Math Hoffa vs. Calicoe [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]
People ask me what’d I take this battle for
Cuz I’ma kill k-k-k-kill-kill-k-k-kill Calicoe!
I came in the game, me and Dose, the gymnasium
Click clack boom! Turned his dome to a stadium
He got all up in my face so I wasn’t gon baby him
Click clack boom, knuckle bones on his cranium
Nowadays you see Dose it’s like seeing a ghost or an Alien
Niggas said I ain’t drop him, I don’t know what they was watching
If you wanna know the real deal check me out on most shocking
You remind me of Dose, you pussy
Play with me in here tonight and I’ma break a fucking jaw
Cuz this battle shit is all good, you can say all ya funny shit
I don’t give a fuck about you
Or none of them niggas that came with you, you heard me?!
That’s how I’m doing it nigga, you know how the fuck I give it up
Stop it slime, they think he that wild and live
But he told Yung Ill when it’s real it don’t gotta rhyme
I like that shit, too bad you threw a (?) line
Check his background, you’ll probably never find a crime
Truthfully I’m the one that he defines, in lines
Outward by the 9 and redesign a Waka Flocka rhyme
Love the gun sounds, love the-love the gun sounds
You shook ya change up you live the way the bums sounds
You ain’t thug life, you ain’t nothing like 2Pac
He survived 5, you’ll probably die from a flu shot
You see the boy strapped, it ain’t a chick in a tube top
No gay parents, but I’ll raise ‘em with 2 pops
Ya mother preferred the black, ya father preferred the blue tops
You ain’t amounting/a mountain to nothing
But you was made from a few rocks
Me lose to you? Stop. What you been sniffing glue, ock?
Hate to break your high man but I’m just running thru some new twat
Let’s clap and welcome Ayeverb back
I know a few of y’all been wondering, where the fuck is Ayeverb at?
See the shit Ayeverb be tweeting could get Ayeverb slapped
And he always battle here in New York
So here’s an interesting Ayeverb fact
Before I leave the bathroom I wash my hands
Before Verb leaves the bathroom, he get’s washed by Hanz
Beasley called me for this punk
Passport before he booked his plane ticket
I know I said I wouldn’t do it, but the fact still remains (?)
Now wordplay I had that since my birthday
Calicoe sucks Ayeverb when he’s thirsty
I ain’t (?) that real rap Gucci
You clone I should split ya dome for trying to do me
Get beat with a bat, I be at where you be at
Bring the beef to ya BF, heat wherever he at
Wherever I go you know the burners will go
Will knock U out of YOU like I turned into YO
Now when I battle a nigga I make him feel wack
Cuz it’s a difference between metaphors, a clever fraud
And street life was never yours, screaming real rap but the nigga lying
I ain’t got a slogan so I’ma steal Smack’s

[Round 1: Calicoe]

Two niggas that got knocked the fuck out
First of all I’m not Dose, 2nd of all I’m not Rex
And let’s get some shit straight
Hanz hands never went around Ayeverb’s neck
When we was setting the battle up
He said, “You don’t wanna do it NY”
Shit I’m like, “Why not nigga you don’t wanna do it in Detroit”
But look where we at, that’s because for the stacks and grands
I’ll clap a man and smack (?) Pakistan
It’s a wrap, saran, bullets stuffed, I pack a can
Him and Cortez faggot ass be bumper to bumper like a traffic jam
And I’m glad that Mexican bitch been running
See when I say something I really mean it
NYB should be mad at Cortez cuz if he would’ve played his queen position
They probably wouldn’t have ever got the king hit
Me versus this old nigga? Yeah, this shit bout to be bold nigga
Not just because I’m better than you lyrically
But because I actually know how to expose niggas
Like you walk around saying you the hottest nigga in URL
I’d rather refer to being a cold nigga
See I set every nigga up and get ‘em for everything that they got
I’m like a Gold Digger
Aye this burner’s lonely, so if these hot pockets, I fold niggas
It’s looking like a sandwich the way I do a savage
I see opportunity, take the roc, bullets that’ll shake his house
Heard chill, think you the 3rd wheel when I send a couple to take you out
See you a bitch ass nigga, want me to tell you why you a bitch ass nigga?
Cuz ya whole career is based on you swinging on a bitch ass nigga
Just think of all his opponents aside Verb that he got in that ring with
Well to me they was all birds
Rex? Every nigga in here know he soft
Dose was about ‘this’ height boy
And ya other opponent is self explanatory, a motherfuckin’ white boy
Now in that ring with a nigga that’s gon eat that jab and swing back
Before you make a move, know none of them niggas on my team rap
So you swing be packed, you gon get ya whole team clapped
Don’t make no move Math I really mean that
I’m a goon, my pops a goon, it’s in my genes scrap
Don’t forget I got Chicago riding, hit Big T’s jack
I know you gon say he can’t hang with you cuz he’s fat
But he don’t fight he got Lord’s
And he’ll put prints on ya head like a miskeen mask
I’m too young for these niggas
The main nigga that don’t come up out his comfort zone
You don’t wanna come to Detroit?
Aight fuck it, you can get slumped at home
Tired of these fucking faggots talking like they touch the chrome
I’ll smack his big ass and walk away like nothing’s wrong
And after that I’ma clap it til I break it
Throwing bullets, I’m a quarterback passing to the (?)
Real clips, these ain’t (?) clashing with the banger
And on ya last breath I’ma ask you is we rappers or is we gangstas?
Bullets are running backwards and going forward like
Consider them lost, you might as well toe tag
These Hollow’s gon leave ‘em leaning, you already snow dat!

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]

Yo Smack, why you never book me for no battles out of town?
You got these fake ass 2Pac’s acting like they Get Around
Knowing they be shook in they boots soon as they plane hit the ground
Pick a city you don’t like, I’ma burn that motherfucker down!
Y’all think this is a real nigga? That’s some crazy shit
What? You say ya name is Young what? Man, get off of Jay-Z dick
Smack said you getting lazy, when niggas babies get the 86
I said, “if he spazz smack, I’ma put him on his ass Smack”
I guess he getting ready to pay me to come out and babysit
Wavy, I got tired of waiting on Lux & Mook, fuck them fruits
They don’t know if they wanna host battles, just recruit
Crunch the booth, be thugs in suits, cheerleaders, substitutes
Man they don’t know what the fuck to do!
Fuck it, let them corny niggas fade out
I stayed out to wear the crown nobody never gave out
I can care less bout having the biggest name out
As long as when it’s done I’m the highest nigga paid out
When this is weighed out, it’s gon feel like tonight
You was in the same house with Michael Myers in a fight for life
You try to break out
But it’s like he laced his nike’s tight, you thought you found a way out
Look back, didn’t see Mike in sight
You turn around freightened cuz Mikey got that blade out
He swipes it twice, ya head falls, ya neck sprays out, then lightning strikes
I’m a slaughter this infant hardcore with a vengeance
Kick his door off the hinges, pump 4 in his tendons
Push his face in the pool till his hands stop moving
Watch, he ain’t water resistant
I’ll admit you spit a few bars that get a couple ooh/ahhs
But most ya battles you lost worse than Harold and Kumar
Speaking of Harold, I’ma leave him like Harold in his new car
Give him 21 Brooklyn style, Utah
Let me introduce y’all to the stupidest nigga
The one who Yung Ill coined a phrase on Smack, “Who is this nigga?”
Ol “I wish I was BMF,” but you don’t shoot for them niggas
You pussy, ain’t you say ya homie Proof was ya nigga?
Well here’s the question…
If you was murdered and ya man Proof was battling
And somebody spit a bar about ya roof getting splattered in
Knowing ya man Proof, what you think would happen then?
He’d tap his chin? You should never fucking rap again!
You think you tough cuz ya pops in the P now
But scared of a beat down so the block you don’t be round
Then lose a battle, then win a battle, I get it, I see now
You Ben Wallace in Detroit, only good for a rebound
I told Royce that he’s a pup in training
Know what he said, “you ain’t ever lie”
Calicoe ain’t ever chose to let the metal fly
Real recognize real and never testify
You be saying rhymes to ya mans, you be telling lies
Why you told me that he pussy and he never ride?
You and ya pops had the same (?) from hella guys
You gon be an outcast/OutKast in ya corner, focus, I’ma tell him why
You two face when it come to holding water, Aquemini
But all I’m saying is you ain’t got no fucking loyalty!
Loaded Lux the same that’s why that nigga keep avoiding me
You not a thug or a G, you really not a problem
Nigga you a goon, but what’s a goon to a goblin?
It’s all fact, now play ya strategy
Really, I was taken back when you said you’d battle me
You show up with the treys like K’s for casualties
The Doctor shows if I Grey’s Anatomy’s

[Round 2: Calicoe]

He talking about how I begged and begged and begged for the battle
But I’m thinking like, “nigga so what?”
You a vet and I’ma kill you and my stock’s finna go up
So nigga chill with all that big guy shit
For these twin macs go off and leave that big guy hit
And don’t act tough cuz you can get wrecked up
The mac bust is worst to get hit then by a Mack Truck
That black stuff, black mask, black gloves
Black hoodie and a black mask, and black slugs
It’s getting kind of funny dealing with these rap “thugs”
Talking all that street shit just to get they stacks up
Remember against Solomon you used an acronym
Yeah I’m talking bout that lil shit
Where you said, “me and the hoes”
He was talking bout them niggas that he roll with
Translation: I be shooting til the chambers empty and it goin thru you
In other words fuck hands I got arms that’ll hit the quarter of ya crew
This battle done made me mad
I ain’t the nigga to see how the anger will do the Math
Ain’t laying hands/Hanz when I put these (D’s) in Chamberz
See Math can’t respond to shit like that
Cuz for some reason he just ain’t that memorable
But if his old ass beat me, that shit’s got to be a miracle
What you should do is pay me to write ya shit
I’ll give you some drive and start steering you
Then ya whole sky will reflect of (?) just like the mirrors do
You know what pisses me off the most when I’m hearing you
You could say the wackest shit I ever heard in my life
And these niggas will start cheering you
See that’s what makes me think he put some type of fear in y’all
For instance he went and got accused of gay shit
Aye Verb decided to say shit and them same niggas ain’t cheer at all
You fuckin faggot, I’m tired of hearing bout how you tote the mac
How you provoke the scrap
Nigga I’m in the same spot where Dose was at
Yeaaaah! “Who is this nigga?” Okay I’m bullshitting, you know who he is
But that make it easier for my men to spot you and let it blow thru ya ribs
No remorse for ya shorties either, let it blow thru ya kids
You damn scrappy I even hit grand pappy on that sofa with his
Straight disrespect talk to all of ya men reckless
My chrome, man that bitch keep banging more than Karrine Steffans
That’ll pump X (?) ya man lessons
When I’m talking techs/text, I ain’t speaking on a sent message
But Math the type of guy that call guys and record the shit
What part of the game is that? So that’s what real niggas do?
So we supposed to believe you do big shit like that and kill niggas too?
You probably feelin like the Fresh Prince cuz you a Will nigga, dude
Funny guy, get ya whole clique thrown out we Uncle Phil niggas crews
Computer guy, you wouldn’t even survive in twitter jail
That’s how I know you ain’t got that 8 cookin
Cuz these ain’t the hands/Hanz that do the dirty work
That’s how I could tell he could never face bookin
I usually work niggas out like Phys Ed, but I say why be me?
When I could just roll that SK, why (Y) PE?
Y’all could rewind that, that’s that skyper rifle
That lead blam, the scope looking like a webcam
You damn right you gon notice my lead snipe when my web-sight
I’m trying to find a spot, nigga the 9’s will pop
And have forensics all in his hood trying to find his top
Or we could do it UFC style, get him that octagon
I beat him till it’s all red, that’s just sign to stop
So what you lames gonna tell me? The knife will give me cold cuts
I’ll leave his frame in the Deli, put flames in his belly
Catch ‘em in that concord soon as this gun jam I turn his brains into jelly

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]

Terranio Hightower, you gon front for niggas
But real rap, you know my style, I bring the guns to niggas
My bullets go here and wherever you niggas run to nigga
They be all here/hair and it’s high-tower, Rapunzel nigga
We could fight, don’t nobody wanna jump you nigga
Get socked and slapped, I’ll Dose you or Trump you nigga
I could say some other names but I don’t want to nigga
You dry snitch for punchlines, I just punch you niggas
So you know it’s whatever you little bitch nigga
You could stand up here and call me a fraud
But you use my dirt to diss niggas
How that line go? “Only reason Mook sign to a cash label
Is cuz they felt sorry for them 12 staples”
There’s rumors in the battle world saying I’m wildin
I beat Mook and I ain’t need $25,000
Is it true? Is it not? Did you catch Mook on the block?
And went “do-do-do-do-do-do-doom!” On his top?!
With a Rug or a glock?
Man you bitch ass niggas spreading rumors should stop
I don’t got no beef with Mook, but y’all remember that round he do
With Yung Hot? That applies, it seems like y’all pacified
Being satisfied with a pack of lies
Calicoe ain’t half the gangsta that he advertise
He classified average against a savage, he’s a sacrifice
I come to ya turf ya whole squad gonna get murked
Call me Polo, I but the riders in the front of ya shirt
When I was in the streets making runs with my work
You was in the streets saying, “come to my church”
I don’t care about none of the shit that you thrown in ya verse
Cuz you don’t got the brain capacity to fuck with my worst
When I’m spitting this ill you feel a difference in skill
If you gon rhyme like me you need the Limitless pill
I live it for real! I could give him a chill
Just by thinking what would happen if this shit get for real
Calicoe you fuckin bitch, the streets like when you fuck a bitch
Come/cum equipped or you gon get burnt without that rubber grip
Fuck is this? These Midwest niggas be on some sucka shit
So please don’t get down on ya knees when I say “suck a dick!”
Here’s a list of reasons why I Calicoe’s had it
Heartless in a pink fitted made you look like a faggot
Shotgun Suge disrespected ya dead homie and you didn’t let him have it
You told (?) how Cortez got his pocket stuck
Now this wasn’t just tragic
Cuz I was there with Cortez when we made his pockets go rabbit
Am I lying nigga? You ate Ms. Hustle out on her period! I’m serious!
He ate Ms. Hustle out on her period! I’m serious!
Dirty nigga, talking bout he ain’t ever did it before, he was curious
What happen to you Midwest niggas
Posted in every corner like a stop sign?
Wet glock 9 leave him at a stop sign
Stop slime, why don’t you stop saying stop sign
And you stole that rock climb line from Conceited… and I’m not lying!
I’d hate to be ya pops, especially if he don’t fuck with the staff
CO’s come up to him
“Yo ya son just had a battle! That motherfucker got smashed!
The nigga in the battle was talking bout you getting fucked in the ass”
“And what my son do? He popped off right?!”
“Man that pussy nigga ain’t do nothing…. He laughed”
Then pops came in the yard trying to play tough, lighten his face up
People walk by whispering, ain’t no director to say cut
He got a son named Terraneo and he straight butt

[Round 3: Calicoe]

This lying ass nigga! That’s why I never would trust you
My bitch right here, does she look anything like Ms. Hustle?
He said he gon kill-k-k-k-k-kill-kill Calicoe
He gon kill-k-k-k-k-kill-kill Calicoe
Grab the steel, p-p-p-p-peel then Math’ll go
Blast the 4, fuck it we could turn it to a casket show
Honestly Math, on a skill scale you Average Joe
You was nice with that heat so why’d you run into this Maverick for?
I had a feeling he was gon come here and try and cop out
That’s when I start squeezing I guarantee he tap out
That’s when he start bleeding as soon as these bullets pop out
The heart gon fail Math and that’s exactly when it drop out
What you bout 6’6”? It don’t even matter you still a big bitch
Talking tough on that field gon get you lynched quick
Cuz when I’m spazzing I turn Math into Madden, hit stick
Cuz for thinking it’s all greasy like a fish stick
I’m taking all of the bullets to the house, big 6
This shit, this nigga really got me fucked up
Like I ain’t deserve to battle Math, niggas acting like I lucked up
Talking about who he should battle, you niggas should shut the fuck up
Cuz nigga who you would’ve battled I’d kill
Loaded Lux what the fuck’s up?
I remember saying, “what up Math? I got love for old niggas”
Not saying what they wanted me to say to get here
I told you up in my first round I’m a gold digger
Now I’m exactly where I wanna be, now I’m loving my status
2 fully autos you could call ‘em my Math ‘matics
Any clip I fill Math can have it
I’m tired of niggas walking around like Math’s a savage
Walking ‘round like you’s a motherfuckin’ boss nigga
All y’all soft, you just the toughest out the soft niggas
In other words, either way it go you taking a loss nigga
I don’t fuck with Math so it’s not a problem for me to cross niggas
He had 4 battles, boom, everyone of ‘em… he lost nigga
He been taking a lot of shots and lately you’ve been off nigga
So when I go get that iron it ain’t golf nigga
This K will knock down the walls in ya crib
Turn an apartment to a loft nigga
It’s fucked up cuz my straps filled with flame
Make one false move and these caps peel ya brain
Even if you a wifey these caps steal ya name
And you ain’t a gangsta cuz the fact still remains
But it’s not thru Math, I chill and wait in the spot
Soon as he pull up, bang! Let that 8 straight in his top
But that ain’t where it stop, at the funeral and at the casket
With a 4-6 defense when I put 8 in a box
Now niggas wanna talk about my pops?
Why niggas wanna talk about my pops?
Y’all think it’s real to disrespect a real nigga?
He doing time in the feds right now and he done actually killed niggas
That mean he done left niggas leaking with the chrome
And turned around and got more time for speaking on the phone
You just ain’t a street nigga if you don’t feel that
So many fake niggas faking I don’t even know why I still rap
You already know how I feel Smack!
You better have that battle in Detroit, ain’t nobody gon get killed Smack!
See I just killed Justin in front of y’all and made him feel wack
Cuz it’s a difference between metaphors and real rap!

Follow us on Twitter @BattleLyrics

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s