Dizaster vs. Math Hoffa (Rematch)[Lyrics]

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]

Right now Diz is like, “Finally Abu is spending time with me”
Let’s get to it, a battle or a fight? What you people really tryin to see?
Cuz I don’t give a fuck, either one of ‘em is fine with me
I’m a G, it’s too many hypocrites in this society
How many times y’all watched that Jones clip? Don’t lie to me!
It seems y’all got a fatal attraction for my variety
They tell me “grow up,” I’m Peter Pan they get fly with me I’m stealin
My hooks like piracy, but I agree, battle rappers shouldn’t act violently
It ain’t a nice look
But this is hip hop, so you could blow up with the right hook
I’m back y’all, haters form a line on my sack
So you could say you stood with me when you heard I got blackballed
My chances of getting a match were slim as a scratch off
But thanks to these wack/soft amateur jackoffs
And top tier niggas that slacked off
Now my phones ringing off the hook like Jones when he backed off
Let’s talk facts, before your first match I was that nigga
The click clack cap piller, that Brooklyn vernacular
I held you back in Canada, you wanted to scrap
Them white boys saw some Math in D like Mac Miller, you rap filler
Ya flow’s easy to track
If Eminem held a class on how Arabs can rap iller
I look at you and see a star pupil, you Jack Thriller
In that Total Slaughter match yeah I choked but came back killer
Lookin in my phone? I ain’t ever do that nigga
But I was watching 24 with ya battle with Pat
Cuz you choked but to save the day you ran to that Jack nigga
You was on the stage lookin all suspenseful
Comin off ya tempo, but you lost ya temple
What happened to that freestyle that we thought was special?
You looked in ya phone to read the rhymes Caustic texted you
Flashback, I catch Diz in a whip, I pull him out the jag
Chop his calf with a machete until it drop in half
Flip him over like “is you ready?” then I pop the mag
The things a black man gotta do just to stop a cab
Remember that? I should’ve killed you sooner
But I knew you’d come back down this road, I see the future
No, I’m lying, I needed Uber
You Jesus in L.A.? That’s cool cuz I rebuke the scripture
They booked the Matthew for Driveby a crew should fix ya/crucifixion
If you don’t throw a strike than Organik bout to lose a picture
I came on stage with a tool to stick ya
I said if you don’t throw a strike ya organs is gonna lose a pitcher
Stupid I’m talking about ya fluids nigga
Who you fooling? I was chewing you in Brooklyn, you just some leftovers
Escaped the belly of the beast, guess you the next Jonah
This where Dizaster reign/rain? It’s time he met Noah
You delusional, this ya funeral, you a meth smoker
Get sober, they gon say that nigga Math left BOLA
With the head of the heads bolas dead soldier over his left shoulder
You don’t got BARS like that
I know y’all like, “why he doing Akbar like that?”
So try not to fall asleep, you know his bars type wack
And I’ll be here next round to bring them bars right back

[Round 1: Dizaster]

You better not do something stupid
Cuz they gon lose you out in Cali, Math
After this we gon have a shooting battle from the Cadillac
You didn’t hear me, I said if you do something stupid
We gon start shooting in the middle of the battle like Cadillac
Now we out in the west, he coastin’
It’s Math Hoffa; accepts 2 battles in one week’s span
So the other one gets less promotion
It’s true, in a week he’s gonna step to O-Red
He has a death wish, let him go then, if he survives here
In a week he’d be leaking everywhere like Edward Snoden
Last time we battled you choked, d-d-duh-duh-did I hear Math stutter?
Long blade like this hands smothered
With all types of saw buzzards and slap cutters
Catch a butterfly to your mouth
Like the bitch from the Silence Of The Lambs cover, damn brother
This is the last saga of Math Hoffa
Hat’s off, he’s a slap boxer, why you mad?
Punchlines never land proper so he’ll put hands on ya
For the sake of shock value, he’s a black Blanka
He said if we piss him off he gon let the gat “Blacka!” HA! HA-HAH!
One false move we gon feed you all types of shells
From clam pasta to crab lobster to trash off of a can
If you keep acting like a trash talker
You gon get the large can til they start calling Math Oscar
You get your ass shot, operation Black Water
Watch Math drop so fast
He hit the floor flat on your back like an ab rocker
That glock in my hand cocked
You Will see clips from the Smith flying like Hancock
Damn Hoffa, it’s Hoffa doggie, back with another classic
He done fucked up another fuckin classic with one of his sucker tactics
But today it’s like a court date we all get to judge who math is
(Judge Mathis)
He went a whole round with Jones and no one reacted
Til he finally swung on him and that was his first punch that landed
Go get a punching bag next time you wanna practice
Instead of feeding your brother a knuckle sandwich
And shutting down Summer Madness, your words don’t connect
So you swing to get your punches across
That’s how much of a buster Math is
That’s why you never get no respect, what happened?
Why you wanna punk dudes like little Mookie and T-Rex?
What happened last time you came to LA? Where was ya reflex?
When you got water poured all over your shoes and you got G checked
I guess you could say it was his first time in LA
And he was still getting his feet wet
You socked so many skinny motherfuckers that didn’t drop
I’m somewhat amazed
Just off of that, I could call you a pussy in hundreds of ways
But I’d rather sum it up in one phrase
Ya battle with Daylyt’s the only time you’ve ever slept someone on stage
Shit if he’s an NY thug, I’m a Star Wars militia trooper
If he got his pistol I’m set trippin in a missile cruiser
But I got the pistol too, I’m a skillful user
“Click, click” you end up missing from the clip, like a hidden blooper
Ain’t shit that you can do to convince me that this kids a shooter
I’ll have the homie catch him slipping in his mini couper with the 50 ruger
Leave his brains hanging like Mr. Cooper
Than blame it on a Crip from Hoover
But fuck all the violence
You’re supposed to be a good influence on kids like physics tutor
But ever since your name didn’t end up holding enough weight
You became the biggest loser
If only you could take a time machine back to before you punched Dose
So you could see that in the distant future
You’d end up killing yourself like Bruce Willis did to the kid from Looper
Look what fucking battling did to you
Now every single camera interview they harass and they question you
How are you a real man when you let rap lyrics get to you?
You said you believe in god?
Least you could do is respect the talent he’s given you
And be proud with the powers you’re gifted with
Cuz it’s thousands of kids that would die
To be able to experience half of the shit we do, but you
You’re just a piece of shit I met countless amounts like men like you
Take everything for granted til the universe
Decides to snap and get rid of you
The laws of attraction is principle
But you never had a dad to discipline you
And tell you that as a kid, all you had was your inner you
And that’s what you listen to, but look what that shit done did to you
Now you smack every single dude that gets within half of an inch of you
Cuz you have to disguise that tract little bitch in you
With some type of (?)

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]

This is battle rap! Two emcees hit a stage
With no beat they compete with rap schemes and displays
Now some bitch ass niggas like to fake beef to get paid
But at the end of the day, he ain’t mean he just gay
And he don’t mean what he say
Like when you said you retired, I guess you didn’t mean that fool
You said I was scared to come to LA, I guess you didn’t mean that too
You said if we scrapped then that’s gon make ya team scrap too
Well tell me who’s gon block the shot after I cream/Kareem Abdul?
You a bitch! It ain’t enough ya battle see mad views
They respect you, but you wanna be a street cat too
Well I was tailored in the streets, just cuz I seem mad cool
You press me, you on ya ass like ya jeans tag Tru’s
Dreamland, snooze… wake up with ya cheek mad bruised
Teeth cracked, getting the recap, it’s that Summer Madness 3 bad news
Where ya team at? You niggas wanna react? Ooooo!
You lucky KOTD made sure we had food
Batty man, I’m ‘bout to murder the Taliban
Banana clips, somebody call in the Tally man
I was eating Diz wanted piece like a dolly lamb
You slip and drop that chicken parmesan boy it’s Ramadan
If I was hungry I’d beat up anybody hanging with D
Especially Okwerdz, I get the feeling when he hangin’ with me
That he’s so racist, his favorite movie is Hangover 3
Ok’ you come out of retirement I’ma put you on bed rest
Send techs in his mouth, BOOM! All you see is a red neck
I’m from the APPLE, y’all try to give me the BEATS
I’ll make ya fuckin doctor rich with no headset
Surprise you ain’t dead yet, you be taking all them methamphetamines
Do me a favor, never get blasted off of heroin
Cuz that’ll get you outclassed and out ya element
Cuz on Smack you was the wackest that you ever been
You battled Rex, round for round you got pound to death
Cortez put you in a box, spittin out ya best
Ars, you was out of step, Aye Verb counted yes
Now you gon catch a bullet in ya temple like Malcolm X
This gon be a view of what a Jew what do with Hitler
I’m using Hitler cuz your man (German) think that you’s (Jews) a nigga
You speak in person you be using ‘nigga’
I guess you Donald Sterling and ya Krack City crew’s the Clippers
Why you hang with them? They bang you out in the Crip house?
This asshole is like his asshole, it got a big mouth
I bet when y’all be sparrin’ and Dizaster start to wig out
After 40 bars (B.A.R.R.S.) Daylyt pull his dick out
Straight disrespect that’s how you wanted it brother
I take it a step farther/father and cum in ya mother
It don’t matter if I’m home if I come with the hunger
I’m whippin’ dog on the road like Dumb and Dumber
Cuz you don’t got bars like that
Why ya uncles be slipper skating next to cars like that?
So try not to fall asleep you know his bars type wack
And I’ll be here next round to bring them bars right back

[Round 2: Dizaster]

You try to rap to me Jamaican like you got a Rastifar Rah Alliance
But you a fake Jamaican, like Snoop, Dogg you lying (Lion)
Speaking of dogs I’ma give it to his bitch Bonnie raw dog
Next time he calls me Abu
I’m gonna invite her over for a “motherfuckin hot dog”
Listen pay attention it’s like hunting season ever since they run from me
I’m like the first shooting game for Nintendo, I was on everybody’s screen
I aimed at everything that was ever considered fly above from me
And even though they dogged me in the end
This whole scene started with everybody ducking me
There’s level to this, meet the game designer
You said you been thru a lot of shit, well you have a lot of kids
So that’s probably baby diapers
You think I’m scared of you? I’m from Lebanon, we raise survivors
Trained Al-Qaeda snipers, you do Drive-bys?
We do car bombs like my blocks sponsored by Jagermeister
I can’t believe they pay you for being such a basic rhymer
Safe to say you 35 you haven’t blown up
So you never be a fuckin famous major label writer
You gon be stuck in the underground for a long time like a Chile minor
If they put you in a cage you’d be an amazing fighter
He’s a big ass giant Cyclops
That hits people from the blindspot like an Asian driver
I’m bout to get rid of this Mathematician
With a thousand different alga rhythms
Made up of the foul decisions in life that cloud his vision
But what a knock in the mouth prove? That if ya rounds ain’t hittin
You’ll swing in the middle of the round and hit em
And show up without a second round like you did out in England
And maybe you allowed to, but not in our division
Out there they might be proud of you, but I swear to god
You show up without a round 2
Math we’re gonna beat the living Algebra out of you
And I ain’t even power trippin cuz rather what I would do is
Out rhyme you and algebraically outstound you
Triangulate on all of ya ground moves
See the root of the problem is there’s nothing positive about you
So I focus on the negatives and try to subtract them out of you
Minus all of ya foul moves and that’s how you
Calculate Matthew’s absolute value
We seen you against Calicoe against New York
We seen the whole crowd give up
You got booed trying to make yo style adjust
You made Cortez battle with Cal, got slumped
I seen Hanz try to get in Calicoe’s face and his ass got punked
If you take the 3 of y’all together and you add them up
It means half of ya squad went against a Cal, got crushed
Which proves will always be better at Math
Cuz we will never let a Cal kill us (Calculus)
I know who Hoffa, Math is, got everything dog shit backwards
His bars don’t cause no impact so he starts sockin’ rappers
Cuz if he had fire he would go lighter
And wouldn’t have to strike him on the side like boxing matches
Pay attention if he had fire lighter box of matches
Yeah I know, now I sound like all you faggots, ha
He’s a fucking nice guy, he’s not even bad
That’s what he wants you to misinterpret
He’s like Richard Sherman he only switches
When he gets behind the filming curtain
He smiles in your face then gets on a track
And quickly turns into Math the killing version
He’s like Dexter
Cuz every time he gets in the lab he becomes a different person
But I’ma tell you now Math, be cool Cuz
I’m serious, Math be cool Blood
You said you gon smack, you said Math gon do what?
I seen you the first time, we was chillin with (?) once
You stood up in the corner like you was gon do something
Soon as you seen him you was like “my dude whats up?” Fuckin fruit cup
I’m trying to show you the large pitcher
No, like serious Math I’m trying to show you a large picture
No like pay attention I’m trying to show you a large picture!

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]

This nigga blew up a picture of me with no shirt on, that’s some other shit
But I bet off of the strength of that picture, tonight I’ma fuck a bitch
But you, you dropped Islam just so you could suck a dick
Cuz ain’t no repercussion for faggots up on the mother ship
Now let’s get real, when Pac died, the whole west side fell in depression
When BIG died, the whole east side was mentally stressing
See Pac wrote songs that led the black man to progression
BIG said “Sky’s The Limit” before his death and ascension
But this is why they fear battle rap, cuz of how we vent our aggression
If that aggression is genuine this shit can end in a second
I still remember the question, is there a ghetto in heaven?
I don’t know, but after tonight there should be a 7/11
I enter the session calm just to sensor the tension
For them stacks I kick that shit I’m Benjamin Beckham
You do a lot of dumb shit just to get some attention
It’s like if people think he hard this nigga gets an erection
You a Arab American bragging bout a weapons collection
I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t sent an inspection
But since you talking guns, them shots gon be denting ya chest in
Arabs love oil, he getting drenched in the Wesson
See I came into this battle with the plans of a mover
You disappear from where you stand in the future
Reappear in the past next to a corn field and hammers’ll shoot ya
That’s how you see an end (CNN) faggot, Anderson Cooper
This suicide, Diz you know you gon die tonight
I’m like a steering wheel in London, I be riding right
But this was probably part of ya plan, an Al-Qaeda strike
What happens when a Arab’s rapping with black dynamite?
Iraq/I rack, putting bodies in Glad bags
I can’t even tell my pops what I do, I might get bagged dad (Bahgdad)
I heard Daylyt really box and he ain’t half bad
But Math jab faster than a Dot Mob ass grab
You been taking Daylyt’s style, give it back fag
Trying to stay ahead of the trend? Guess you a hash tag
You lost on the show and broke out, you was mad sad
Ain’t even say bye to ya homie, that’s a backstab
I guess yo ass really needed the guap
Cuz you ain’t pay back Marvwon for the meals that he copped
Cortez for the weed when you needed some pot
You ain’t even pay back Big T when you needed some socks
You bum ass nigga, you gave me writers block, the worst of this year
I watched ya battles til ya fuckin voice was hurting my ears
I put the pen to the page hoping verses appear
This is why I hate Scrabble sometimes I got no words for these squares
I mean shit be all set, I got my target in sight
But the shit I’m wanting to write ain’t part of plight
Cuz everybody spits the same and y’all reward em for bites
I’d rather narrate the Wonder Years and talk thru your life
But niggas know I spit hard but they be caught in the hype
Vers’ Math you get the draft, either a bar or a fight
So Diz gon stand on the stage and try to offer advice
But I’m 10 steps ahead like when you walk with ya wife
I mean Diz let’s keep it real, how bad could I be?
You took the bargaining price, they paid me top dollar
You even paid for part of my flight
Last time we spoke you was broke walking dog in ya night
So when the fame’s gon D (Ghandi) you gon be starving for life
You got a broke nigga swag, ya face says “I browse (eyebrows)”
All these fans and you can’t even count five thou’ right now
As far as I’m concerned all of us should be iced out
But let’s talk about how you cried out in that Bed Stuy house
You told a room full of battle rappers that you wanted to kill yourself
Cuz you 30+ and broke and can’t find a way to build your wealth
You had the same sweats on for 3 days, to keep it real or help
I slept in my jeans just in case he tried to steal a belt
Wake up in the morning smelling curry chicken
Diz hanging in the basement like a dummy twitchin’
Feeling fucked with no love, that’s the buddy system
I told Muhammad treat life like it’s Sonny Listen
One of ya mans got cancer and he’s fighting for life
But you’d rather take yours cuz you light with ya price
If I was him I’d slap yo ass twice with a right
When we die, we die as men, you gon die as a dyke
All you are is an emotional bitch
All you wanted was attention when you told us you quit
All you wanted was attention when you us that shit
Ya parents raised the blade you should go for your wrist
And when you die is it Atheist? And ya ghost in the midst
And god ask, “yo Bashir who told you to quit?
I gave you so many gifts, now I gotta kick his soul to the pit
Spoiled brat couldn’t adjust after growing up rich
Real shit, they’ll never take that from me
That’s why a nigga still smile when it ain’t that sunny
He was crying cuz he broke, ain’t that funny?
Well I give em a couple bucks, that’s that Arab money
You fuck rapper, I split you then spill ya guts after
Look ockie, you sloppier than a nut catcher
This how Brooklyn do, every time I look at you
I wanna put a fist knife bullet or a foot in you,
No! I wanna say… “gimme two loosies and a Dutchmaster!”
Hoffa…

[Round 3: Dizaster]

How the fuck do you cheer for the type of shit this dude writes?
Like serious, no punchline
This dude called me rich and broke in the same fucking round
You’re the dumbest dude I’ve ever met in my life
Math! Math Hoffa! The fuck is wrong with you
With all these stupid Apu lines
And the fucking lines about Arab women
Okay you wanna fuckin lie and be racist
I’ma hit you with a racist line that’ll leave ya mind spinnin
I will make an agreement with you, I’ll agree to cover up all of my women
If you can agree to cut down on all the fried chicken
And for once in your life actually try swimming
Let me tell you some shit that y’all didn’t know
About Bonnie and Drake, when he was about to take her out on a date
Don’t roll ya eyes cuz you got mad at Bonnie and you started to hate
Yo Drake was about to put Bonnie up in a fuckin suite like a little hoe
Why you think World Domination was booked
And we got ourselves a little dough
And the reason why she never met with him is cuz
He started to act like a little hoe and that’s why she didn’t go
And he getting mad cuz I’m like Einstein
I’m exposing shit about Math that you didn’t know
You trip I let the clip explode, you wanna act like a frickin hoe
I predict the shit that you gonna say
Like Charlie Clips when he did the Piccolo
You try to throw a jab, I side step it and crack Math like the DaVinci code
Stop looking at the fuckin phone you starting to distract me
You could play if you want to
But don’t think that I ain’t afraid
To have one of the homies pull a trey 8 and pop you
Bro don’t think I’m afraid to sock you
I’m like Edward Scissorhands, I was born with the metal in my hands
But you could still catch the fade if you want to
Fuck ya little fuckin metaphor, little 4 bar little schemes
I came to destroy y’all regime, I catch a body like nobody is seen
And show up to your funeral and stand above the casket
And dump metal in your box like a Coinstar machine
Yeahhhhhhh!
And you just mad and all scared
Because he thinks I’m come in here touching you
Now we see you last time out here dog
You were clearly way uncomfortable
Thought it was all Love & Hip Hop til Daylyt got on him
Did you see the way he busted you?
From far away that shit look like Stevie J was punkin you
I’m a war syndicate I’ll torture ya ass
You throw a punch and put more force into it than a Morpheus jab
There’s not a home item I won’t hit you with
I’ll snatch the plates, forks and I’ll stab you with it
Til your face warps like the Old Testament
Step on mine and you’ll get bone and a frag
Once the force of the blast will leave you with torn ligaments
Shoulders collapse, bones missing, organs attached to the floor
Like your cords been slashed with a rotary axis from close distance
I’m so vicious I’ll show up to ya pad like Jehov’s Witness
And force entry into ya door entrance
And Sulfuric acid ya bone reminisce til there’s no more evidence
For forensics to report to the lab
You go from shows with sold tickets to more victims
To forgiveness from the mortician to the morgue in the bag
From short visits from close friendships to identify your toe with a tag
But what good is a mortician
When all of ya toes missin, body cold as a slab
His corpse shows symptoms of rigamortis and cold stiffness
Like co defendants in court defending for the witness
Let me show you the Math
This is the type of hole you diggin
I told em if he shows up trippin I’ll be forced to hit em
Grab him by his throat and kick him
Take him to the floor and quickly force submission
Push his torso in grab his arm and Kimora twist him
Into a chokehold position like Forrest Griffin
I’ll fucking center in a fire round the home you living
And throw your sun/son in the middle of it like the solar system
I’ll expose these cats & leave em leaving here out the door straight limpin
I’m down to rustle/Russell in the house like Kimora Simmons
Just keep pretending it’s just jealousy and envy
It’s that next breed, they surpass him he’s (?) injured and they surpassed him like jet speed
He knows if he don’t do something they gon forget him like PS3
So he needed something trendy, why you think he shut down SM3?
Everybody from the event flee and Smack lost money on spent fees
But you brought this on your own selfie
I mean you brought this on your own self G
You wanted to have all the muscle in the hood you couldn’t be a normal mustang you just wanted to be a Shelby
Cuz your selfish, fuck battling you should enter UFC
You ain’t a real man, a real man respects his enemies
A real man uses his verbal skills
And only reacts with his hands as a necessity
Cuz any man can throw a jab effectively
But it takes a bigger man to know you the bigger man and to just let it be
That’s why you lost all respect from me
You could be the knockout MVP but you’ll never be the best MC
You made your whole life trying to be the one
But you just killin yourself over and over like Jet-Li
He ain’t no motherfuckin battling legend
He only has one classic battle with Serius and that ain’t no classic
He had to stab Smack in the back just to get it
You’re wack and pathetic, fuck the fans that respect it
You don’t have any ethics, you dissed Cali now you back out west
Beggin the same people you dissed in the past for acceptance
Cuz you’re a passive aggressive sensitive ass feminine faggot
Suffering from manic depression who’s mad
No one in battle rap wants to give his ass no attention
Even his own family rejects him, fuck, Smack don’t respect him
He only here cuz he got canned, before that
We never seen his ass on the premises
So this is all I need to back up all the tracks into evidence
The only reason you’re here cuz over there you don’t have any relevance
You fuckin waste of life, I should punch you in your fuckin face right now

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