Math Hoffa vs. John John Da Don [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]

You make the worst life decisions!
I’ve been wanting to do this for so long
You a virus in battle rap and I can’t let you go on
You steal bars, you stole Jones, you stole Hollow, you stole Con’s
You stole Dose’s, even Soul Khan, the list goes on
But that’s 5 cats, I’ma stop at 5 cats nigga, hold on
You took 5 cats and put them together, well that’s actually kinda clever
Cuz now I understand why your punches are all bites
You think you Voltron
Now there’s 2 things about you that make you the worst kind of lame
So I’ll combine the two and make a multiple choice
On why you stole Hollow’s name
Is it…
A) You was sucking dick and tryna get a buzz?
B) You was sucking dick and tryna get a buzz?
C) You was sucking dick and tryna get a buzz?
But we know the answer is D) All of the above
Now, you steal every fucking battle, so don’t tell me to switch the topic
On behalf of all the battle rappers here, you need to stop it
When we rhyming and you come around you know what we do?
“Yo it’s John John, watch it, watch it, watch it, watch it.”
When you leave we slam the door
Lock it and check if you picked our pockets
Look you doing this for profit, if you gonna take a bar from a nigga
At least buy him a drink after you swap it
But this gon be your first battle not stealing? You need a dropkick
Cuz if you ever had some hot shit, then you wouldn’t have
Wait a minute, you about to try to flip some of my shit!
Well I’ma do it before you can do it, nigga, watch this
They say the eyes are the window to each soul
In your eyes I see you climbing through windows to steal flows
Bars! I hit the side of your grill, you will doze
Wake swole with your eyes sealed closed from steel toes
I’m a veteran with a thirst for beheading these lil’ hoes
My set is among the legends, my measurements still grows
John John can’t see me in the ring: I’m Bilbo
Bagging these motherfuckers before they can feel cold, it’s Hoffa!
Everybody know that Hoffa’s the realest
Everybody know I solidify my spot with guerrillas
But you a faggot rapper, battling for the spot where the deal is
You solidify your spot in the village sucking cock with them niggas!
So try not to fall asleep, you know his bars tight whack
And I’ll be here second round to bring the bars right back

[Round 1: John John Da Don]

Math Hoffa, NYB, that’s what you rep right?
Me? I ain’t nothing but pussy, that’s what you said right?
And you pop off at any sign of disrespect right?
Fuck you, suck my dick, pussy, let’s fight!
Bully who? Do I look like Dose to you?
Speaking of dose and you, right now you 0 and 2
Fuck how you swung when he got too close to you
Cuz I’m a real nigga, you just did what you was ‘sposed to do
I ain’t Dose, try me if you want
If you want to play ground you can swing if you want
Get a halo and a fresh pair of wings if you want
A one-way ticket to see B.I.G. if you want
All I see is a punk, he get live on the stage, I’ll yoke him
With the burner like I’m frying the egg
Then put the clippers to his temple like I’m lining his fade
Grab the stock and cap his head like he’s tryna get waved
I’ll slide the gage in his mouth down this niggas throat
To show Goodz I don’t need Earl to make a nigga choke
Y’all gon think he’s signed to Eminem when I grip the toasters
Watch him get Shady After-math get Interscope (in a scope)
Math, you know that Yonkers bitch that you been in them flicks with
I ain’t gonna say no names for 3 reasons
1) That’s some snitch shit
2) She happens to be somebody I’m still friends with; and
3) When I get back to Yonkers I want my dick licked
The bitch blew my whole gang so we call her Tookie
She don’t let me port no more than I’ma off her coofy
Dumb aim, so I got a gun game like Call of Duty
These clips got my Smith in Wes Craven to shoot the whore a movie
These clips, Wes Craven, horror movie?
But these clips don’t need no subtitles, it ain’t a foreign movie
These clips will put this dick in a box like a porno movie
These clips releasing on demand like an ordered movie!
No more battles for you, this was your last check
Now it’s time to see you in hell so take your last breath
Thinking I’m an all of the above, well that’s a bad guess
Cuz I don’t need a multiple choice to pass a math test

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]

He said some shit about Dose and he ain’t Dose, dead it
You see why these niggas get no credit?
Nigga said he “ain’t Dose, try me”
But turned his hat backwards when he said it, that shit corny
But you a thief, you even stole Goodz’ chipmunk cheeks!
It’s body time, nigga this gon’ reap
This my 6th battle this year, guess you can say I made my mind up
School of Hoffa, nigga sign up and step your fucking grind up
I got these battle rappers like “Oh, Damn Math moving like Conan
Four Heads in one month, Jesus! In a row man?!”
This battle gon’ be the same: Jesus and the Romans
No bitches in my crew, we Al Bundy and No Ma’am
I’ll clap you with both hands, chop you in the neck
Back fist make you backflip then rock you in the chest
I’ll dose you, but I don’t gotta drop you for respect
I’ll catch you on your block late night, pop you in the neck!
You dead, brother
Now R.I.P. to all the lost niggas that watched gangster flicks
And imitated all of the mob figures
But in the Mob you gotta get permission to off niggas
And this Don is not lucky, so we can’t even cross fingers
But John think he the Baptist and Hollow is God
You wear his name, spread his word, he’s your idol, your Lord
But Hollow don’t fuck with you, unless you bible in blogs
Or Jew dustheads and can’t tell that this disciple’s a fraud
We don’t like you, John! You need to leave this scene
I’m nice, I don’t even need to be this mean
For murder I come loaded with 3 clips, beams
That’ll shine, I spot your tee, I’ma leave shit clean
That’s 48 shots that’ll make me see ribs, spleens
They asked why Son died, I told them I gave John 3:16
You don’t got bars like that, man!
Your family will never stop mourning like Regis
It seems ever since I battled Verb, what’s up, Smack?
Why these lame niggas is all I see?
I’ma start blocking you and Beas on my Caller ID
I mean, y’all could of gave me Surf, he got bars like me
But every time I face a Crip, you see (C) a R.I.P.
You don’t got bars like that!
Nigga said I don’t got bars, fuck outta here, them niggas lyin’
Sometime I spit punches so deep, y’all don’t get the rhyme
But if I tell a motherfucking joke you gon’ get it fine
Either way I kill a crowd like Boston when I finish lines
This nigga’s dyin, it’s over!

[Round 2: John John Da Don]

You got a lot of jokes, but where the fuck is your bars, Math?
Joke all you want, that’s exactly what you are, Math
You ain’t no “G” as in gangsta, with your fraud ass
It’s more like G-ometry cuz you ain’t hard Math
And I know my geometry really well
Like he can have a-cute round written, but he still will fail
Cuz if I fail his 90 degrees then I’ma give him Hell
So even if he takes the right angles it’s still an L
Fuck how you grew up in Brooklyn, bogart on blocks
Or how you use to rob niggas or what you used to charge for rocks
You better switch it up before the rest of your stock market drop
Cuz all they really care about is if you came with bars or not
So no old stories about how you used to chop work
You ex-security guard, that’s what he mean he used to cop work
We line up like the tip agency if you got work
And the second I send my men its ours, that’s how we clockwork
Seconds, minutes, hours, you get your work clocked
I might have to rewind this shit if you don’t know what time it is
Off the first watch, Bars! Bars!
I burst shots to get him laid in a coffin
You don’t need an alarm clock to get a wake in the morning
I’m A1 when it’s beef X steak I’m on it
You’ll get killed in this bitch like baby abortions
I’m a student of the game. I know my math, of course
So let this be the classroom where math gets taught
I’ll add bullets, divide his head, to subtract his thoughts
But I don’t need a blackboard to put Math in chalk
I can get you stabbed with hawks or pop off 4’s
This gauge- MJ: got a chopped off nose
And it’s blowing shirts off back and his socks off toes
Like it’s from Canal Street the way it knock-off clothes
A million views in: I’m a motherfucking vet now
These old niggas suck, I’m the motherfucking best now
Feeling disrespected? Ain’t no need to get upset now
Cuz I’m about to make this bully look pussy in my next round

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]

You said you spit gun lines
Because your fans prefer them types of punch lines
I spit gun lines cuz I really play with the heat
No LeBron references, I was raised in the street
You wasn’t, so if you got gun lines, don’t say ’em to me
Cuz you pussy, you wear glasses, and your last name is McGee, MCGEE!
You know how you sound to a nigga that seen shorty shot and slain
Everything go downhill cuz in real life that 40 Glocc is not a GAME
When Joe said he had to tell his mother that her son died, I lived that
Back when them bitch niggas killed Black and that’s a real fact
When I battle you niggas, inside I know I make you feel wack
Cuz my metaphors be hitting harder than they real raps
And my real raps will leave your whole character peeled back
Keep it trill if you really that character…steal that
But you want us to believe that you out in the world thuggin’
But when Bow Wow got a problem with Kat Stacks
He call you niggas up like you was girl cousins
Y’all niggas beat up bitches? Yo, son, that ain’t a trill route
You got a brother called Bart, right? tell that nigga to chill out
We should call you Lisa cuz you don’t own nothing you spill out
But since you wear glasses and follow Bart, I’ll pull the steel out,
Leave your wig blew/blue now your crew can call you Milhouse!
Y’ALL NIGGAS BEAT UP BITCHES?! Y’all some big bitch ass niggas!
When Young Mozzy was fucking up your brother car
Why you not jump out and get that nigga
I heard Mozzy got hit up though, but you wasn’t with that nigga
Cuz you bitch ass niggas ain’t the get back niggas
You the “get back” niggas!
But while your bitch ass is out there slamming hoes
I’ma need you to be clever
Bow Wow ain’t gonna fuck with you for long, your team’s severed
I mean you lost to K-Shine, you lost to 106, he’s seen better
Plus we know Bow Wow ain’t gonna stick around if he see errors (Ciara)
Yo, fuck this nigga man
Yo, Smack, you wrong, Beasley, sometimes I wanna close my hand
And smack you wrong but I’d never do that cuz y’all my niggas
But I didn’t wanna battle John, but now I gotta thank you for him
And I’ll tell you why I had a change of plans
See honestly food for thought, I thought you was a plate of spam
But the way you be promoting other niggas bars, that’s amazing, man
So eating John John is really healthy, cuz he like Raisin Brans (Brands)

[Round 3: John John]

Definition of a bully:
Somebody who uses power to harm someone that’s weaker
Now, would you mind if I be the public speaker? On some real stuff
He run around swinging on lil’ niggas so he feel tough
But please don’t believe his fake ass cuz he real butt
Dose was too small and you know that, nigga
You ain’t tough and Suge just exposed that, nigga
When he hit your hat and called you a hoe ass nigga
But you a bully, Math, why you ain’t dose that nigga?
All you said was “what you call me?” Pussy, he called you a hoe ass nigga
And what you do? Stand there like a hoe ass nigga
If that was me, then I woulda seen me fold that nigga
And get shot gun shells to reload that nigga
You tried to bully Arsonal, it ain’t look like it work
He tried to bully Pat Stay, it ain’t look like it work
He tried to bully Hitman, it ain’t look like it work
Now even though you snuffed Dose it ain’t look like it hurt
For what it’s worth, bet the bread that they gave you
You get too close I’ll give you toast that you can’t chew
That biscuit gon’ cook and leave his muffin on the table
A headshot will turn his butter roll to a bagel
With the burner he gon’ see these (what’s that?) rounds coming out
I raid worms at his apple (what’s that) rounds for a scalp
I can give him men toast (what’s that?) rounds for his mouth
And everybody gets a shot (what’s that?) rounds on the house
Nigga, you ain’t got bars like that
Stop rapping bout guns, you ain’t hard like that
Pay attention, I just said he ain’t got bars like that
Now spell it out cuz he don’t B with ARs like that
You came with jokes but I’m not playing tonight
You wanna keep it all rap, bitch, I came for a fight
So please don’t say the John if you ain’t saying it twice
And if you don’t add Da Don you ain’t saying it right

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