B Magic vs. Real Deal [Lyrics]

[Round 1: B Magic]

This white boy got me fucked up, I’m mad yes
Jab left right hook wigger trippin’ his ass dead
At his crib I did a number on his door, now that’s an address
I’m talkin’ with that hollow toast (Halitosis) like bad breath
This mothafucka a teacher, well you a student now
I’m that one nigga you warned them kids at ya school about
Prove ya wild, hit his class neck shot, good shootin’
Left his red apple on the desk like a good student
Boy I bust (bus) like LaidLaw, so feel this you better chill quick
Or Paul Wall gonna need his grill fixed
I’ll leave Real Deal in a Holy-field when I kill shit
You gonna need permission to slip, you won’t feel (field) trip
You look like you do R&B I know the Deal
Lift his spirit you gonna need another soul for Real
See I will leave Real dead that’s Overkill
You gonna need a super surgeon to close the Deal
See you a fag that like bananas in your muffler
Knock him out, then I drug Deal like a hustler
I’m guessing that it’s my turn to Deal, I’m a shuffle ya
Nigga I ain’t doin’ Real good like a struggler
I bet that shotty knock his mommy out her sports bra
Take shots you wouldn’t throw them back at a Sports Bar
Fuck y’all, bitch I will pull your report card
It Mustang (must sting) when I Fire-birds like a sports car
My niggas quick to blam listen to what a nigga sayin’
Bullets take part of the Deal like a middle man
You my little man you gotta couple hot lines
I signed a contract to wreck a Deal (record deal) like I got signed
You looking like I’m not the shit nigga, change ya face
I bet ya students used to whoop yo ass and make you change the grades
Bang da K, Boy I said these shots is not Tanqueray
Cut ’em when I come after Deal, like a game of Spades
I see his face I got his closed with them double techs
I had to make sure it was Real, like I double checked
I double bet that I bust his chest if he fuckin’ flex
I give him an extra round, that’d be sudden death
You are not a real deal, you actin’
I will box Real still (Real Steel), Hugh Jackman
I do classics, that bitch you call your Boo, stabbed it
I was being Frank with her and she blew (Blue) Magic
No aim, white boy can’t dump
Beat up your team by myself, white boys can’t jump
Real recognize real, see I’ll put a bullet in ’em
Real sweet, I guess he got too much sugar in ’em
Die hater, die now or die later
B Magic a couple grenades annihilate ya
I mean that bomb blow your van in the air, skyscraper
Tell this Busta what it is right now, like violators
Columbine when I spark at this Teacher necks (next)
You better have a Desert Eagle as a Teacher’s pet
How to come back from death? Try to teach ’em that!
For that Young Money, I Khaled (Cal lids) like We The Best
So Trevor look, let’s have a little discussion
This white boy, ehhh got some flow
But you lyrically nothing think I won’t kill’em
Yes I Will, like Hillary cousin
If Trevor jump, he fall dead like Hillary husband

[Round 1: Real Deal]

Clownin’ me for that teacher shit was not smart today
I’ll put it in Magic terms
I ain’t wanna face my dream with a shack (Shaq)
So I decided to stack pennies the harder way (Penny Hardaway)
Finally here big stage let me take this in a second
I need to lie to y’all, bullshit right and play to a perception
But I know the slogan Smack so to me that raises up the question
What time is it? Real what? [Real Nigga Time!]
Thanks for making the exception
So you Magic right? Well pick a card any card but that race cards a no go
I go hard, it’ll look like they put the Sandlot dog in the yard with Todo
I got this from the Boroughs to the Burbs to the Hearts of Soho
With your bird perched on my wood like the Cardinal’s Logo
You gon get the message behind these bars like I flew you a kite
You look starry eyed don’t let that flag confuse you with stripes
Christian Laettner I Do Nothing Civil what I do with this right
Put Magic in the air like a beautiful night
But wait you Black Magic though right? Like you running with Haitians
Bitch your real names June
What the fuck were all the other governments taken?
You were supposed to be a Jun-ior but his Mom ain’t know the Who? What? Or the date an
So his Mother just named him after the month that she made him
You right I’m a school teacher I knew he’d make that shit clear
I never said I was a gangster never claimed to be a goon or did years
I seen him talking shit on Twitter doe, I started fuming with the fifth near
My teacher voice kicked in like, “I can’t wait for June to get here!”
You said bar for bar no one can fuck wit’chu, I’m going beyond that
Alcoholic mind set I heard bar let me show you what’s on tap
You? Something light, bunch of rapping about Crippin’ and gunfiring
You never had the heart for rollin’ rock (Rolling Rock)
Tried actin like flippin that bud wiser (Budweiser)
You rep that Blue Ribbon behind the kin but if this clown wants beef
I’ll twist Magic cap shit pouring out Magic hat, yeah this rounds on me
I don’t mean that legendary Philly crew
But you should’ve stuck to your roots for now
Been humble on your Quest and fucked with the Proving Grounds
You had a shot and blew it now you think you can trash talk
Cause you could Dice Raw you get the Deal
I could give a fuck what Black Thought
Furthermore, I give a flying fuck about the crew that you bang with cuz
I’ll show up White Boy wasted in the Lou off the The Bankers Club
Yeah you gangsta tough before you could shot at me bang the snub
I’m a yank his cuffs and go for a scoop like an anchor does
Greco Roman I ain’t letting go his clique is wiggin’ out
Concerned for you he’s turning blue, guess he’s really crippin’ now
They taken wagers in your town, they bet that you won’t win a round
Even your bitch put cheese on the Cracker
So I’m heading to the Ritz to pound
This that White Trash shit I spit like I chew Skoal
Teacher said don’t bring that old school shit to the new school
Smack set him up I’ll crack him just like I shoot pool
And stomp in a divot in (dividend) his head as deep as a soup bowl
I don’t shot though I know the type that’ll outline Black if you bold
Play that part you’ll end up in a cast for that new role
It’s like a bad movie, His bullet full of holes
And this mothafucka will be in the Washington Post
Covered with bullets like Manute Bol

[Round 2: B Magic]

You don’t want no parts of this nigga trust me
Fuck Officer Hoyt, I’m bout to do you ugly
Out here in Milwaukee playin’ Miami, I mean I Bucks Heat
And give a white boy 21 if he Jumps Street
I’m happy you came confident you gonna need the heart
Cuz when these heaters spark, get the gauge jumping and breathing hard
Cuz I don’t leave home without it, it’s like a Visa Card
Strapped with a Lisa (at least a) Maggie and let it speak to Bart
You wanna battle claw your face with an Allen key, blast the heat
Feed your son a meal like he asked to eat
White boy that’s not a gang you in, that’s a faculty
New kicks, I’ll have’em runnin’ nose like Allergies
A GrindTimer on Smack you feel invincible
I will Shadowkick Johnny Cage they told me finish you
I kick ya door up, B Magic what the fuck has got into you
Go to office kids (off his kids) like I sent ’em to the principal
So take a look in the mirror you just a parrot shook
You got that “howdy partner let’s get a beer” look
I’m from the block, you stop, get popped and ya gear took
Put a teacher head in a box just like a yearbook
But homie listen yo this ain’t the Andy Griffith Show
They wanna hear that missile blow, pistol smoke, bitch and hoes
I’m real to Real (reel to reel), catch a clip in this bitch will know
A couple shots have Real (reel) spinning like a fishing pole
Who let the police in this bitch?
Who let the police in this bitch? I’m pissed off
He bitch y’all, everything he say he should get paused
Tell them people in your shirt they should get lost
Before I put a clip across (Clipper) your chest like Chris Paul
Get this honkey off stage before I smack a wigger
Ya butterfly, watch your moth (mouth), this caterpillar (cat will peel ya)
All these guns made of plastic, they action figures
Just copped one from Cucamonga, it’s a cracker killa
Am I the meanest? Shit am I a beast?
I show guns let’s see you catch a hollow with your teeth
See we can get them hands up, follow to the street
And you wood (would) get stumped (stomped) like the bottom of a tree
You could get your ass capped (ASCAP) I’m the publisher
All them other battles you won you was lucking up
This time you fuckin’ with a motherfucker that’ll fuck you up
And put your white skull on ya shirt like the Punisher
Catch a jab and now let me get that hook out
You like to study? Well soon as you see them techs, book (textbook) out
In the hood you probably be a lookout for a lookout
I’ll let that heat wave over your grill, like a cookout
You tryin to portray the shit that we live by
I hope the audience realize that Real lies
All that tough talk, Real lies so push out
That one hollow will leave dumb Donald with a Mushmouth
Big extendo on that Art, you do the math
Take his gyms, bang drums this music class
That .38 Special Ed when I shoot his ass
I’m a clock and get it like science that’s how you school his ass

[Round 2: Real Deal]

Disrespectful up and comers, that kinda shits the worst
Yell anything from the sideline and try to get some burn
You had like three decent battles Remy didn’t try and ripped this herb
Young Kannon pulled Magic card like a Science Fiction nerd
You a punchline rapper it’s the same thing whenever he spit
2nd 4th and 8th bar be hot, 1st 3rd and 7th is shit
That’s why I don’t feel you, you punch crazy, check what the Deal do
JFK Malcolm X style pen game, the setup will kill you
But he’s so gangster let him tell his cell in prison kept him in shackles
Bitch we can tell you soft from the television you reference in battles
This dude referenced Archie Bunker, Ellen, Saved By The Bell
The problem I have’s the cast
There’s like two black people in all them shits combined
And the broad is half and half
We supposed to believe you type lethal
That you pack 9s Eagles and Glocks
Bitch you on house arrest, on the couch in sweats
Watching TV too white For white people to watch
Tell me he ain’t the type to think it’s hard to say some shit like
10 Things I Hate About you Mean Girls you Clueless bout The Notebook
Roll up on his Bride’s Maid’s and Twilight
See if he Swayze with that Ghost look
He gon’ get the crowd and amped like it’s over he’s dead!
Real G’s don’t watch that shit that ain’t go over nobody’s head
But he said bar for bar doe, so I clicked your shit and gave it some views
A lot of pause worthy shit come out your mouth Magic
You got some ‘splainin to do
You said, correct me if I’m wrong, “I stay fuckin strapped like a Stud slut”
That imagery’s so gay the whole punchlines fucked up!
You told Scriptz who’s another man
You was “fuckin him on cam like a sextape”
Nah I get it cuz like it was a b… Nonono no! that’s just gay
You said, correct me if I’m wrong, “I’ll show you the strap like I got a ass”
Said it! Once again, gay as hell, being a crip from St. Louis is not a pass
You said, “I got a safe box I could deposit you in”
Now I don’t know what the fuck he thought
Guess that’s why they call him Magic, always shoving someone in his box
It ain’t a Magic trick, Magic trick’s begging for that magic stick
On his knees in front of flames like Jimmi Hendrix on an acid trip
Magnum clips, bitch you like them dudes that have that magnum fit
You took in so much pieces
Asshole could probably pass a fist (pacifist), Pause
Cuz I’m stunned someone as soft as you made it in the crips still
I heard them gangs is serious, they take hazing as a big deal
They tried to jump you in like a man and you came out with that Windmill
So they sexed him in like a bitch, his initiation was a crip drill
And they did it at the Holiday Inn
Homie you so fruity if you died police would seal the scene in bubble tape
Your homie’s would be pouring Hi-C out at your fuckin’ wake
You’re fuckin fake, you talk it but you sweeter than a funnel cake
The real Magic’s beating Aids right now, you died from a tummy-ache

[Round 3: B Magic]

Who lied to you saying this was gonna be a sick bout?
It’s bitch in you, my job is bringing the bitch out
I’m at your funeral blue Dickies and Chucks, cripped out
At your burial watch me lower Deal like discounts
You got me pissed now, get whooped copper, the hook proper
Hook drop ya, you’ll see defeat (the feet) like a foot doctor
Left right, left right, right jab bitch I’m a good boxer
Magic will put Deal on a Tee like Footlocker
Flow sick and my name flips, legendary
I will smack you for everyday in the Month of February
Me lose to this fuckin bum, Neverary (never worried)
You lost bitch, I’m a fucking boss like a secretary
I told your mom let’s make a Deal and you got made
Good teacher but on cam I pop K’s
You don’t know the actually meaning of being block raised
I’ll give you the business Deal, that’s a stock trade
I’ll walk up on him like what’chu wan’ nigga
Fuckin fruit loop, get you threw in a Yukon nigga
When that 4 bust you will fold up like a futon nigga
I’ll put Deal in the newspaper, that’s a coupon nigga
It’s just not a good move coming after Magic
Bodybag, Smack I ain’t tryna have a classic
Fuck a gun line you actually gonna have to pack it
Think I pledge Alpha Si when I Cappa (cap a) jacket
First you see the gunpoint, then you hurr the shell
I heard you was teacher, a coach and a queer as well
Grab the ball bat and cream your face like Clearasil
I’m tryna knock 50% off like a clearance sell
See you a fun boy with feminine ways
A hundred bucks say hundred bucks of Benjamin face
It’ll take your face off, run up, buck I send ’em and break
Fear to your ribs, now that’s how you Nicholas Cage (nickel his cage)
Pussy gimme yo wallet and be still
I’ll dump til I break the pump like cheap Heels
Bet somethin’, I’ll double ‘em (M) G, Like Meek Mill
Cypress Hill, my niggas Sen Dog Muggs, but B-Real
So you a teacher huh, educated vet
I’m flippin out and I ain’t took my medication yet
Catch you with your soul mate put the metal to ya neck
Then I get S to mate (estimate) like an educated guess
I see you faker then something you call fear
I will stab you in them satellite dishes you call ears
I will walk up to your face like fuck you we all here
Check the squad I got a team of shooters like Paul Pierce
I up the glock for the money, that’s a Fundraiser
You ain’t close to being close to a gun blazer
You niggas hesitate to shoot, pump fakers
I zoom zoom and boom boom with the rump shakers
I said once, these mothafuckers scared
I’m from the mothafuckin Lou that’s how a mothafucka play it
Beat me can you believe what this mothafucker said
He must have slipped, fell and bumped your mothafuckin’ head

[Round 3: Real Deal]

I really don’t give a damn what this mothafucker said
You said you a boss like a secretary
You must’ve slipped bumped and hit your mothafuckin’ head
Stop it with the white boy shit cuz I’m a grown ass man son
I fathered so many of you damn bums I could have a grown ass grandson
I don’t tote that handgun but if I did it’d be clutched tight
I’d show you the butt like, Pow!
And pistol whip a broad like you Pun’s wife
Gash open up above his eye so it’s just right when it leak down
This crip’s gonna be seeing his blood type
You a punchline rapper but some of your shit is even tough
You said, “That choppa’ll knock him down for that extra shit
And a shotty’ll knock him up like a pregnant chick”
I am a fan, but I’m at your little sister’s shower for the baby she’s carrying
With a size 4 shoe box so you able to bury him
No anesthetics just a rusty blade for Caesarean
Pull him out and take his wig off like a Native American
Translation: “He get scalped like Rams tickets”
Blood everywhere, there’s a pool, you can stand in it
They said he’s sick as hell to me that’s Sickle-cell, I just can’t get it
They gave you White Bread, now homie you’re gettin Ham with it
I’m gonna let him go head and sleep on me, he gon sleep on me
Cuz I dont got that Street Status like you
Let’s compare what a gangbanger and a pissed off cracker would do
Blue bandanas do a drive by over beef they had with a crew
You kill them they kill you, you lucky if it catch The Tribune
Blue collar White dudes work them desk jobs
They seem so pleasant and rational too
Then one day you fuckin’ snap cuz your boss keeps hassling you
You walk in with a trench coat fully automatics and Boom!
You shoot up the whole fuckin building up, it’s National News!
So I would think about that shit before you push on me
I don’t know what kinda Magic dust you hooked on B
Slump him with that over hand his whole hood gon’ see
Even Murphy Lee’s gon’ say, “That’s what the hook gon be?!”
Watching you is like a Republican debate, a lot of boring bullshit
You gotta get amped Fam
You a crip and a Bloodsport so I gotta be Van Dam
If you got a sign up it’s probably at Band camp
If your city’s on your back? Bitch, it’s probably a tramp stamp
What’s all this stupid shit I hear about on talks of a turf war
If St. Louis was a video game you wouldn’t be the Boss on the first board
That’s why every battle he goes to he got the Gatorade with him
St. Louis ya’ll know the rosters full
Why you keep tellin’ little homie play your position?
I mean you rep that Final Four y’all ain’t gonna make it to the big dance
Ill bring the ball up court Will will play da hit man
Verb and Remy run the Guards and push the play to Hitman
As he comes off the bench fam you aint even the sixth man
But what do I know.. Listen… I .. I.. Listen doe…
Listen tho.. I don’t know… I don’t know
I don’t know about the streets, I just.. I don’t know… But… I don’t know..
I don’t know about the streets but please tell me if I’m right then
When you lose all respect in your hood
Is like the day when a gangster’s life ends
Ok so, what happens when the Black dude goes up against the White dude and the White wins
Aight then! But yo homies… they killed my bar…
But yo homies be calling me Light-skinned!

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