John John Da Don vs. B Magic [Lyrics]

[Round 1: John John Da Don]

Me and Syah rep SWAG, don’t forget the ink, got me?
400 Blocc ain’t the only niggas that keep Shotty’s
Came home to NY, B to catch a mean body
I Dot Mob’s and you’ll get ya whole Team Homi’d
The gun blow turn ya stomach into gumbo
Unless his vest could pocket from them Rockets like Mutumbo
My niggas front row while you starring in my gun show
You’ll get a warm welcome, first to clap it, then the drum roll
Pick em out a crowd, what you think I got the rifle for?
It’ll catch him from the blind side like Michael Orr
Magic ain’t a savage, I don’t know what y’all hyped him for
My sweet 16’s will get his Elite ate/8 I ain’t worried about the fighting 4
This guy’ll fall if he thinking that he fly
I put a Dot on his top if he thinking that he i
I’ll LAY him in a BAG if he thinkin that he WISE
And give this nigga 2K’s if he thinkin that he LIVE
It’s that time where it gets real, this nigga think he hot
Will somebody tell this bitch chill
He gon get loud and hype until them clips peel
Chrome in his ass make this motherfucker sit still (steel)
If he don’t die tonight I bet his kids will
Black Dodge, Ram size swipe him off a big wheel
Take him to Burger King, it won’t seem like a big deal
Until I give em toys that didn’t come with the kids meal
If you ain’t ever been on a plane with terrorists and survive the flight
Been to hell and back, even had a chance to say hi to Christ
Drink gasoline and ate a stick of dynamite
Fuck made you think you wasn’t gon die tonight?!
You gon need that dictionary Remy got his words from
The address to the beauty shop Verb got his perm from
Yung Ill to say, “who is this nigga?” and make me look all lame
And Hitman Holla to stop me mid verse to yell “BALL GAME!”
Cross me and just take one step out of line
You’ll get ya eyes gouched and brains blown
He’ll be really out of sight and out of mind
Last nigga tried to school me he got Columbined
So test me, get a multiple choice how to die
That’s A) Headshot til his jaw with a slug
Or B) Shotgun pellets all up in his gut
Or C) Go for his legs and have him crawling in his blood
Or D) Start from his feet and shoot all of the above
Laxative guns, it’ll knock the shit out anything
Too big for me to carry I conceal em in a sling
Silencer on a tip for when it scream it’s like a phone on vibrate
You won’t hear it, but you’ll feel it when it ring
2012 with the shells I’m coming to put an end to ya
9 spit keep live clips like a cinema
It’ll clear ya insides out like an Enema
So when you see John Hancock/hand cock it ain’t my signature
B Magic be at church every Sunday paying ties
Then on Street Status rapping bout blazing 9’s
I know Nelly paved the way for ya state to shine
But is you a Saint or a Lunatic? Make ya mind
That’s why y’all niggas hurting out ‘thurr’
‘Urrthing derrty’ cuz ya water ain’t working out ‘thurr’
Who gassed him like he Ill like his verses got germs?
But Magic ain’t been sick since Earvin got cured
Gats for hire, by the way I get them ratchets fired
You’ll feel holy when they sing it’s like a Baptist choir
Clap and hire til I get ya jaw cracked and wired
Throw a bullet in his newborn mouth, soon as I pass, it fire (Pacifier)
My raps admired cuz I’m one of the best
I’ll pull ya lungs on ya feet, make you run out of breath
Then keep dumpin the tech til there’s none in it left
Machines drawn, King Kong get a drum on his chest
Let me guess you getting money and you ballin in that new shit
When ya niggas got beef they call you for the shootin
That’s how I know you lying in that talking that you doing
Cuz nigga ya name Magic you just causing an illusion
Stupid! You not a thug you don’t bang with the G’s and apes
You broke so desert the only time you get seen with cake
I come to St. Louis and when I see you Ima beam the 8
Put you out ya misery/Missouri and you ain’t gotta leave ya state
I can’t move without that metal like Robocop
Throwing bullets from that Cowboy/cal boy I took Romo spot
Whoever standing right beside you when that 44 pop
I’ma put ya face on they body like Photoshop
Swag Inker don’t blink, join the campaign
Guns I pull em from the thigh like a hamstring
B Magic a champ? I end this champs reign
With bullets the size of Rozay bottles, I bring this champ pain/champagne
I was gon go light, but shit I’m too heavy
If you believe in Magic you still believe in the tooth fairy
B Magic a crip? Okay, who’s worried
He’s a muffin, it ain’t nothing to get this guy in Blue buried
I be in that Carmelo/car mellow
Trying to get my Bills up/Billups like Chauncy
Run from this NY, K you’ll be Amare
The difference is he posted up but won’t bang for real
I give em 6 and they’ll find him in the Laundry Field
This can’t be real, you the man tho Magic
You look broke all the time, but you got grams tho Magic
And about those lips, I’m just trying to understand tho Magic
I mean what’s up with the white/Dwight? This ain’t Orlando Magic
You could say I am more official than a cool Ref
But I still put him out the game with these two techs
Twin ‘matics gon sing together like a duet
One of these Midwest niggas down, Smack, who’s next?

[Round 1: B Magic]

If we beef dog expect a ratchet
Ya neck I snap it, with them techs I let ya have it
I bless the addicts, this nigga gon respect the Magic
Bitch I’ll push ya cap back like Inspector Gadget
If you think you wanna swing then ya met the boxer
Ya rap image is a make believe metal popper
I’m down to earth but I’m flyer than a Helicopter
Knew he was a Gaylord when I Met The Focker
I put the pump to ya nose like nasal spray
And let that drum go “boom!” that’s an 808
I turn my back and then shoot it til you fade away
I run out of bullets and go stupid with the razorblade
It’s B Magic mafucka… the show arrived
Put holes in ya oil pan when I throw a ride
Like 44 I come after you with the .45
I’m a mechanic, open ya hood up like the motor died
The Lying/Lion King gon get Scarred when this 9 pop
It’s Simba/simple it hit ya bone yard and leave ya pride rocked
If I could give you 12 rounds nigga why box?
Cool bartender how I give a nigga 5 shots
The Cyclops, get that chop chop and hurt ya set
Bitch you ain’t never had arms like a birth defect
You the type of nigga that would rock a jersey dress
I snap and give a Kidd 5 like the New Jersey Nets
No shit talk I shoot the 4 until you super sore
I pop in the clip and I’m flippin on em like a Luchador
Battling niggas like me you gotta be used to war
Bruise ya jaw, ya lid get the steel like a sewer door
Look you a soft, this act he on
Station wagon his chest put it where his back be-long
My right hook like Calzaghe holmes
That mean ya jaw easily broken like an athlete bone
Think my ears cold the way I’m throwing up my hood
Rob you for ya money, take the G’s off ya Visa
And the day B Magic get beat bruh
Steve fuckin Lara and Screech fuckin Lisa
I hit a nigga block just to pull it
I’m in ya hood trying to play open chess/chest with bullets
I’m all about what’s on my mp3
B Magic bout to beat a square like an MPC
“BOW! BOW! BOW!” Multiple stab wounds
Leave ya monkey ass red like a baboon
Black rings around ya eyes like a Raccoon
I bust it til the spring break like Cancun
This nigga dome where the iron peel
I bet a nigga stop and roll when I fire drills
The shotty will knock you down for that extra shit
And the chopper’ll knock you up like a pregnant bitch
Give you wings like a New York Knickerbocker
Run up and ring his door bell with the nigga knocker
Wanksta you bout as Gangsta as Mr. Rogers
Not one nigga in here think you a pistol popper
Fuckin punk, Magic chin breakin
Nigga go and eat a sub for his Penn station
I shoot to kill ain’t no skin grazing
I end a show with a “BOW!” that’s a temptation
This last round called “Body Bag”
Probably get out this battle in a body cast
The shotty blast leave you with them dead body tags
Even the Mighty Duck when I’m creepin in that Hockey Mask
You lollygag, know the best is better
I leave you Red over Green like a Freddy sweater
The Dessie wet em, the chopper made him spin backwards
These rounds making contact like Lens Crafters
Bitch I get long dome like Stewie head
Bangin cans behind ya car like a newlywed
Think you sick? Well B Magic is the Sudafed
This right hook will give you them Zab Judah noodle legs
I’m Midwest until my day come
Throwing niggas off a stage like I’m Akon
Get cream with the magazine like Avon
I just do it for the Love get my Faizon
It’s all love when I’m poppin’ off the heat
Make sparks fly then I knock him off his feet
Bitch you need my say so to walk across the street
Shots fly let’s see if you can talk without a cheek
I’m hard without a beak, I’m lifting up the toast
Start acting Immature til he given up the ghost
I pull a 57 like I’m zipping up a coat
Grabbed em and drug money like I flip a lot of coke
Hit the growns up for speaking bout the 4
Or nicotine fit like I’m fiending for a smoke
Everything I do sell/sail like I did it on a boat
I work for everything like a universe remote
This nigga group got some square members
Call this Nina Avatar it’s an Airbender
Plus I heard John John was a transgender
Wear tight shirts, skinny jeans and them Van slippers
I’m bout to make Norbes bring out the yellow tape
Bitch I don’t like you, I’ll beat you if my (?) break
I’m bout to grab the chainsaw I’m going Leatherface
B Magic spitting hot lines while you tailor made
I regulate, B Magic educate you dumbfucks
Plus I want 10% of whatever them S.O.N.S. touched
I’m bout to get rid of the trash like a dump truck
Bust shots, now the train driver went Con-duct/ducked
Fuck that nigga from Roll Bounce son
Fuck that nigga them two tranny’s was fighting over
I’m new skool with an ol skool movement
Snap and give you the blues like ol skool music
This nigga Sorry like a board game
The 4’s bang, the outlines with the chalk came
I kept him leaking off the curb like an oil stain
Cuz this fag hit-men playing ball games
No disrespect to that nigga Holla
But Brixx I will shoot Techs at that nigga mama
Right now I see you killin ya self
But I throw Brixx at Belvedere and have him feeling himself
B Muthafuckin Magic

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