B Magic vs. Charlie Clips [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Charlie Clips]

So they call you “B muthafuckin Magic” but ya real name is June
I just wanted to get it clear, so y’all got me battling a nigga named June
While we in June, on so many levels this battle isn’t fair
Cuz if I squeeze ratchets it’ll (B)e Magic the way June disappear
I’ll slap the shit out you every day in July
I’m trying to knock June into a different year
I dare you walk to my hood, let’s say around JUNE, trying to say hi
Them goons on the corner cold as DECEMBER, you better say bye
I brought a 4, named her APRIL, I hold that bitch yay hi
Squeeze April, a bullet MARCH in June and then he MAY die
June, May, March whatever, I know it’s extra scary
How I come up with these schemes
But I need another month to make it legendary
I should walk you to the roof and make you leap
Yeah (year) but that ain’t necessary, I’ll do anything to make Black History
That’s FEBRUARY, wait did y’all get that?
Black History, Leap Year, like when you extend February
Show y’all what a queer he is (Aquarius) like he was born in February
The deuce will give him one like it’s trying to begin February
But the 2-2 will give ‘em 8 like it was trying to end February
Nigga yo name June, that gotta make you mad Magic
You named after a month you wasn’t even born in, that’s so sad Magic
I’ll run in yo house while you fuckin yo bitch, load up that mag Magic
You’ll die while doing that trick, now that’s bad Magic
Yo style ain’t been hot since Shaq was in Orlando
That’s why you ass Magic
They know you gon die, ya whole career you been known to pass Magic
These labels ain’t giving you no looks cuz you trash Magic
Oh you sick? Well nigga it’s hard to tell, you like the last Magic
Nigga yo career is ass backwards, you started out spitting that heat dog
You was the man in the Proving Grounds, now ya career is on a seesaw
The only nigga he bodied was Rosenberg after that he took a detour
So I got a question
Why are y’all on Magic Johnson if all he could do was beat Raw?
But now y’all wanna give ‘em Charlie Clips
Well this a body bag y’all can blame on me
See he was riding, y’all had ‘em gassed but now his tank on E
I got a new tech, no duet, but it sang on key
I’ll rock ‘em like Sean Carter and put a ring on B(ey)
Magic I like you but you should recycle cuz every battle its the same trash
You got these fans under ya wing but this the plane crash
You put in all that work against Tay Tay with yo lame ass
And then let the Roc get rid of you, you Dame Dash
With this 40 I aim, blast, that’s a caliber
These bullets large, you should dodge, that’s a challenger
I give ‘em 30, you ain’t even know (U.A.E.N.O.) it, that’s a silencer
It’ll put June in a box, that’s a calendar!
These bullets will go thru everybody in yo house when that tool flare
They’ll start off in ya bitch, but they end in June like a school year
If they happen to survive, then I’m pickin’ up another tool
Shoot him first, now they start in June like summer school
That was “ahh..” but peep this one
I got a shooter named Twizz right, he nice with that cannon
Peep the way my G roll, I tell ‘em edit ya life, then he giving you tubes
No Vevo, I tell ‘em cameo, he give a face shot, you get a peep hole
So when Magic acting tough, these clips will make B roll
I knew y’all wouldn’t get that… you get it tho, I get it tho
I’m not a old head, I just like to make the young feel wack
I’m on my shit, this flow that made Verb chill Smack
They saying Ill on drugs, if that’s a one real fact
Then these cocaine lines should bring Yung Ill back

[Round 1: B Magic]

I will pop on a mark cuz my set go
Jump around and get beat fast like techno
When I re release these 2 3’s it ain’t retro
Walk in the place with the Blazer on me like it’s dress code
Tech’s blow, jump any cappa nigga, step show
Get blunt objects across ya mouth, let’s smoke
I got something in store for you dog, Petco
A liter (leader) of blood will run out him like Death Row
I said yo, Magic hands on like a palm reader
No stunting I’m upfront with it like the lawn leader
Grab the 40, Smack in a magazine like Don Diva
Hop out the crowd with the steel/steal like John Cena
Clips, these rounds don’t come with a time keeper
What I carry will leave him red, I’m in my prime, yes
Carey, leave ‘em red, prom, my rhymes deeper
Chilla Jones wrapped in C4, I’m a bomb schemer
Look, I’m at ya crib strapped, chillin with ya boo, we in
Ash Cash lovin’ it, she damn near moved me in
Heard the front door open, Charlie and his hooligans
Dumped at him, he ain’t get the chance to guess what room he in
My bad, I ain’t trying to force it/faucet, I spit sick, something Magic
Think I had a fuel card, how I grab the pump and flash it
It’ll stretch marks like card girls at Summer Madness
And I ain’t trying to settle down when I’m dumpin’ ratchets
Get it? Well this ain’t going how you planned nigga
Let’s see you argue with a Calico(e) like Hanz nigga
You can get ya whole Team Homi like Amzilla
Wouldn’t make it to the AM with a transmitter
See with them Disney ass bars, good luck Charlie
Factz said “I heard you had Bootsie” I said, “Fuck Charlie”
I’ll put some shells in the clips if he need the slugs
Will come we’ll open arms like he need a hug
See a thug, understand my peeps we deep clipper
Take the steel/steal and pass like CP3
If the first strap don’t make this nigga see we G
I’ll bring out another bad creation like BBD, bars!
Catch up homie, I’m leaving you, you gon need this work
It’s a wrap in front of these caps like T in Surf
I mean it’s iron’ll do more than crease ya shirt
These Clips just right/write for you like DNA when he need a verse
So Beas’ told me that Charlie Clips just wanna fight
“The nigga you said who smoke feet? You know who you callin’ right?”
Yeah Magic but chill that’s always been a part of Harlem life
Remember, Quik even did it in Harlem Nights
Set it up, hung up, thought of some mean shit
Like Clips gon come before the smack like Dreamwish
You better take cover with the sweeper like Teen Witch
Or you’ll be done before the third round on some clean/Qleen shit
Okay so you Charlie Clips, whose bar’s piff and very potent
But now you met the nigga that do heavy smokin’
Steady loc’n, run shit, Jessie Owens
He got Weezy after a hook like Kelly Rowland

[Round 2: Charlie Clips]

Charlie Clips versus B Magic, who could rap better?
You punch line, I punch niggas, I attack better
You black son of a bitch I even snap better
You look like James Tony in Fight Night wearing Smack sweater
Magic, I don’t mean to be blunt, but when we roll up
It ain’t to light up the purple
It’s ironic how this semi could light up ya circle, you a gangsta?
Well than I don’t need a rifle to murk you
I smack G’s like Mutumbo in a Geico commercial
You look like you don’t got a cell phone
You gotta email Smack for ya bread
You look like you’ll wear a parachute go jumper
With the lines that go in back of the lead
If I catch ya father, it’ll be cheap clothes when I’m clappin’ the lead
Cuz they’ll find ya Dada in Old Navy with a Gap in his head
We could’ve did this in the Lou
But you already know you would’ve lost there
Tell Rogaine I got ‘em, this lil nigga lost here (hair)
You don’t got my PC? Where the windows? I get ‘em tossed there
Everywhere I go I bring that Mac, Magic I’m soft? Where? (Software)
I don’t like none of the tricks you do, you can’t tell Magic?
I don’t care which craft (Witchcraft) you use, you gon take a L Magic
I’ma grab every MAG I see (C), if you try to spell Magic
Grab every MAG I C, y’all should try and spell Magic
I watched all yo fuckin’ battles
And I can’t believe you let that Young Kannon harm you
I thought you was the bomb and then I seen Real Deal disarm you
You should’ve starred in that movie “Where son lost to heart, John, Q”
Y’all know why? Cuz son lost to Heart, John, Q
Slow it down! I just… fuck all that, I’m beyond you
You rap like Conceited but crip like Surf, fuck is you? Con-Tsu?
Kick or punch line with me and see what these arms do
I’m real with the glock I even steal/steel on the spot like John do
Speaking of John John Da Thief, I thought that was my man for real
Come to find out he helped you with ya 2nd round
John John when he called you why ain’t you tell this man to chill?
Oh you wanted to play the Superman role?
You ain’t wanna see this man get killed
But if you take niggas bars how can you help this crip tonight (Kryptonite)
If you the man of steal/steel?
That line may have went over niggas heads a little bit
That was some of my cold shit
Aye Hitman let’s see if ya young boy can fuck with some of my old shit
Magic you want no beef, my fiends run for the base with no cleats
They throw heat, make niggas sweat, but they don’t know Keith
Ya block will see a funeral for the whole week
I’m on D Block and I don’t know Sheek, so when that laser spit
Hit ya fuckin’ wig with that 8 I spit
I was gon before but I’m here (hair) now like Jadakiss
Magic I been hot, fuck bags I move my trees in a box like tent spot
I got a two piece I call Tay Tay, come get ya chin roc’d
You better turn that volume down or I’m letting that sem’ pop
There pro tools will have you hooked up to a monitor, you a inbox
Now I know y’all thinking like “whoa Clips, that was no Clips”
I told y’all before that’s my old shit, now let me get into my cold shit
Wassup, where’s ya girl, rapper?
So I could tackle that bitch and have my girl smack her
Rob you and strip you bare, that’s earl lacker
You want ya jewelry back Magic, I got a better gesture
How bout I never return shit? I ain’t Devin Hester
You a G Magic? Well I’m sorry I’m a non believer
You go in jail a tight end and come out a wide receiver
So when I’m throwing bullets, you gon need extra men
100 guns, they ain’t see this many clips since ESPN
Now I know y’all love my football schemes
And I’m the man with them sports, yes
I got a shooter, right?
He want a head shot ‘em, send this nigga thoughts left
I techs/text ‘em, Kanye daughter, y’all know what that mean?
Take a short guess, that mean head shot
That nigga sending everything North, West
But that was lite Magic, I’ma give this motherfucker lead
Put a O in this Jersey and leave this motherfucker Red
Beat me? Can you believe what this motherucker said?
Y’all done slipped, fell and bumped yo motherfuckin’ head

[Round 2: B Magic]

Aye uh, Bootsie, Bootsie why you be talking like you poppin’ shit?
Nigga, ya homies bless the bottom when you pop the fif’
20 niggas here, 30 niggas there, choppers lift
50 niggas with K’s on ya chest, to pop C-lips (2Pacalypse)
You know, 50 niggas like that tattoo on Pac and shit
I bring sun/son closer to the earth that’s apocalypse
Convertible Clips what they call ‘em, his whole top will lift
Tell ‘em, this magazine for the hulk ain’t a comic strip
For real, I think Clips nice, but at the same time you gotta switch it up
If you wanna keep it the same, fine
Use mixtapes for freestyles then battle with the same rhymes
I’m a good fisherman, I keep catchin’ em using the same lines
The game mine, what I aim at I bet the heat melt
Buck a fif’ that’ll buckle clips like a seatbelt
Aye homie you need help? Magic got this four on ‘em
It’ll be morning when I open shop like a store owner
He let his chick watch the battle now she love the flow
She treat Charlie like a outcast/OUTKAST but he love the hoe
But I do wild (IDLEWILD) things with that SPEAKERBOXXX
That’s LOVE BELOW
So homie don’t expect to hear “cheers!” when I up the toast
Fuckin’ joke, I will smack Charlie, I’m Rick James
Punchin’ at 40 GLOCC, what you thinking that this a GAME?
70 Cannons, my nigga Twizz ain’t gon do the shootin’
You gon die if you wanna party like Huey Newton
Are you kiddin’ me? I leave enemies stretched
In the end he meet death, no energy in a G left
Knock his noodles, reenact John Kennedy death
When I take his life from him like identity theft, you listening?
After I hit ‘em with the semi, I bet
I be bubbling on the tube like a chemistry test
Punches, similies, metaphor flippin’ they sent him the best
Lebron, if he get the runnin’ I’ll give him a tech
Come at me correct, you fuckin’ with the best
I’ll off ya team punch-line, fuck a Conceited, you can call me King
Hot shots make a scary movie when I spark the thing
A major league sent a young gun to get Charlie Sheen
Fuck that, I start to fire like lighter fluid
Give ‘em wings with a mac’ or more (Macklemore) like Ryan Lewis
What’s a guy to do when Magic blazin’ the semi?
Magic duckin’ two different warrants like Tracey and Penny
I’m sick, call me DiCaprio, yeah I’m where the great gats be
(The Great Gastby)
And let two cross ya face if you feelin’ Scrappy
Clips you got me? I’m telling you get a gun
Flying objects will give ya whole area 51
See I’ll stop him from breathin’ for givin’ X hell (exhale)
DNA gon have “In Memory Of” on his XL
Shine, give ‘em that kick, I think he got that dead smell
I air men, the first nigga flyin’ like red tails
You better split before it kick like Van Dam
I’ll send ya team home going that’s a grand slam
So 40 guards if you wanna throw them grams fam
Big hooks to ya midsection, I’m the sandman
Bitch I’m on my shit, rustoleum, that lead spray
R. Kelly with this gauge you don’t wanna see that 12 play
Bar his life away, Conceited could be his cell mate
I cue ‘em outside the coliseum like tail gates

[Round 3: Charlie Clips]

They say I’m arguably undefeated
And this could be my first clear loss if I take Magic lite, please
Niggas just mad I’m so cold I get easy wins
Cuz I treat battle rap like it’s a light breeze
I get paid all this fuckin’ cheddar
And all I do is treat my round 3’s like it’s light cheese
Well I made a round three today so let’s be happy motherfuckers
Cuz all y’all know I usually don’t even write these
Now I done studied the word “Magic”
And the definition of it just take the cake
Basically it’s the art of producing an illusion
So if y’all don’t believe in Magic, then it’s fake
But see Magic casted a spell on all y’all, he got y’all thinkin that he great
This nigga could say a line that don’t make sense at all
Get a Don Demarco and y’all would be like “wooh! That shit was straight”
Like when he battled Tay Roc he said…
“The 80 will raid a nigga like Jerry Rice”
I looked at my girl and said “bitch, that line was very nice”
She said “but baby what’s the 80?” I googled it every night
There’s no gun called “the 80”, that shit had me very tight
Now mind y’all before that he said “this 32 packer ain’t Reggie White”
I looked at my girl and said “bitch, that line was very nice”
She said “but baby who’s 32 on the Packers?”And I googled it, every night
32 on the Packers was Cedric Benson, not Reggie White
Y’all see? Magic was never sick, this whole time he been living lies
Y’all gon lose faith in him tonight is where this nigga dies
You ain’t bad boy, aye, peep the way I move this crip aside
His bars was never no Biggie, y’all was hypnotized, well wake up
I’m breaking the spell for all those that wanna follow ‘em
These 2-2 bullets small as pills, I’ll make you swallow ‘em
It’ll look like Summer Madness, if my Hitman try to Hollow ‘em
The iron will spike his shoulders like Mook hoodie against Solomon
How you get mad at Roc for mentioning Kriss Kross?
But then you go and mention that Urkle shit, that was fire tho
How you open up on the front of his car like Urkel whip
See the problem is you lack performance
You gotta have more swag when you murking shit
Pay attention Magic, see this why ya wins low/Winslow like Urkel bitch
Speaking of Lara, I got a bitch just like her
She the baddest bitch, her automatic’s spit so if family matters
You should cherish it, she make this nigga cop coke
This nigga even gotta carry it
She stay home and make this gay nigga cop, she like Harriett
I said “he’s on fire!” in my NBA Jam voice this nigga is scorching
What’s ya plan, b? I’m killing you kid, this shit an abortion
I got a shooter that’s so cold, man this nigga is awesome
I text him “theraflu” he run in ya way and get rid of ya coughin/coffin
Hold on Smack, Proving Grounds? Where the fuck you find these dudes?
I gotta help shape ‘em up, well it’s serious the way I line these dudes
The way I eat cats, this ain’t a battle, this is Chinese Food
I’ll techs ya chin like a message to a Chinese dude
But let’s look at the bars for one second
Cuz this where I break down our rapping styles
They say I win too easy, so sometimes my battles may not grab the crowd
Cuz see I’m more technical
Like why uppercut ‘em if I can jab him down?
He’ll throw a hundred punches and probably only land 4
That make him Pacquiao, now mind y’all he strong as shit
He probably got a knockout punch that can knock a Ox out
But this the difference, if you trapped in the corner, what can you do?
Can you opt out? Like can you bop? Can you weave?
Can you shoulder dip? Can you box out?
Just like Pacquiao when ya punches don’t land, you get knocked out
Real Deal… Knockout, Young Kannon…Knockout
You went at with Heartless but you choked so that’s a knockout
Y’all all thought he would knock Roc out, man you fans got a hard head
Cuz Roc end up knocking him out, that make him Markez
And then Chilla Jones choked against him, but niggas still think Chilla won
So I know that gotta make you aggy
So for you to really win and then lose to Chilla that make you Bradley
I shoot this 40 cal and then I make him a goner
Matter fact this ain’t Pacquiao and Mayweather
You Malignaggi and I’m Adrian Broner
So now I gotta ask y’all right, if my career is way better
And he punch all day and only 3 will land, which one of us is way clever?
I’m just trying to explain to y’all look at his resume, y’all might say never
Next time y’all bet, don’t ever put ya money against Mayweather
If that make me Mayweather, I’m Mayweather in battle rap
And I’m Mayweather in the ghetto
If I’m Mayweather that make T-Rex punk ass Canelo
At Summer Madness 3 that nigga gon get boxed out
If Mook jump in to throw the towel
Then Murda Mook getting knocked the fuck out
So the moral of the story is, Rex I’ma have these bullets all over ya smart
I’m John/Q/Son doctors I’ma be all over ya Heart
These for them Goodz I’ll have ya body all over the Bronx
When that K Shine, it’ll have his DNA all over the charts
That was lite, but understand my nigga
I’m a hard fellow, I got a fiend that’ll smoke ya kid/Kidd for them knicks
He Carmelo

[Round 3: B Magic]

Well let me finish what you started nigga
Bootsie, Clips, Charlie, whatever they call the nigga
First take, now they got me battling his father figure
Kill Rocky ASAP, now I’m addressing Harlem niggas
ASAP Rocky, Dress, boy if you try to trip stomp him out
Dancing on the ceiling like I’m Lionel Rich
Keep the can toasty tho, yeah I bet this guy will dip
Think of Charlie Chaplin when I show you how to silence Clips
I’m a country nigga, keep thinkin’ I’m a damn farmer
See AR’s talking to ‘em like a Transformer
If Dana run up, B Magic gonna bend a bitch
Get Charlie stretched, that’s what I call extended Clips
I’ll stretch him, yoga time, open mine
See if you can think with an open mind
Boy I’m on my grind, couple hooks will sleep shit
Catch you trying to exit us (Exodus)
And I’ll push ya T Clips (Pusha T/Clipse)
They sent a grown man to come and save the day
If it’s Child’s Play I leave Chuckie with a stapled face
Even ya bitches get clocked like Flava Flav
Cuz my hood full of Gorillas like Bathing Ape
Homie that’s some real shit, you gon see that metal flare
B at you dice clay, I bring the cig/sig everywhere, I’m never scared
Run up on ya boy catch a four piece, sit ‘em down
Buckle the kid chest like a car seat, my squad deep
All blue, converse, Chuck Taylors, your rounds sound like
A Con verse, Chuck tailored
If I gotta get the heater then it’s fuck haters
Waving at ya BIG homie like Puff neighbor, wait I got some more cuz
Whatever I clutch deadly
St. Louis nigga that’s about to get Chuck berried (Berry)
Bitch I got these bars, this a taking of a life
B Magic, I’m holding bangers like I’m breaking up a fight
Aight, see I’m the type that’ll hop up out a Subaru
A Hitman, put you in a vault for a Funeral
When I say I shoot Clips, I ain’t talking movie crews
But I let it sing thru out Clips like a musical
A hard hitter, you don’t wanna find out what the Uzi do
I’m strapped, connected with them G’s like a Gucci shoe
You’ll get creamed for that cake like a Suzy Q
You’ll get boxed behind bars like a Bootsie do
Now let’s see what Bootsie do, punch him with a big nigga
Wanda, Tyler Perry, Charlie, bitch niggas
Short fuse, boy I’m hot headed like a sick nigga
Spar his chest with the 22, this a wig splitter
Who the fuck said this nigga gonna kill me?
Kill me? Bitch I got more bars than Bill Street
You feel me? Knock this campus bully off the damn earth, Leukemia
Take his wig off with this can, sir (cancer)
I sabotage guys with they whole entourage
I’m trying to leave this nigga whole team traumatized
I’m in the hood strapped up with the camouflage
All my niggas off the chain like Amistad
So nigga jump if you feeling Amphibian
I better not catch this nigga in the hood, Zimmerman
Get bullets all across ya chest, Militant
Caps fly, buck it/bucket on his head, Gilligan
I told him once, this motherfucker scared
I’m from the motherfuckin’ Lou that’s how a motherfucker play it
Beat me? Can you believe what this motherfucker said?
He must’ve slipped, fell and bumped his motherfuckin’ head

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