Math Hoffa vs. Aye Verb [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]

Now he gon talk about my battles, all classics by the way
And probably try to say I ain’t win ‘em, all right, okay
He gon talk about the videos he seen on Worldstar and shit
Probably got my government name out of some Harlem bitch
My name Math, some number schemes, he gon spit a few
And I’ll be like “That’s so original and unpredictable!”
He might bring up the Dose battle, where we got the brawling out
If that’s what it takes to win, y’all might as well wheel my coffin out
‘Cause as far as his career, there really ain’t much to talk about, until now
Now a verb is an action word
If that refers to you then homie, that’s absurd
‘Cause when you came to New York for Ill’s match with Surf
You did some shit that showed me that you lack the nerve
I seen Verb at the last battle, face nervous
He said “Math, they search you? ‘Cause they ain’t search us
Some shit go down in here, it’s gon be straight murders
‘Cause you BK niggas even take burners to a wake service!”
I had two bangers on me, that’s how ya man roll
I’m Rambo, my hand go – somebody van go (Van Gogh)
I said “damn bro, hold this one, you owe me one”
He looked down at the blade like I passed his ass a smoking gun!
He passed it back to me then he said some foolishness
Talkin ‘bout
“Nah, I’m good Math, I wouldn’t even know what to do with it”
Am I lying my nigga? I played it cool like, “Let me get that nigga”
But in my head, I’m like ”this sucka ass, bitch ass nigga!”
So how can I believe anything that this guy say?
He pussy, nigga wouldn’t back out in a driveway
Won’t cross the line to exit on the highway
He steal, he don’t kill, he Ezel from Friday
So how he gon stand up to the type of shit I say?
Like if Verb want the beef? Drive-by, we’re dumping nines
He try to run, jump the curb, bow! *crack* crush his spine
Hop out, stomp him in the face for tryna fuck with mine
Then grab his phone and text “Yéle Haiti” 500 times
Your real name’s Chaz Duncan! That just says “I’ve never done a crime!”
He’s sweet and moist, we should call him Chaz Duncan Hines
He claim the streets love him, but when you ask for dog
He like women’s basketball, they hardly ever see Duncan (dunking)
Hold up, shotgun’ll make him fold up
Big hole, no guts, that’s a Duncan (Dunkin’) Donut
This nigga Aye Verb is a clown
I call him Chaz just to turn a (Aye) verb to a noun
Once I knock the Verb out, then Aye’s knees will be buckling
‘Cause Aye becomes Gaye (gay) when a G is in front of him
You ain’t nothing real, you hardly say something ill
Call yourself Captain Marketable, that’s so gay
You starving for a fucking deal, this battle is like Jay-Z vs. Jada Smith
‘Cause I will not lose, but you fucking Will
You just aight Chaz, you never gon reach the top
This nigga think he a winner just because he beat his meat a lot
Y’all remember he told Hollow?
“If you try that Math Hoffa shit, swing, he gon weave the shot
And these people gon give you the same treatment that Jesus” — STOP!
Nigga please, you see the type of reach I got?
You can’t weave my speed, you gon spit a couple teeth and drop
Your peoples, they gon leave the spot, then in a couple weeks this twat
Gon wake up out his coma with the same beard that Jesus got

[Round 1: Ayeverb]

Aye Verb vs. Math Hoffa, I ain’t glad, I’m mad partna
Y’all threw me in the ring with y’all battle rap bully? Mr. “Jab Proper?”
A nigga that sucker-punched an 125 pound man and didn’t drop him?
That’s obnoxious, why y’all treat him like he Batman
Like the battle world is Gotham?
That’s why he got that chip on his shoulder stuck like a shotgun
But there’s one problem
Real niggas never get accused of fucking with fags, Hoffa
Let’s break you down, lyrically you ave, Hoffa
But you funny as a motherfucker, you make niggas laugh, Hoffa
I will homie-don’t-play-that sock this clown, the padlocks in it
Undercover rapper slash copper
I tell my niggas to shoot, you tell and get my shooters locked up
I’m going after gold with Mook, why in the fuck should I chase copper?
He swing on me, I swing back but I’m waving that damn chopper
Shots pop him, he in the hospital propped up
Shit bag, small TV, soap operas, Jell-o cups, nurses, doctors
Them rappers you punked, we’re not them and they’re not us
Tonight, your voice get out the pocket, just one octave
I’ma show you how I’ll do Math: reach in my pants, gun by my abs, cock it
Blast and knock a fraction of his chest away
Now y’all looking at half Hoffa
It’s something strange about you derty, I ain’t saying you ain’t real
But I sit around gangstas all the time back home and Hoffa
You just, you just don’t get me that same feel
Type of nigga, broad day, Timberlands, “Math Hoffa! Brooklyn!
Night time, it’s half top like “Hey, poppa, I’m Brooke Lynn!”
Down low brother, when that round blow, brother
You better take cover and get down low, brother
Niggas acting like his dad’s great
Till you see Verb in all black, shotgun with that kick that boom!
Sound like a 808
Go ahead nigga, start a few, I’ll murk all you fools
I quarterback my team, I move when I tell em, it’s like an audible
Math get home before me, get the shining, I want all them jewels
Huddle up with my linemen and tell em
“Hit that nigga and take that shit” just like a toilet stool
Don’t get gassed Math ‘cause I got this killer look
Like I won’t wet that windshield, hop out
Put that pump in your side and squeeze just like a Fill’er-up
This nigga’s nuts, I told you Smack, I’ma run through these rappers
Y’all threw a antelope in front of a raptor
If you’re static, I come get all y’all, it’s the rapture
Fuck what he believe in, Baptist, Christian, or Catholic
That bell ring and Verb standing here, he needs a casket
‘Cause the whole match-up is bad biz
Y’all know how you order something
And the bubble paper around the package?
Well to me, that’s what Math is!
This nigga’s ass, I’ll chew his ass as is
I’m pro tools, leave you vocal
Everybody know you there but we ain’t listening for you
You a motherfucking adlib

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]

Before I start this second round, there’s some shit I gotta handle
Gotta give a nigga light before pissing out his candle
Genero’s a snitch and he run around Flatbush
A rat tryna rat, nigga need to get his cap (pushed)
I could’ve called all the goons that I’ve got up in the black book
But since I’m on a stage where everybody in rap look
You ducked six months to get my man seven years
Deal money, stacks to the lawyer just to get him clear
You should’ve sat in that damn cell
Snitching on fam, that’s Lady Gaga’s gender – I can’t tell
But now that the hood know everything that I know
Where you gon hide, hoe? Faggot nigga, die slow
I ride though, .45, five for 5-0,
The other two I dump in you right before the swine’s show
Verb see the iron, his eyes grow, he cry no
Hope for Blanks but no thanks, I don’t fuck with Tae Bo
I’m a man, you under apes, you something snake
I could tell by that Ice blog that you fuck with Jake
You was pointing out every hammer like “another case, another case”
Your own man don’t even trust you
That’s why your mouth got that rubber taste
Somebody get this faggot out my fucking face!
Takeover? Ask the people if they believe you
All you’ll hear is “nah’s” (Nas), I’ll torture your soul with Ether
Chaz think you’re the king, who know you? Llama up off the buckle
Nobody move a muscle, you bout to lose a couple
My brothers pull cards, we don’t do the shuffle
Your brothers run, dog, y’all a crew of Russell’s
And now I’m dominating, I pull a long eight
These bitches gon perform a dog race with me commentating
“Yung Ill went off the first step, he takes the lead
Verb hot on his heels, Hitman building speed
Ill seems to have stumbled, falling, hurt his arm
Hitman is — ooooh! Hit by a Suzuki, ladies and gentlemen Verb is gone! He’s gone!”
First place, let me give you the medal
He told his ice cube to take a trip to the devils
He think he off the chain he just missing the pedals
You on a plain, I’m on a plane, this isn’t your level
You the devil in the flesh, no, I’m the devil at his best bro
I’ll make this Midwest hoe face metal like he Destro
Verb sending threats so I hit the Greyhound with a trey pound
The handle take round on the way down
Stake out his crib, he take his kids to the playground
I’m on the bench with a newspaper, my face down
He say “it’s time to go,” they say “we wanna stay!” bow!
“I gotta go to the hairdresser, I ain’t got time to play ‘round!”
They all start to break down, I run up, peel daddy wig
And tell them “be happy kids, at least you get to stay now”
Play awhile, leave the park in a few
Take him down to the slave trader, make him marketable
Two? That ain’t enough for me, crucify this fuck for free
I ain’t a Christian Verb, so a cross to you is a plus for me
Hold on, I ain’t done yet, sunset, I’m at his mother’s door
With two pits playing tug of war with her fucking jaw!
You want a war, Verb? I’m Mark fucking Walberg
Shoot a pistol until your medullas on the wall, Verb
You’ll never put a hole in one without the balls, Verb
I ghost busters (Ghostbusters), who you gonna call, Verb?
Those busters? I’ll Dose those busters
Open casket, no clothes, .44 those busters
No eyes and no nose, oh no those busters
Spray their heads, leave ‘em dripping, soul glow those busters!
Verb was in the nail salon getting a pedicure
Talking to Liang, he said “Liang, I must confess to you
I’ve got a battle coming with Math, tell the truth, he is incredible
I seen him a couple of times
I’m having dreams of him doing something detestable
Third round, he pulls a bag, a Hefty probably with a heavy shotty
Next thing I know I left my body, he shot me in front of everybody!”
Your body falls, splat, everybody fall back
I run up on the camera, bust the shotty off and go “SMACK!”
Pow! You’re done Verb, you can’t utter one word
Your thought patterns scatter, last thought you had, “Oh, I’m scurred”
Pow! Replay, welcome to your d-day
This battle’s a couple weeks late, pardon for the delay
I had a Tyrannosaurus cheesecake that didn’t go with meat great

[Round 2: Ayeverb]

Now we just heard all them jokes
And watched you just play mad mobster
But the fact still remains
Real niggas never get accused of fucking with fags, Hoffa
I ain’t feel comfortable when I walked in here, ass watcher
Aye fellas, this room get packed he gon get a grab, watch him
Old aggressive ass punk, go in the bar, see a nigga he want, spot him, Throw a drink at him, dude get mad, Math jab him, grab him
Pull him chest to chest like he finna slam him, and then wink at him
I gotta turn URL to Mortal Kombat 6
‘Cause y’all playing flag football, St. Louis? We on that contact shit
Before a battle, Math be in the mirror making sure his eye contacts fit
You a fucking fanboy I’m scared to make eye contact with
Far as your squad? Niggas nice, Hollow and Con, that’s it
Prob? Yeah, I bomb that fist and palm that fifth, you better calm that shit
Heard about where you from, Math, y’all produce the kind that snitch
I’ll show up on his block like “who’s sayin?” (Hussein)
Then Saddam that bitch
Killer piranha in the ocean yeah, I’m that fish
I’m nice hard, this as deep as y’all water get?
I can swim through Math with anchors on my ankles, no lifeguard
I can make your life hard, you write light bars, I write light “ah’s”
Strike pause, when you battled Solomon, you was getting killed
You had to play the white card
You battled Rex, you was getting killed, you said he was a Mike fraud
I wasn’t even gon take you, niggas don’t take you serious
Ill said “do it,” I said “you right, dog”
I’ma put all your little stripes under my wing
Yeah, use your little record like Right Guard

Speaking of records, Math said he should’ve been had a deal
He spit that hot lava, Question
Who’s gonna open a budget for you, buddy?
You have the image of a truck driver
I ain’t tryna hear all that superstar shit that he be talking
Kids be riding with their parents, see Math, hang out the window and go “EHHNG EHHNG” and he don’t even be driving, he be walking
Acting like your team is sick, dog, your team ain’t shit
I’ve got one question for every member in your team, your clique
Cortez, how long will it take ya Mexican ass
To make a 99-cent bag of Dorito chips?
Math, when the last time you gripped a machine gun or seen a brick?
Let me ask your manager, you fat motherfucker
When the last time you seen your dick?
I’m what you call a boss, my dogs, I don’t call ‘em off
Tell em that hollow’s off, introduce Brooklyn to the holocaust
Instructions: kill anything moving and you, haul em off
You, cotton soft, your slick game is average
They nickname me NASA the way I let them rockets off
No, I’ll bring the bitch out y’all toughest nigga
He a sucker nigga, main nigga that’ll suck a nigga
He’ll sit in a man lap and let him run his fingers up your backside
You little puppet nigga, man fuck this nigga!

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]

Chaz, you a hoe and this some shit that I’m about to prove
See, paying dudes and paying dues is what you got confused
Lux told him “You could battle Ice, that’ll be a good shot for you
Fly yourself out, and if you’ve got some bread, cop a room
Come through, do the battle, and I ain’t splitting no guap with you”
Verb was like “I got it, cool! At least I’ll get lots of views!”
So this cockatoo got on his grind, blew a cock or two
Flew out, chain tucked, money in his socks and shoes
Cops got the news, shut it down, Verb got the boot
Lux’s grimey ass ain’t give a fuck ‘cause he got the loot
Y’all think it’s not the truth, YouTube it, watch this dude
Standing on the corner all night like a prostitute
Talking ‘bout “Yo Ill, I think we bout to get rushed, dirty
Goodz said he got some pussy lined up, I think he talking bout us, dirty!”
Then he called out Solomon, really that was not the move
You couldn’t see Iron face to face if you was Dr. Doom
Just when I thought the hoe alone, I see another shot of you
On Worldstar, talking ‘bout you bout to get up guap for Mook?
What he told you? “25 and I’ll rock with you?”
What you said? “Aight daddy, I’ll hit the block for you”
That’s when I called him, like “you filling niggas pockets duke?
Come battle me! Now I’m making a profit too!” Toot toot!
Now you know how them broads feel
You won a little light, now you know how the dark feel
Sharp steel in your heart, now you know how the hawk feel
Eagle on his temple, one spark and he’ll cartwheel
I look at Chaz sober, a fairy, he’s nothing scary
Boosie on that Hurricane, Halle Berry, it’s Halle Berry!
Black & Decker tool case, Mac-11 tool spray
Hit from your gold teeth to your patent leather toupée
But why let the hammer go when I can just slam the hoe?
Split his cantaloupe; leave this pussy with a camel toe
We animals, this the Zoo against the Lou, no Chaka
I spit that blocka, you spit that thraga
That’s our slang so he probably don’t understand it
You know, some country niggas slow so you gotta speak in their language
Andele, Andele, E.I, E.I., uh-ohhhhh!
Shimmy shimmy coco puff, shimmy shimmy bow! Right “thurr”
I’m just tryna help him out a bit
If Chaz survive this, nigga, he’ll gon be a college trip
Captain Marketable, I can sell you on all kinds of shit
For one, you could be a face model for a hollow tip
It’s third round, we’re getting down to the gritty
I’m feeling iffy, but I gotta hold it down for my city
I know BK is with me, I can hear the spirit of Biggie
It’s all around me, I can feel him going in me!
“Ahw, first thing’s first, I, Poppa, squeeze all the dummies
Dummy, playboy’s country, he just brought us money
Those the ones I like ‘cause they don’t get Nathan but devastation
Your flow just seems like sanitation
Got bars, get turned like door knobs, heartthrob never
Whack and country as ever
However, New York City stays on a pedestal
Check the time zone, it’s telling you, we ahead of you
Like my nigga Jay-Z, fuck you, pay me
How the fuck you gon play me? The fuck is you gravy?
You must be crazy, Chaz, you a sweet bitch-“
Nah, nah, Big, I gotta do this nigga, peep this
I’m New York’s star, I’ve got New York scars
I put my work in, NYB, that’s my New York squad
You should’ve followed Lil Wayne, he the hottest in the game
But rather pull his teeth out than face them New York bars
‘Cause New York’s hard, I’m on my New York shit
I came to tell this nigga Chaz, get off of New York’s dick!
Go battle Yung Ill after he give Lux his style back
He done Smack, file that, where the fuck Miles at?!

[Round 3: Ayeverb]

Gee whiz, wasn’t expecting those bars, yeah right, ha ha
But the fact still remains
Okay, I’m off that shit, y’all get the point, time to switch lanes
Nigga, your bars ‘bout as exciting as a Knicks game
You ain’t dope, you can’t kill me
When Smack asked if I want a hit of Hoffa
I rolled up my sleeve and said “which vein?”
St. Louis know, he in the presence of a shooter
Know how his tone switch and his pitch change
He rap wild at them timid rap clowns, I’m that black clowd
That’ll thunderstorm and rain on that big name
No homo, this the round when I get in your ass, shit stain
Looking like a big bitch-ass holiday heart Ving Rhames
You’re just a New York battle rapper, this battle in New York
I’m in your house like “Fuck your couch nigga!” – Rick James
Surprise, y’all didn’t seen that coming
Like old girl from Dead Presidents hopping out that trash can, blasting
I’m ‘bout to smoke him, all y’all that gas Math gon need gas masks
He just signed Tsunami Surf to Team Hoffa
Surf text me like “Verb, he treat me bad, fam
He said it was all love, he just come to the studio
Get behind me, grab me, fuck me all flash fast
Got me walking around Jersey in a ass cast!”
Math said he the devil, nigga you gon have to let a leather pants (?)
I’m ‘bout to smoke this nigga, tonight I play the trash man
Yeah, listen to it, he don’t have bars
He do shit like bring up niggas real names to gain laughs
Well, mine’s Chaz and I’ll let him shave me bald on Smack
If Justin could book a plane ticket under the name “Math”

*Bleep bleep* “Newsflash, breaker, breaker, this just in
Math Hoffa, a.k.a. Justin
Was caught with two loaded .45’s and an ounce of crack cocaine
He said he was influenced by Rick Ross’s Hustlin
When interrogated by authorities
We found out the Brooklyn native’s heart was tucked in
Found out he was facing years just ten
And Justin agreed to cooperate with the authorities
Gave up the ‘who, what, when’
And I quote, ‘It was Cortez, Liaison, and D. Chambers too
I can’t go down for those niggas officers, fuck them’”
Back to business!
Brooklyn, how y’all produce a dolphin and y’all said shark?
Nigga please, I’ve been around wilder animals in Pet Smart
You’ve been active for six years
I’ve been active for a year; taking me, was that smart?
And he’s still losing this race with a five year head start
I needed dirt on Math, I hollered at Math lil broad
I said “what’s up, baby?” She said “What’s up, my man’s a fraud”
I said “Your man’s a fraud?” she said “yeah” so I said “tell me more”
She said “First off, that shit on his face, birth mark, he been had that scar
Trust me, Verb, he ain’t half as hard
Don’t nobody know him in Brooklyn, he ain’t even half a star
He 32 and still battling, embarrassing me with these average bars”
I said “well I’m over in Queens, so holler up baby, roll through”
She said ”I would but we don’t have a car
And my lights finna get cut off Verb, we have it hard, what can I do?”
I said “Oh, you need some cash at large”
Flew her to St. Louis, introduced her to a Vessona and some caviar
Had her selling ass to stars
I used my mind to control her body, your bitch is now my avatar

My homie Jun is locked away, so losing? Nah, not today
If I feel in my heart this win got away
I’ma show up on his sets with my crew
Aiming machines with lights on this actor
Trust me, this is not a play but someone’s getting shot today
Heat seeking shells, I toss in the air from like a block away
He can run, skip, buddy, hop away, till they get a hit
Them shells gon’ be after Math (Aftermath) like Dr. Dre
I ain’t worried about Math on no street shit
He can roll up to me waving a loaded handgun
I would probably, “Tuh, come on, quit playing, huh”
I’m from the show me state, you gotta show me
I don’t give a fuck where this man from
Yeah, we heard, but I ain’t never seen you fucking with Clips
He like Cam’ron

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