Iron Solomon vs. Math Hoffa [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Iron Solomon]
Little Math, little Math, your records retail this year?
You prolly sell as many copies as there’s females in here
Little Math, little Matthew, look around the room you bitch
Aside from her and her, you’re the only one with a uterus
Little Matthew, little Matthew, you’re sweeter than licorice
Only thing hood about him’s the skin on his clitoris
Little Matthew, little Matthew … You like when I call you little Matthew
See I call you little bitch, but your real name’s so bitch I don’t have to
Cause I’m dissapointed with the comp that Smack has given me
I’ma make Smack wanna smack you litta’lly
You got garbage punchlines and plastic similies
I recycled your rhymes to trash you lyrically
Cause back in high school, I smashed his chickadee
To cut, she cut science class to visit me
We had the chemistry, attracted physically
Taught her sex ed and wood shop, now Math is history
He passed this bitch to me, you failed, she follow me
I mapped it instantly, it’s called geography
Social studies, the whole globe’ll love me
But you’re only famous to your local buddies
So get focused dummie, it’s just the start of the lecture
I play the part of professor, in your hardest semester
Get your pocket protector, protect your pockets
Withdraw your wallet, direct dough-posit
Collect your profit; your digits subtract
I divide your pie so my division could snack
Pay you no mind, I never listen to math
Plus – I’m ADD, in addition to that
So I’m getting your cash, this schooling is priceless
My other students is lifeless, you’re gonna loose to the nicest
A grown man’s face isn’t usually like this
He looks like Chris Brown having a puberty crisis
And I’m Mike in his prime, you ain’t even a top sequel
Sugar Shane verse Sweet n’ Low, we’re not equal
I’ve mastered addition, and you’re lacking in wisdom
He dies, I multiply with a masters precision
I gave him the equations, but his answers are missing
So if this guy’s a problem, I’m a mathematician
He a keyboard beat, I’m a MP snare
Your tanks on E, and I’m MC squared

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]
Ayo …
This nigga’s a midget
Standing here he prolly feel like he’s shrinking
This ain’t a battle, this a debate; Obama verse Hillary Clinton
See, I don’t like Solomon, Solomon is wack
He look like a big ass duck, that waddled into rap
And we all know his role model isn’t black
You ain’t sucking Eminem’s dick, but you gargling his sack
My man told me not to battle, it ain’t bringing in the chips
He said “that’s Iron Solomon!”
I said “you think this nigga’s sick? I don’t think this nigga’s shit”
Made me wanna tear the pussy up even more, I started thinking like my dick
All these battle rappers walking ’bout, I’ma tell you why
They ain’t got shit to talk about, just the other guy
I could talk about me, living horror to your eyes
How I went on robbing sprees from August to July
Shit that’s year round …
I got a rep you can’t tear down with jokes
Shit I’m feared round the coast
Four four four five, push the peer down your throat
How another mouth behind your ear sound? Gross
Play your post, pussy, don’t get fucking crazy
I bust a eighty ‘fore I loose to this Muppet baby
And you know he got his whole clique coaching him
“You ’bout to battle Math? Don’t get to close to him
He got a fast right hand, but I’d watch both of ’em
Cause you don’t wanna end up in a whole with Dose n’ em”
Shit my squad raw, nigga I’m hardcore
I come through, raise up, like a garage door
I rob nigga’s, what the fuck I need a job for?
This dick too pussy – something like a menage, bwoi
So fuck whatever Iron hollering
I’m a steamer from the cleaners, I iron Solomon
And I heard he got a giant following
Good, they can watch Iron Math Tyson leave Iron wobbling
Mmmmmh … I ain’t ass, he ain’t try’na blast
Only work he ever put in the projects was for his science class
I can get Iron snatched just for trying Math
Have him like a skinny white girl: Can’t find his ass
I’m from Brooklyn, the borough where we get to clapping
Just imagine how you feel and how your chest collapsing
Fuck the laughing, my whole team set for action
Where you from?! What you rep?! Midtown Manhattan?
Aw shucks, this nigga is soft butt
I can see him on his block, try’na be all tough
Bop when he walk up, pant’s sagging, brown paper bag and a large cop of coffee from Starbucks
Now you all exposed like dog nuts
His face turning red, his glasses done fogged up
He like a lab rat on the trap, he all stuck
Hand him some soap, this lil’ nigga ’bout to get washed up
Put him in my shoes, while I’m taking them trips
Homeboy got to work, so we taking his bricks
Tell him knuckle nigga’s down while he facing the fifth
I bet he seize up like he claiming the Crips
Fast life, yeah I murk the turbine
Got bitches on my knob like a “don’t disturb” sign
I’m serious like the kid from Jerz you heard mine
Let’s see if he got the nerve to even serve his first line
Before you do the obvious, I’ma prove he a sucker
My name Math, so he prolly gonna do shit with numbers
But my name’s an acronym, if you don’t know what that means
For every letter in my name there’s a word in between
Give you an example: Every weekend it’s just Me And The Ho’s
Get it? M. A. T. H.: Me And The Ho’s, see
I’m way prepared for the bars that you got;
My Arsenal’s Too Heavy, My Aura’s Too Hot
But if he wanna do math, fuck it then bet
Subtract his glasses, add blond hair, what would you get?
I can break this pussy down without busting a sweat
You been battling rookies, it’s time you fuck with a vet

[Round 2: Iron Solomon]
You’ve been sucking dick, as long as I’ve been sucking titties
So if you’re pussy, maybe that’s why you ain’t fucking with me
Cause your shit’s softer, than Justin hugging Britney
And my shit’s tougher, than Bobby snuffing Whitney
It’s revenge of the nerds; fuck Math, I’ll get my vengeance with words
Sentences, words and paragraphs
If I’m Slim Shady, I guess there’ll be nothing after Math
See, you softer than a rabbit getting pulled out a magic hat
If I’m a midget, and you loosing, now how whack is that?
See, he had one or two lines, but that first round was trash
In a second, you’re getting burnt, like a pound of hash
When major numbers count, you can’t count on Math
But his days are numbered now, he can count on that
Cause you more like Count Drac, biting verses, you suck
Can’t counter attack, my fighting words is too tough
I launch a full strike, I’m the axis of evil
Leave you down for the count, like Dracula’s people
So let’s count down, like a jacket with goose feathers
With supreme mathematics added for good measure
His old dad named him Math, your pop’s Urcle
He’s the zero in the cypher, corny as a crop circle
9 months you was born, earth delivered a boy
It’s mealtime, you’re getting ate, I build and destroy
If you rest on the 7th, you can never compete
Cause the true gods assemble at the End of The Week
My 6th sense telling me: Evil keeps watching me
People keep blocking me from peace and equality
Solomon, follow me, 5 star general
The pinnacle, powerful, my squads incredible
Vultures keep telling you: This culture’s for revenue
But 4 elements brings freedom to the destitude …

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]
Aight …
So the nerd knows math, what a fucking surprise
That shit don’t apply to me, so you still suck in my eyes
I look at you and get the feeling you got something to hide
Cause your nose and your glasses look like a fucking disguise
Everybody’s so amazed to see a white boy spit
That they don’t realize a white boy isn’t (?)
Well somebody tell this white boy to watch his mouth while he spitting
Cause I done boxed more chins than a chinese president
Look, your jokes ain’t shit to me … Nigga you a nerd!
Your pussy words can’t get to me
But I know your history
How he started rapping and acting all niggery
I’ma recap, y’all follow, you get the picture, see
His pops had a rocky life: He was a dummie
He used to bet on Rocky fights, and loose his money
After Rocky father ain’t had no dough
So he kissed the kid goodbye and took his ass on the road
Now his moms had the Black Snake Moan
She was like the halfway house, whenever cats came home
They’ll play a rap tape, to drown out his screaming
But guess who white ass was in the other room sleeping
Fast forward, who standing here screaming?
You play Rakim, in his head he gonna hear a bed sqeaking
Look Iron, you messing with a demon
Beast or human being I don’t give a fuck I’m eating
I’m way too street for you
Show you what a heater do
I’ll beat him till he need some new teeth to chew a piece of food
He wanna be street, throw him underneath a vehicle
This nigga ain’t beef, I could feed him to his sheeple too
Listen, I run with the wolfes
We on the prowl till our stomach’s is full
Don’t come with the bull, or we gon’ eat steak
He jewish, he a cheapskate
He can’t afford the beef, he call his peeps in his peeps’ flake
Cause his peeps’ fake
We grown men; they all a bunch of juniors, all they got for me is cheesecake
I tried to hang with Iron, but it ain’t work out
I had him in the streets, he keep letting the nerd out
I said “Iron! I need some bricks, you know people?!”
He said “it’s funny that you ask, I’m bout to go to Home Depot”
I said “Iron!” – I’m puffing a cig – “you wanna bus down?”
He said “Nah, I take the train, Math, I’m going uptown”
I said “Iron! I got that budder! What’s cracking?!”
He said “I’m more of a Parkay guy, it’s less fattening”
You’re try’na sound all tough, but you’re just rapping
That’s why everytime he get’s loud, I’m just laughing
I got a thing for your sister, you oughtta know this
She the first white girl that I smashed, we met in Lotus
She took the kid raw, so I could spray on her faster
I felt like caviar the way I came on a cracker
(Hold on, hold on, hold on …
Nigga’s bugging, yo hold on)
Every night I got a freak to meet
I got his broad licking balls while he deep and asleep
If Iron walk in, he prolly wouldn’t leave her
He’d stand there and beat his meat, like Rocky in the freezer
You know them white boys, wierd as they can be
Peeking at his sister, prolly wearing her panties
Jerking at the dinner table, stairing at auntie
Kill his moms and tell the cops “she kept making me angry!”
He want Eminems style
And Eminems wife
He gay so I can’t say he want Eminems wife
He want Eminem cars
And Eminem homes
When he say he a EM-C, he mean a Eminem Clone
Keeping it fair: If I could reach in his ear and pull out three toughts
The first’d be about him bleaching his hair

[Round 3: Iron Solomon]
You keep compairing me to Eminem is just lame
And everybody know you be selling M&M’s on the train …
See, I’m a nerdy white guy, pshh, I grew up with loop
I went to Styverson High School, and I’m jewish to boot
A banker or a broker’s what I prolly should be
Cause handling math, have never been a problem for me
See, Math is all hype, he going at the wrong mic
Fuck rap; you more like the basketball type
And we could hoop in a pair of Timb’s
I’ll still wear ’em thin
I’m a Natural Born Killer, the rap Woody Harrelson
He looking at me, like White Men Can’t Jump
Till I step off the bench and light your ass up
In a couple seconds flat, check the stats, when it’s time to score
I’m number one, like 23, and son ain’t even final four
And for the record Math, you’re getting waxed in a vinyl store
I turn the tables on rival sets, when I fight a war
I infiltrate like Trojan soldiers from inside a horse;
A baby with a butter knife, against a samurai with swords
A pitbulls bite, lockjaw, and a lions raw
You got a marshmellow heart and styrofoam spinal chords
I’m an upcomming pimp; you’re the worst kind of whore
That gets fucked once and quits cause her vaginas sore
It’s like he’s PMS’ing, it’s like he has his period
Who’s he think he’s kidding? He can’t be serious
Before the Smack appearances, I heard dude spitting
Sounded like one of Shaq’s apprentices, should have been in Fu Schnickens
Used to spit like Bone Thugs
But wasn’t getting no love, so now he try to rhyme like Serious Jones does
He hopes his lyrics’ll blow up; whichever gimmick pops
Rappers like him – this is why Mims is hot
But I’m a real lyricist, something Mims is not
I oughtta go diamond with the gems I drop
And this is why I’m hot, I can chip ’em off the block
Or I rip ’em with a written cause I glisten like a rock
And this is why you not, but you flip and gonna flop
Cause you spits a lot of fiction like the mission in Iraq
With the wins I got, I defend my spot
I chase gin with scotch, you drink ginger schnapps
Try’na riding my lane, your stock rims’ll pop
Try holding my crown, your limbs’ll rot
Try wearing my shoes, I’ll even lend you socks
Feels like you rocking Timb’s made of cinder blocks
If heaven got a ghetto, I’ma send you ock
Go chill in Thugz Mansion, be friends with Pac
You a underground rapper, I’ll dig your plot
Party on your tomb stone – bring some pot

[Round 3: Iron Solomon]
Ayo…
Listen, shorty
You’re short, bummy, with short change
You had a short run, for a short time, a short reign
I got a short temper;
If I short right this short lame, it be a short fight
He gon’ run off with a short stain
My nigga’s put in work, they down to do dirt for me
So tell Brainy Smurf: It ain’t smart to smurf with me
I start a brawl purposely, just to see him broke up
They say I set Dose up, if I did, so what?
Most these nigga’s so butt, I don’t wanna battle ’em
I just wanna hit ’em, shake ’em up and rattle ’em
They talk a bunch of fiction, just a bunch of babbling
I show ’em how I’m living; they going in an ambulance
It’s Training Day, I’m Denzel to this dude
He the rookie white boy, I gotta tell him the rules
I let him think he smoking Math, hit the pipe and he set
That’s when I turn and say “I ain’t know you like to get wet”
Now he wiping his sweat, he on PCP
Hallucinating that he wan a Smack DVD
Tell Iron he ain’t dealing with a TV G
Ax around, I’m the Truth, like Beanie Si
He no thug, he know me from his people’s club
Cause I done fucked nigga’s up – outside of EO dubb
We throw slugs, nigga’s wanna fight, we don’t budge
I always got a right for a soft nigga like Neo does
He on drugs, white boys and they habits
Go to his crib, he prolly got a drawer full of tablets
Something to pop when he mad, something to pop when he sad
Hope you got something to pop for Math chewing yo’ ass
He gon’ run up on the roof, crying out for sympathy:
“I never loose! I never even lost my virginity
It’s killing me! How’d that black motherfucker win?”
Though he was a Eminem, but he just another Jin
And while he on the roof, all stuck in his slump
I’m downstairs screaming up to him “jump, nigga, jump!”
This punk is a punk, let him front if he want
I could take his front off with one pump with a pump, pssh..
White bread you done come for dead
You wanna battle? Me lick you with a buckle on your lumpy head
White bread, what ya try for do?
Mine a bad man, me shoot you and your wifey too
And that’s just me doing how I like to do
Fuck him up and let his homeboys wipe my shoes
And here’s a fact: King Solomon was black
I got his blood in my veins, you’re just a bum with his name
His parents got money, and I’m strapped for the bread
So when he leave after this; throw a bag on his head
Make him call up mommy with the tech to his liver
Tell daddy “empty the trust fond and get it delivered”
And when they get him back, I’m gon’ be set with the figures
And they’ll tell you: “That’s what you get for messing with … NIGGERS!”

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