese crab sticks
Small timer you ain’t sticking nothing
You’s a lil nigga I bet you and ya bitch be humping
Listen to yourself you spit like a youngin’
Damn you still on that battle shit take ya ass to 106 or something
Get a hustle, try to stack up ya chips or something
Save up try to lease a lil whip or something
But please, just leave me the fuck alone
Stop trying to shine off me and come up on ya own, homes
From what I heard you could’ve been superb in hoops
But now you run around trying to spit words in groups
It don’t matter, Mook Murda or Murda Mook
Either way this nigga pussy my mother will murder Mook
Fuck all the magazines and shit I live this, you don’t even dream the shit
I love when niggas try to make a scene and shit
So it don’t shock you when you ask “yo you seen that shit?
Look at his grill you seen how Millz leaned that shit?
What happened to Mook why he look like a fiend and shit?”
Cops said I shouldn’t have snapped at him
But he was talking raw like his flow was dope
So I had to spit some crack at him
Fuck throwing snaps on him, I put the mac on him
Leave him laid out in the park and Maybach on him
Ya mama named you Johnathan, so I’m a call you Lil Jon
And you don’t rap all you do is scream like you Lil Lon

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