Serius Jones vs. Murda Mook [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Serius Jones]

I’m a tell y’all a true story as god is my witness
See I was chillin’ in the crib minding my business
When I get a phone call private and I’m like, “Yo who the fuck is this?”
Now I ain’t gon say no names, but he like
“I called you 3 times you ain’t call back
Anyways, what’s good with my nigga Murda Mook?”
I’m like, “who the lil big nose dude that be battling on smack?”
He like yeah well he wanna battle you on smack
So I’m like man why is this nigga even still battling? His songs wack
This nigga need to record a hot track, get a contract
Get off my sack and fall back
See and he like “nah see he wanna battle you cuz
you the only other nigga good enough”
So you know what I asked him right
“well how much gwap this nigga talking bout putting up?”
He like well it’s on you, you know this is all true smack
You know what this fraud do?
See we was supposed to battle on new years eve,
But this bitch ass nigga cancelled talking bout he caught the flu
Now when I seen that I’m like yo, this nigga’s a shame
I mean he can’t even get in the game for a slave deal
For a whip and a chain
Cuz only time you put ice on ya wrist is when it get sprained
Any only time you get ya dick wet is when you piss in the rain
See this a tragedy, you getting burnt quicker than a calorie
Ain’t this the same shit he played with Cassidy?
You see my grinding now you wanna crawl out ya lil rat hole to battle me
But see I’m stacking
My grind heavy I’m eating meals off these labels checks
This bitch ass nigga been on smack 6 times already
And you still ain’t got a deal on the table yet
See you aint got harlem with you, cuz none of ya bars official
You just over stunt and lie on every rap, see that’s the problem with you
How you gon talk about flipping cakes nigga you softer than a muffin
Even ya niggas know you frontin, talking bout coke
The last time this nigga shaved an onion
He was in his kitchen on thanksgiving making stuffing
See ya niggas ain’t force you to come clean
Cuz they ain’t have no dirt on you
But see I know you’s a school boy
You know how I know you’s a school boy?
Cuz I did my homework on you
Cuz ya government name is Johnathan Ancrum
He went to Fordam Prep Catholic, that’s a private school
What you think I wasn’t gon find that out?
That’s why we can’t buy none of this gon play that you trying to shout
Cuz you left the violence out ya life
Played sports and went the college route
So where you get all these bricks and whips
And clips that you rhyme about?
Come on dog cut it out with all these fictional tales bout digital scales
See that’s how I know deep down in ya soul, this nigga is frail
See he lie cuz he don’t know how to be himself in his raps
So he fabricate punchlines about gats and selling them packs
But see I speak from the heart, that’s why niggas feel this shit
Cuz I keep it real, nigga you don’t even keep it realistic
So tell the truth dog you ain’t doing no crimes, be you in ya rhymes
See you’s a homo rapper, you probably suck dick for studio time
Fuck outta here!

[Round 1: Murda Mook]

Alright Ms. Jones I don’t wanna be ya friend after this
So I’m a get this out real early, suck my dick!
Listen up, he don’t wanna see me get the pump, so just rap
Or you could end up gift wrapped in my nigga trunk
Lame fuck, stupid nigga, ain’t gotta group of figures
Remind me of a useless picture, couldn’t get his change up
See I see what’s going on here, you trying to get ya fame up
You battled Jin you got ya 10, you hoping for the same luck
Guess what? Ya lil plan is about to be messed up
You see this lens? I kilt a lot of cats in front of this shit
You about to be next up
This ain’t that new movie, you ain’t walking the glory road
Everybody wanna know so here’s how the story goes
Smack called me, I was getting some head
He said, we got a victim and it might involve you getting some bread
I said word, I jumped up and pushed the bitch off the bed
Whenever, wherever, tell me who and he’s dead
He said you know money that battled Jin up in the fight club?
Then I thought of you and my face lit up like a light bulb
I aint none of these cats you might’ve battled on stage
That had chest colds and viruses I’m full blow AIDS
I’m like that time niggas could say they could guard Jordan
Niggas say they could do it
Til they in that position and he make ya ass look stupid
The streets started talking, had me real curious so
We all see he’s nowhere near serious Jones
I’m furious, I’ll slap you delirious Jones
You bleed like a bitch with her period
Now niggas saying he’s ab and that I’m Mayweather
Whether tho I may win even tho im way better
Well if that’s shits possible and niggas saying he’s Ab
We gon resort to the past, meet Casa Su
The word breaks quick about me battling this, but you winning?
Ripleys wouldn’t even believe that shit
Ya people gassed you right, like “is he that sick?”
At the end of the road if you beat me, that’s it, right?
Wrong! Even ya own niggas know
This wasn’t a smart decision for ya career Mr. Jones
Oh and I feel bad about the management behind you
Cuz when these labels see what I do, they ain’t gon wanna sign you
And them niggas that’s behind you, they ain’t gon laugh now
But I bet you, watch this DVD, look hard into the crowd
You gon see a lot of ya niggas not looking very proud
And he’s an act he don’t rap he a comedian duke
You make niggas laugh, cuz well that’s the shit comedians do
I got it all, look at my last battles for proof
My bars make niggas go “wooo! That lil nigga there is the truth”
I go from Sicily to Brooklyn, Harlem to Hong Kong, Belgium to the Bronx
From the Bronx I be long gone
His man a bitch somebody throw him some palm palms
It ain’t gone miss when I throw silver in ya long johns
I’m what the streets buzzin, it’s Murda Mook everywhere
This dick head probably telling niggas he my cousin
Easy man!

[Round 2: Serius Jones]

Now y’all see this nigga been in the crib for 2 weeks
Writing rhymes for me
But see I don’t rap about nines and keys
And all that shit obviously it don’t apply to me
But see yeah my squad gutter, but when I say I’m a chop up ya grams
I ain’t talking bout that hard butter, I’m talking bout ya moms mother
See you acting in front of this camera
But this ain’t a movie or a spike thing
But you like Spike in that old movie
You’s a delivery boy Mookie so do the right thing
And don’t start acting crazy tho nahmean?
Cuz you could die over this music, just like Radio Raheem
See I could tell you’s a loser cuz you hate when I win
And I could fit that lil change you got in the bank on some timbs
You go on dates, I put some haze in the wind, maybe some Gin
Let my kids spray on her chin while I’m spanking her friend
See you faker than Jin, I’ll spit in ya face and have you tasting my phlegm
Murda Mook You the biggest disgrace since Murda Mase
Why you think you named after him?
Choir boy wanna be a gangsta again, it’s a shame and a sin
You must be out ya cotton picking mind
So I’m a take you back to slavery then
See I’m hotter than them summer days
And it was cooking in the south nigga
But see I’d a been a runaway, you would’ve been a house nigga
Doing all them same antics trying to get laughs out the Massa
2006, they just an acting ass rapper
You must’ve spent too much time away from school
With them cracka ass crackas
See you losing touch with the hood
That’s why them weird lines be coming out ya mouth
Yall see him, jumping around acting his punchlines out
But sorry Johnny it’s no way you could harm me
Talking about you a soldier? Nigga for who the salvation army?
See ya clique a bunch of weirdos it wouldn’t even be fair if I hurt you
You know why y’all in bad shape? Cuz you got a lot of squares in ya circle
See I treat you like an old sneaker, reaching in you and ripping out ya soul
I’ll put a Nike sign on ya face
And they gon have to hold down ya tongue to lace up the hole
See dog, this nigga he crack me up talking bout he pop off
This nigga look like Daffy duck with his beak shot off
You lil monkey, you can’t be serious dog
This is like Serius Jones versus Curious George
See I’m a explain this, it’s not a game but its something like a sport
So just so you understand I heard you play ball
So I’m a break it down to the court
Ya ball handling is something like ya metaphors
Cuz you do all kinds of moves but don’t ever score
And you never pass the roc so what’s the hardcore act for?
The only thing you ever shot at was a rim
And the only thing you ever clapped was a backboard
You know my rhymes right? So I’m a tell you get out the house
Dog and stop repeating my shit get my dick out ya mouth

[Round 2: Murda Mook]

I’m the rapper that’s that street, I’m a farmer I rack beef
Me and my niggas pack heat longer than Shaq feet
Man this cat sweet he ain’t ever did jack shiet
Me my rap sheet long as a track meet
I’m superman, see I’m that nice, he batman cuz see his career fly by night
Now when we hear about Ms. Jones we hear he’s never squeezin’
We got battles so long you see ‘em you pledge allegiance
My chicks they like leeches, you’ll swear my dick bleeding
Cuz when they on they sucking from the morning til the evening
Now me I change gats according to the seasons
Winter I tote some shit bout as long as December
Spring, I’m shooting something you gotta put in a sling
Summer, bout 3-4 k’s and a hummer
Fall, fuck it we’ll just carry em all
I caught his bitch in Englewood, I said I’m Murda Mook and your?
She said don’t be silly you know I heard of you before
Jones bring all your battles home, he be watching you close
Out of everybody he say he love ya style the most
Back of my mind I’m like,
“Oh, that might be the reason this mafucka wanna rap like me”
Sweety give me ya number, gladly I’ll call
I hit her the next day, bitch sounded so happy I called
She ran to my crib with a trench on, no panties at all
She engaged in sucking my dick, so I had to let her marry my balls
Oh look at you, you looking all pitiful
Why the fuck you come here lil nigga?
I should spit on you, got straight disrespect for you
You nothing but a fake
I know how I’m talking he like man I should punch him in his face
Aight take the best shot, but you know after you try it
It’s gon be a riot, a lot of ya niggas dying
So the void of ya’ll running out of here calling for help
Tuck that pride away tough guy, keep that thought to yourself
Cuz it’s too many of us, you’ll get beat down quick
And whoever know me, know I ain’t used to this three round shit
I mean y’all saw me three times, that’s 15 rhymes
And in them 15 rhymes, I spit 15 bombs
But him he probably wrote his best three versus
And been in the mirror about three months rehearsing
Waiting for his chance now he feel his time perfect
He probably ain’t wanna battle just wanna meet me in person
Listen they call me Murda but my real names John
And see I double up 0 7’s but I’m not James Bond
I’m from 116th, I go to school in Massachusetts, I’m 5’9” 185 pounds
Now, you happy stupid? You not a lyricist ain’t nobody giving you respect
So let’s expect nobody to be giving him a check
I’m a lyricist, you go and put my shit up to the test
I mean Saigon did the P’s, I’m a do the F’s, check
This fella can’t fathom my figures, I’m fittingly fit for further reference
Fighting with me is a fatality nigga
I foresee ya future you falling for a freak
She fucking with you fam got you fucking for a fee
Filling her up with fuel saying fucking ain’t free
It’s a fact he’s fiction, he’s never caught a felony
Frankly you fake face it I’m finna blow
Become famous don’t know if fellas are friend or foe
Fascinated from my flow, feeding into a phase
If he front his fate’s looking ugly as Flava Flav
………man these fools phonier than foster fathers

[Round 3: Serious Jones]

See this what I’m talking bout here either
This bitch ass tall nigga cheerleading
See listen dog I see you done brought ya whole block with you
But see this is the shit that niggas should not do
See niggas are queer, niggas whispering in ya ear
Fuck around coming in front of the camera and it’s the end of ya career
See when I heard dude rap, I was like well he aight
Maybe dude could be on
But after them doo doo ass songs and ya performance tonight
Now you proving me wrong
See I’m the king you a pawn, you couldn’t shine with my jewelry on
And bitch drink semen while she dreamin’
So I put my dick in her jaw soon as she yawn
See she a freak cuz she thick, so she get fucked to lose weight
So I let her brush her teeth with my dick
And she use my cum for toothpaste
Now I don’t know why she give neck so hard
But if you wanna get his bitch to run a train
Just give her sandwich from subway and a metrocard
But see you ain’t poppin’ with no freak diva, stop it, you a meat beater
Don’t act like you don’t be coppin’ from police neither
See I’m cocky cuz I spit ether, did more dirt than cleats and I beat up beef
Like Rocky in a meat freezer
One body blow will probably puncture ya lungs
I’ma lump this chump up just for fun cuz you a bum
My fist is like a brick or rock, cuz it’ll numb up ya gums
Only way this faggot ever lick a shot is with my gun on his tongue
See I leave this nigga tooth chipped, you be limping sipping eating soup
I’m the type to rob Bishop for his juice, see I’m Mr. Speak The Truth
Nigga this should be the proof, right now you getting murdered
From now on ya name is Misdemeanor Mook, you know already
So I don’t understand how this faggot right here could doubt me
Tell the truth you was sleeping on me
Well now you gon have nightmares about me
See you was supposed to snooze, while we coast and cruise
Leave the polls confused, throw the toast and move, you know the rules
Cuz we stole ya jewels and hold them tools
Rob hoes and dudes for they clothes and shoes
See I’m a tell you right now y’all confused
But I know what kind of kid this is
See you’s a pussy, matter fact you’s a dick hard
Cuz even when you look hard you still all sensitive
See so you know what I’ll pull out the blade, give this pussy a C section
And yo Rex you might not wanna hug on this nigga aight
You might get a yeast infection
So listen dog, you know I got one gun one clips
Y’all done came up here scared to come to 116
And you know you can’t fuck with me, cuz you the lite ass queen
And matter fact smack get a close up of this nigga’s tight ass jeans
He talking bout you know what I’ma go off the head now
So you’ll wanna holla
He talking about these jeans is two hundred dollars
See that’s cuz you spending all that time with them crackas dog
And you’s a fucking comedian, talking about me? You not a rapper dog
And lets keep it real, you talking bout you got skills
But this is the eighth time you battled on here
Mook why you ain’t got a deal? I said it already but it’s the truth
Come on Mook
You spittin’ all this in the street but what about the booth?
Come on dog, you know I ain’t even got no niggas here
It’s just me and three of mine
But you know im nice off the head with these rhymes
And you know it’s okay I ain’t gon’ go past the speed limit
I’m a show y’all how to murder a nigga in three minutes
Now spit ya three minutes

[Round 3: Murda Mook]

We two different weights money, you ain’t in my class I’m super heavy
You lookin a little light in the ass, I’m on that get rich quick shit
Pipe in the mask, you on that gay putting dick shit, taking pipe in his ass
Now the reality is sad, but trying to go against Mook,
That’s like playing Russian roulette with a fully loaded pistol
I’m a piranha, I let my teeth sink into ya tissue
And when it aint no more meat left, then I’m eating thru the gristle
Easy lil man you gon pull a muscle flexing
I’m a blazer but I don’t come double breasted
You ain’t intergested, nigga he don’t bubble much
Beef he hesitate to jump in like double dutch
The X factor in the game is me, I was on low like the eyes on Amerie
Chill, it was just one thing that had me trippin’
Cats must’ve forgot the shit that I be spitting
How I break niggas apart I’m so vicious
Guess I got a put another kid outta commission
Wait, we gon take a brief intermission
Cuz I just remembered I gotta handle some other business
Alright, if y’all saw the last smack y’all get my drift
Them two dirty niggas from Detroit was just on my dick
See I already done ate Mile all the way on 8 mile
And that other dude was 12 bars before what I’m a say now
What they forgot to mention is how they live in my shadow
And out of all them niggas rapping, who won that battle?
They just gon be a bunch of could’ve beens like Joe (?)
Now back to regularly scheduled programming
Whoevers beggin’ this man, they losing money willingly
Cuz he’s not an asset, he’s a liability
If you ain’t got no cake you in a hating position
Cuz I got my bills up, but nah man I don’t play for the Pistons
You? Spraying a biscuit?
That’s a bigger myth than chicks that gotta strip just to pay they tuition
Listen, y’all prom was 1999 you a has been
You 30 still trying to get signed off battling
Serius its over, I’m serious it’s over
This would be more interesting if you was 10 years older
There’s reasons why he’s trash I can’t just give em an answer
But just know my versus get worser they compare em to cancer
I’m strapped with two black panthers, but they ain’t bout to rally
They gon leave his brains out in somebody alley
And when I get on I’m skeeting in Halle
And in my hood we’ll get you conned but motherfuck a Denali
You don’t want me on yo ass, cuz if Murda Mook seeking you
Bet ya own shadow will wanna cross the street from you
And I don’t normally battle losers, but this is a new year and a new day
He got two L’s under his belt his last name should be Cool J
How should these people believe anything that you say?
He never made a corner sale, he tell the tallest tales
If he was Pinocchio and spit a verse about drugs
His nose would be long as hell
Now ask ya man, we know why we calling him a chump
He like a car with a bad battery always getting jumped
I’m a general in the war I’m always in the front
Run in ya building if you want, I’m in the hallway with the pump
I’m ready for him to put the key in the lock, he hear the cock
Now he walking that long road with G O D at the top
Murda ain’t bashful either, he OD with them shots
He make it so his whole family can’t see in his box
I go for the kill fuck an IV and a dot
Look at his face he thinking why me with a shock
I dare you try to rob me in the spot
And he’ll be turning pacman all he start seeing is dots
Dot on his head, dot on his heart, dot on his leg, dot on his kid
Dot on his knee, Dot on his bitch, dot on his man, dot on his ….

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