B Magic vs. Tay Roc [Lyrics]

[Round 1: B Magic]

It’s B Magic mafucka, the show arrived
When I say I’m carrying a mil/meal it ain’t a lunch box
Bring a mac that’ll cream his back like sun block
Pop Roc(k) and roll, you think you rapping to a punk, rock/Roc?
What the fuck make you think that you could beat Magic
When all ya setups and punchlines are C average?
Boy I’m dope with these Rockets like Steve Francis
Have ya dome run in/runnin ya lap like Team Practice
I keep a .38, the homie got a dirty glock
Niggas better sit com/calm or at least catch 30, Roc(k)
30 shots, Gettysburg, get ya whole crew buried
Pop steam, give the Roc(k) wings like the Toothfairy
See I’ll give a Dot 5 (0.5) like half a gram
Trey block and (?) my lil niggas Taliban
Hit ‘em with a, “oh shit” followed by “well I’ll be damned!”
When it lift, wait/weight, I got that workout without a Bally plan
Batter up, somebody should tell you, you and ya friends fake
You acting and that ain’t well like Larenz Tate
Take this square outside and smoke him, that’s a cig break
You’ll be lying/Lion with a blue face, that’s Penn State
It’s B Magic boy, I’m shining like oily skin
This 40 no Joker, this bitch clowning, Harley Quinn
You dying right now, I’m probably looking like Charlie twin
This 38 die got them running, Harvey Dent
You know, Harvey Dent, Gotham City, you’ll get it later
Well I’ll get the chopping Roc(k) if I get the razors
Get the blazers, this just the beginning Roc
Smack him with the barracuda, nigga I will Plymouth Roc(k)
Cinder block, find me with the grittiest
Lethal, one punch KO, I don’t think ya gentlemen need you
I hit a dot in his eyes, that’s the end of ya people
And put a dot between ya eyes like the Indian people
I slaughter houses, that’s Royce Da 5’9”
You’ll get lead by a gangster, that’s organized crime
Testing mine, I’ll make a nigga dip that’s Avocado
A hook will make his ass spin (Aspen) like Colorado
I told ‘em Magic got these bars, the plans gutter
As soon as I stepped in the building Tay ran for cover
Name flip and punchline king, what you saying? Nothing
Sling a shot, I mean the King Of Pop like Janet brother
I get after that male/mail man, no dog chasers
Bust shots, bitches get the running, dog racers
It’s Wrestlemania whenever Magic send them 4’s
Cuz Rock ain’t ever seen a (Cena) nigga like this before
Cave gang? Okay, so y’all a bunch of 9 sparkers?
Thug niggas, gangbangers, bomb tossers?
No bullshit, this 9 shooting ain’t Ron Harper
I’ll have them shells run into/running the Roc like Sean Carter
I come up to ya roof window with a bomb K
Leave a stomach on the car dash/Kardash like Kanye
Boy it’s bout to get uglier than (?)
Have 11 Bucks shooting guards over mine, Tay (Monta Ellis)
B Motherfuckin’ Magic, nigga…

[Round 1: Tay Roc]

You told Young Kannon, “Tay Roc took you to a cliff and tripped you”
Well if I kilt him and he kilt you, you know what you into?
Nah, tell me, why they sent you?
If St. Louis was a restaurant, you’d be the cheapest shit on the menu
These punches you can’t block knowing Jiu Jitsu
I load up them magazines, you gon get ya issue
The clip so long it should say, “to be continued…”
Nigga watch your mouth, I’ll ice your house, that’s a igloo
Y’all watch how I do ‘em, just hold that camera still
His top get split 3 different ways, that’s a banana peel
Aye, when this hammer peel, Déjà vu when I spray my tool
You the first nigga this cannon kill
Man for real, who the fuck is B stopping?
You got 3-0’d like 2 battles ago, but now B poppin?
Let me catch B plotting, I’m gripping the waist
A pistol whip pushin his face like B. Hopkins
You fuckin’ with the right one, I’m not lefty
You said I can’t kill you? Nigga, do not let me
How the fuck you gonna move me? You not ready
I’ll advise this nigga B, bop cuz Roc steady
I hit ‘em with the cigs, the long then the short
Like Crystal Head Vodka, I will leave ya skull on a porch
Let me find out you snitching, you’ll get off’d with a torch
My niggas gon get B before he ball to the courts
You’ll need more than them name flips to beat me
He ain’t never seen Cash Money, so how is B, G?
What the fuck I gotta Showout to make B, see (C)?
Y’all got him gassed, once you see them pumps I bet B pee (BP)
On the other hand if I hook ‘em and he just ate ‘em
I’ll give B K’s like the Brooklyn abbreviation
That was light, give me a second and let me get it right
He’ll get a box, I’ll give B K’s like British Knights
I find it comical y’all expecting a classical
So I’ma give MAGIC A L that there is MAGICAL
Get close then give ‘em a Dose, that’s Mathematical
Punch him in his jaw so hard, I break his clavicle
Out-bar me? Impractical, I’m too tactical
Cruising round with a Tommy like Jamie Foxx in Collateral
No hammer on me, I’m stabbing you
Make it graphical ripping ya veins
Sending this blade longitude then latitude
We both animals, but this ain’t ya habitat
Y’all took a Cantaloupe and thru ‘em where a world wild Cat was at
Aye you trying to get robbed? Well there’s an app for that
Peep this, whoever I phone will get Magic Jacked
Get Magic slapped, I ain’t having that
I grab the mac it’s going “bladadat!” turn his Cadillac to an acrobat
You think you can beat me? I ain’t even mad at that
Watch who you eyeing, you get smoked for ya cataracts
So get a vest, hat, bulletproof car and all
You, ya family, ya cars, you better Armor all
I’m in the streets flashing double D’s like it’s Mardi Gras
Hit you then give ya pal this (palace) like the Taj Mahal
Got everything from hollow tips to Molotov’s
You lucky we ain’t in Maryland, I would’ve bought them all (Baltimore)
Bar for bar I’ll kill him, they’ll have to haul ‘em off
Take a risk/wrist watch, get clocked and sent to all them are (Automar)
Pussy! You heard what the fuck I said
You jumped in this ring with Roc, y’all know this motherfucker dead
Beat me? Can you believe what this motherfucker said?
He must’ve slipped, fell and bumped his motherfuckin’ head

[Round 2: B Magic]

Uhh… Lil Tay Tay, let me teach youuu how to spit the heat
No spatula, but I got some metal that’ll flip the beef
This Hulk-a-maniac, when it get to ring it’ll rip ya T
These Young Gunz raising up the Roc ain’t Chris & Neef
Get me chief? You say shit like, “Roc could get tipped off”
I’m pissed off that you still making punches bout Kriss Kross
That miggity mack shit, SLAP whoever told you that shit hard
Trip dog and I’ll stage a shooting like Rick Ross
Big Boss, boy ain’t nothing pussy bout this gang of cats
Hot slugs flying thru the cave like a gang of bats
Demarco bring it back, wanna hear a K spit?
Get beat in a battle on some DNA shit
Straight piff, boy my flow tighter than Wayne pants
Left hooks, then I start doing right, I’m a changed man
If Roc don’t know the rundown, well here’s the game plan
Have the bones hanging round the neck of this cave man
Know I’m serious when I spray cans into him
Yo Danja, dying is so easy a Cave Man can do it
Leaking fluid, fucking with ya boy Magic I’ll murk ya bitch
Open up on the front of ya car like Urkel whip
If Tay don’t stop mugging it’s gon be a fight
Dumper make Sweet Chin Music and super kicks
With this hurr in the piece (Disturbin’ Tha Peace) I get Ludacris/ludicrous
Come a-cross where yo G’s is (Jesus) like a crucifix
Spook the bitch, Tay Roc, you a clown nigga
You was a proving ground nigga before the Proving Ground niggas
Wave ya hand shake before I give you the pound, nigga
Videographer, I shoot you and the crowd with ya
Let me turn up cuz I don’t save pussies, I’m celibate
40 knockin’ you don’t got no choice but to let ‘em in
You sleep? I come in, peel cap that’s medicine
Start from feet, then I’m movin on up like The Jeffersons
I’m hella fixed, boy you done turned down the wrong road
I bet these 3 16’s will leave this Stone Cold
So try again like you typed in the wrong code
I’m Shocked G, I leave you Underground with this long nose
Well what you think of that? This nigga Tay trippin’
Niggas tried you before, but never Tay Crippin’
I’ll catch him outside, no need to dump the Fif in
Cuz the 32 clip will (Clipper) be banging, Blake Griffin
Listen, this nigga better stay in a Roc place
I Rush-more just to press a dent (President) in a Roc face
This combination that I give ‘em ain’t a lock safe
I mean when you get the BEATS it ain’t by Dre
It’s my place, what up home? I’m the new guy
Knife grip make ya wife strip like True Lies
You can get the whole 10 or these 2 5’s
Bring Pain/Payne to ya crib, my Tommy got a new job

[Round 2: Tay Roc]

What I gotta come to St. Louis, show you I get Ill
Tuck my trey pounds, Smack ya son off the big wheel
Tell ‘em holla for his father, I’ll show you the shit’s real
I hear a Verb out ya mouth you getting this hollow tip drill
Bitch chill before I grip steel
He’ll see (C) AR’s then spend his life in a trunk, that’s the 5th wheel
I don’t fuck with pork and I know y’all pig’s squeal
I get you a closed casket if you don’t keep ya lips sealed
You told me not to punch with you, I don’t understand
If this was boxing
He’d be the one throwing 200 punches and only 20 land
That’s why bar for bar you can’t fuck with this vet
I premeditate, don’t throw unless my punches connect
You wanted this wreck, well I ain’t one of them niggas to get mad
I knock ‘em out, leave Magic on the floor like Witchcraft
Ya bitch ass, you the type to let niggas snap
6 stars in ya face and spit on ya crip flag
You wanna ride on me? Well you won’t get past/pass
I knock a chip off Magic Mountain and take his six flag
Ya best bet is to shake or get left slim fast
No games, you don’t wanna be it when you get tagged
You wanna die? So it’s ya ditch I’ma dig
I drink Ciroc, boy don’t make me put this 5th to ya head
No, I’ll get sir rocked once that Fif to his head
I’ma serial/cereal killer Magic, tricks/Trix are for kids
To keep it G, we should’ve been battled
If I knew you would’ve wanted it with me, I would’ve been at you
Catch ya mom’s mom while she picking them granny smith apples
Give ya granny the Smith, how you like dem apples?
You ain’t know saying my name would get you long gone?
You barely beat Chilla, fuck with me you getting bombed on
You gon make me palm arms
Shoot the clip till it click/clique, click/clique, click/clique
Sound like the Big Sean song
In ya last battle I peeped some awkward shit
You told Juice he’ll be the first to get Roc’d like Charlie Clips
Well I’ll shoot ya mother, ya father, even ya aunts get hit
And you’ll be the last to get Roc’d like Charlie Clips
What should I start with you? I been on a mean streak
Suge, Kannon, O Red, Don, I left Qleen sleep
Knock the block off Rich Dolarz, I made him seem weak
Brought that broom out on Cortez, gave him that clean sweep
Out of all of them niggas you ain’t like that for real
Now Smack got you taking this ass whooping I had for Ill
You’ll hit the tile and all (Tylenol) once I let half it peel/pill
They’ll send ya son/sun flowers once you pushing up daffodils
So do ya best to look alive while you standing thurr
You said you was gon 3-0 me on that camera thurr
You don’t wanna throw the hands in hurr
I’ll beat ‘em something sick once these hands done
They’ll have to give this man-a-cure (Manicure)
Let me hear that you getting them dead presidents
I pull up, pop the trunk of the Lincoln, that’s what the weapon in
Once I run up, bend ya men (Benjamin) gon get the settlement
And you gon get ya face on a 50 like Jefferson
I catch ‘em on a Day that he trying to let his flag show
Beat his head with a pipe til it turn to a flag pole
Put you in the IC if I let the MAG show
Get it? Magic-Show and the eye see if the mag show
Fuck it, don’t nobody do this like I do this
This Saint think he ain’t got take an L, oh, you is
Right before his eyes I done spelled out St. Louis
This ST. think he ain’t got take an L O U IS
Light bars…

[Round 3: B Magic]

Yeah, I’m back on my bullshit, I’m next to blow
A lot of mafuckas gotta die, but you next to go
Boy when this metal to ya chest it ain’t a stethoscope
You gon see a space thru him like a telescope
Let him know, Roc about to die get the yellow tape
Draw on the next nigga who ask me if Ill is straight (illustrate)
Magic, disrespect me that’s when the show stop
Grid Iron Gang, I guess I gotta coach Roc(k)
See I don’t smell what Roc(k) cooking when he use a pot
To show nigga I crack heads I’ma use a Roc(k)
Put Tay to sleep, that’s a Roc(k)-a-bye when I shoot the glock
For trying to Jack Black I’ll teach you how to School A/Of Rock
I keep a Cal/cow boy for this Kid Roc(k)
You get a price on ya head, that’s a wig shot
Big shots, I will Chris Roc(k), need I tell ‘em more?
You Bad Company, what you think I brought this Lethal Weapon for/4?
One day I gotta kill Tay, that’s what the mob say
Well “I Wanna Roc(k) Right Now” Like Rob Base!
So go and swing if you feeling like Devon, Tay
I get the talking with these toys like Tom Hanks
You fuck boy, you fucking with the wrong one
You swing, a pop fly, you better make it home, run
A tip will bank heads whenever I zone one
Just know that this Tom Tom got a long drum
Dumb, this 32 Packer ain’t Reggie White
Scratch that, this 80 raid a/Raider nigga, Jerry Rice
Let it sing, “It’s A Friend Of Mine,” Kelly Price
Get the passenger 57’s, Wesley Snipes!
You wanna throw up? Bet, you all fight me
And I’ll send him to meet God like Bruce Almighty
Try me and I’ll clear the whole Cave when I blam a shot
Tay will get that Bambaataa, I’ll put you in a planet, Roc(k)
Wait til it’s dark to go bomb this bitch town
You won’t see the Daylight/Daylyt if you don’t calm that shit down
Yo bitch in NY? Say word nigga
I’ll take ya boo in New York like Verb nigga
You do you, I do me, that’ll make ya days better
Son him with one arm, Tay’ll get Swave Sevah’d
Shoutout to Team Homi, I ain’t come to play with ya
This ain’t the first time some Clips and a K hit ya
Wanna throw some hands? We can Roc
Call me asshole one more time and this Han(d)-cock
This my Undertaker, it’ll pick up and slam Roc(k)
We’ll Damien Marley ‘em, we’ll come to Jam Roc (Welcome To Jamrock)
Roc don’t need a revival so give Roc a wear
Cop new heaters like new sneakers, I got a pair
Tell this nigga Chilla, I’m the reason Ric got the Flair
It’s Magic, I don’t feel Gucci unless that Flocka there
I told ‘em once, these motherfuckers scared
I’m from the motherfuckin Lou, that’s how a motherfucker play it
Beat me? Can you believe what lil Tay Tay done said?
He must slipped, fell, and bumped his motherfuckin head

[Round 3: Tay Roc]

You ain’t smart, you should’ve known not to fuck with me
You under me, the niggas that’s over you, they run from me
You ever been in the 40/40? My bar’s luxury
I should make this FRUIT leak JUICE for trying to PUNCH with me
The hammer got kick back like Tai Chi
I let off 106 they got parked wherever Roc see (Rocsi)
I’m like Hova with a glock, when I Roc B
Aye Math, this Crip gon be the one y’all see (C) RIP
You better Dash like Dame cuz this the wrong way
You lost to Heartless wanna battle Con (KAN), what you on? YE?
Aye, I don’t play, this Mac ain’t Beanie Sigel
Once I roc him y’all won’t see him again, I’ll Memphis Bleek you
I take 2 Uzi’s then make 2 movies cuz
Once I shoot the extended clip, I shoot the sequel, do the Math
Some think this don’t add up, some think you in my division
I’m just thinkin where are we equal?
I walk around with a street sweeper, custodian
Spray the can till the smoke clear like Osmium
Glock click, cock it, pop it, it’ll open him
The doctor’s looking at him like a closet cuz they closing him
Go ahead, get Roc salty, sodium
The hawk got a blue steel handle, the blade rhodium
I cut ya face, stick ya fingers thru the hole then sew it in
Break ya jaw, once I shit get wired it get broke again
Charlie beat me, but with you it ain’t going down
Since then all I could see is Clips when I unload these rounds
If he see me on his block when he roll around
The chopper Conceited size, I wish he would Slow It Down
Here’s where I turn it up a notch, thermostat
When y’all find B.M. dead it ain’t Bernie Mac
Learn the facts, I’m not a crip, nigga I’m Cave Gang
We daps it up with the left hand, but we don’t gang bang
See wait, you was better off being a teammate
The odds will get even if I hit ‘em with that .38
Rat on me? That’s a closed casket, nigga cremate
Fuck a law-suit, nigga this gon be a brief-case
If you was strapped, I’ll backhand ya!
And dare you whip out a pistol I get you cracking cuz I jack hammers
Shots will show his insides like a cat scanner
We at his funeral 30 deep like the Black Panthers, that’s bad manners
Smack made you a marked target
I’ll put ya buds in a box like a Large Harvest
You said you’d 3-0 me, but couldn’t off Heartless
For selling people those dream you should be Con artist
I’m goin bonkers, every bar a dome shot, hat low, all in his face
This that old Roc, 2 niggas, 4 burners, nigga that’s that stove top
Magic had a good run, nigga that’s that road block
Y’all think he beat me? Still niggas lying
Tell you like I tell the others, I don’t feel niggas rhymes
Who he fooling with them steel gripping lines?
Tell ‘em fuckin’ with me, you’ll get Smacked! You on real nigga time!

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