Conceited vs. B Magic [Lyrics]

[Round 1: B Magic]
You finally stopped ducking, well let’s get straight to work
I grab the tools, ’bout to act a fool, like it’s April 1st
Fifth’ll blow, lift your soul, this is no, day in church
Sex on the beach; this bitch gon’ get laid in dirt
Listen up, Reggie, I hop up out the Cavalier, them shots flame
Bandana on me with the 30-30; I’m John Wayne
Con-ceited gon’ catch every shell it con-tain
Then I’m running back to the Cavalier; Lebron James
He thinking he sick, now that’s a hypochondriac
Thinking he sick? Don’t give a fuck how hyper Con react
I say, I buck the machine, I bet he changed; that’s a laundromat
Steel peel, something Ill Will hit his Pontiac
Am I the meanest? Sho nuff, well let’s “con-verse”
I heard a Rone dissing Con verse, he kiss a converse
He’ll be Puffy trying to dance with me; Fonzworth
Nine burst, P.O. nigga, I’m making Con work
I’m never scared, it’s B Magic with this bone crusher
Fuck the ambulance, you might as well call the ghostbusters
When this 4 touch ya
I’m telling you good
You’ll see a crazy K if you don’t get your tail from the hood
(Tales From The Hood)
It’s B Magic, the four holder, I’m more doper
Don’t make me call up the war soldiers, the war’s over
Ain’t nothing good ‘bout me reaching in that Toyota
See, Con dough (Condo) will get took and that’s a foreclosure
Your whole name say “I want to be defeated”
What kind of straight nigga say, “I wanna be Conceited?”
I’m heated, and strapped, slid in with the crew
I done broke more niggas down than Hidden Colors 2
How you want it? Say it, and I’ll kill that nigga
I’ll slap the shit out of this Kevin Hart-built ass nigga
See, I don’t feel that nigga
This K Shine, you can zip him up
Don’t smoke Reggie, but something blunt will spill his guts
Turn up, from where they moving, looting, and shooting that boy
St. Louis truest, you seen the news and we shooting them toys
Give me room and I’m moving on you and your unit of yours
To keep the beef fresh, I brought something aluminum for you (foil)
My flow’s sicker, you talking like you dumpin’, shoot somethin’
Walberg and Denzel, nigga, I brought 2 Gunz
So do somethin’, don’t say I ain’t tell him
I’ll stick him up with the Dillinger like Baby Face Nelson
I am here, B Magic versus Tevin Campbell, can we talk?
Catch bullets, that’s what the 80 for; Randy Moss
Back in my arms again, I am the boss
I will survive until we meet again like Diana Ross
Google that, your snitch ass, that shit made up
Kevin Gates; your bitch ass will get ate up
For nonbelievers who thinking I won’t get you killed
Just take it from me, you’ll get the steel
I walk up on him like, make the right move
Thirty thou in thirty minutes or I’ma take your life, fool
He said, “haaah?”, I buck the 40 on him, he like, alright, cool
Now that’s progressive, after I pull the Name Your Price tool
B motherfucking Magic, round one, nigga

[Round 1: Conceited]

Yo, it’s what y’all been waiting for
Conceited vers’ B Magic, this is a homi’
I’m the one that taught this kid how to drop his shit
Made him get on the potty
Y’all done finally put the Karate Kid against Mr. Miyagi
But since y’all think Magic’s worth it, I’ma be a plastic surgeon
Cuz I’m fixing a body!
Nigga, you only rep the blue till the death of you when it’s beneficial
This nigga want to be very Crip till I leave him very crippled
Them real locs run up on him
You see a flag get dropped without a ref and whistle
So don’t say that color’s in your vein and your Crippin is dead official
Cuz we all say you like Beyoncé
We don’t believe that Blue was ever in you
Nigga, you don’t get the pistol, or be dumping out the strap
You just running out your trap
How is your name Magic
And you still ain’t pulling nothing out the cap?
Nigga, I’m comin with the gat at the SPUR of the moment
That nose is longer, I’ll put that Ginobli on ya
I took the HEAT out, like Tony Parker
And a Hollow killed yo (Joe) ass like Total Slaughter
It ain’t no secret, faggot, you know I’m harder, my style’s way better
Your style’s too plain (2 plane) in the building like the Trade Center
Everybody can get these techs/texts, it’s like a chain letter
You gon’ see one arm pop; Swave Sevah
For the smallest problems, let hollows from the K stretch ya
You can get hit by a TIP over somethin TINY like MAYWEATHER
Y’all know this nigga’s B Magic, Black Magic, June, that’s real rap
But this nigga’s real name is Jerry Douglas
That’s not a punchline, that’s real facts
Oh, what, you thought that I didn’t know?
Infrareds on top of hammers, beams with the scope
You gonna see a bunch of ratchets and rednecks
On Jerry like the Springer Show
Twin guns, I’ll fill drums, and you lift them both
I’m the type to raise up two black fours to niggas like Different Strokes
Nigga, I will hit your folks when I’m sprayin’
Your whole family gettin’ (get in) the clip like the Wayans
I’ll even go to black church, with a pastor, ratchet
The deacon be singing, “Let Us Pray” bow your heads, and we Amen
Slow it down! I just dissed you!
I said, pass the ratchet, the D can be singing, let us spray
We’ll bow your heads when we aimin’
Nigga, I ain’t playing, what you gonna do when that gat bursts slugs?
Until you see that ratchet show like Bad Girls Club
Nigga, you gonna run to the crib, you ain’t even sort of hard
Talking that Jaz I’ll bring the shell to (shelter) where you live like 40 Barrs
The reason you only making racket over the net like a tennis ball
Is because my style is something that black jack without a deck of cards
I mean, nigga, you stole my setups down to the way I say every bar
That’s why nobody will ever know who the hell you are
How does it feel to steal everything like Aladdin
And it still didn’t get you far? (Jaffar)
So learn how to be your own fucking man, and man up, nigga
I bet you won’t swear to it and put your right hand up, nigga
That’s how we know watching Seinfeld the only time
We’ll see Jerry be a stand-up nigga
Faggot, I showed you how to do a battle with straight punches through
Pay attention, I’m just teaching June; that’s summer school
But he gon’ act like he been rapping like that and nothing was the same
Little shorty, stop, you like 40 Glocc
You ain’t bring no punches to The Game, nigga

[Round 2: B Magic]

You about to witness bars, more than Nine-Lifers and nine cyphers
You couldn’t hang with that Surf, ninja, Rob Schneider
You wouldn’t be fucking with the kid; that’s the Pied Piper
See, this Mitch’ll get smoked like Mekhi Phifer
My nigga, I do the do, I’m a LiveWire
You’ll get confronted with the hawk; I’m Rod Piper
He’ll (heel) lift in this bitch, that’s not stilettos
A big shell stick to his back; Donatello
I’m beast mode, the heat holder, I C4 ya
The street poet, I speaks on it, decode it
R.I.P. Conceited gon’ be leaking with the deceased odor
Have a nigga from New York undercover; Malik Yoba
Call the crime lab, I’m killing me a motherfucker
Take the strap from this nigga like, “this nine mine”
Then kill him with his own shit; I’m John John
You’ll see Magic ring on him like Don Juan
Strap under my Sean John, you gon’ get it bad
Cuz if he buy these new pumps, he’ll be in the bag
My advice, buck a pistol and shoot
Cuz we can fight steel with Steel like Bishop in Juice
Bitch, tuck your tail, better split like the percolator move
Or your lights’ll get knocked out like the circuit breaker loose
If you bugging, you’ll get sprayed, I exterminated groups
Metal talking, Con’ll run like Terminator 2
My bars vicious, is y’all with it? Cyz the tech’ll blam
I’m from a place where they killed Mike, you should never land
I’m hot, dog, if y’all grilling, you better scram
I pop-corns if anybody in Con’ session (concession) stand
Get your bars up, MICK FOLEY with this damn nine
Why show a DUDE LOVE if he ain’t half of the man, Con? (MANKIND)
A step away from blowing up, cuz if I land mine
I’m trying to murk niggas, you the first dipping like Cam’ron
Tell ’em I’m the truth, put steel into his roof
Indiana game, if they saying Reggie, mill will (Miller) shoot
Don’t get it twisted, you’ll get boxed, Duncan Pinderhughes
Listen, go to the whip after making the car crash
Screaming “fuck Con!” pulling Reggie out the car dash
Getting y’all thrashed, whip y’all ass, I’ll bust a slug
A chrome Desi’ll roast Reggie like Buddy Love
R.I.P. I’m killing this shit
Testifying is the only time he lifting the fifth
This Young Gun roc a fella, you ain’t getting the drift?
That mean you hear a MAC, bitch, a milli’ll spit
Who fucking with me? Nigga, not you, for damn sure
What, you gonna go and get the blicky? Clap and pop it?
Or maybe I should split like a banana, is that an option?
Nigga, you punching without landing; you shadow boxin’
I give Reggie the seven; that’s a convict
Then give him the 4 plus the nickel for that nonsense (9 cents)
This 47 get to safety when I palm this
My patriot’s buckin’ near (Buccaneer) your bronco; I’m John Lynch
I’m from where the Lou is, ain’t nothing fairer, Con
You don’t want to box for real, look in the mirror, Con
Bird nigga, if the Eagle acting foul, Con
Coming masked up with the hammer, you’ll think I’m Shao Kahn
B motherfucking Magic, nigga

[Round 2: Conceited]

Y’all know how this shit go
I told him once, this motherfucker scared
I’m from the motherfucking Lou
That’s how this motherfucker play it
You beat up Fox? You heard what this motherfucker said?
You got scooped up and slammed on yo motherfucking head!
I thought I was going to see,
“It’s B motherfucking Magic, the nigga that be dumping ’em”
Instead, you was holding onto Fox looking like you hugging him
Nigga, you didn’t throw one swing, when you did you started tumblin’
You do all these punches in your battles
Why you ain’t throw no punches then?
I couldn’t believe you got your ass whooped
Like that with a bunch of guys around you
You was swinging like “this,” like it was a bunch of flies around you
Then this nigga was begging for help, but Suge’s ass wouldn’t
Fox had you choked out, you was like…
You know how like when you get that good-ass whoopin’?
Then you choked against Rum Nitty, choked against Big T
I thought, “when is this gonna stop and end?”
In his battles, he be choking so much, I thought he was fighting Fox again
I’m dropping him, he’ll be scared of seeing that 45 like he middle age
Bring niggas to his crib like I’m in real estate
Then run and air in (run an errand) like a had a busy day
I already told you, like Triple Eight
I’ll take the three out; that’s a triple play
It’s in my pedigree to put two caps by his head like Triple H
Isn’t it ironic it’s gonna be morning when he get awake?
I’ll show up and put a cap on that box like Minute Maid
I’ll get the macs out like I’m lifting weights
You couldn’t be next to Con if you were a prison mate
Only thing you ever put the mill on was a dinner plate
And I’m just keeping it on the real (reel) like fishing bait
But since you acting the way your bitch do, I’ll WEAVE with EXTENSIONS
BANGS are getting sprayed, I’ll get the tech to rise here (TEXTURIZE HAIR)
This nigga stay living off me, he a parasite
How y’all comparing us when he ain’t as half as nice?
Cuz in his battles most of his punches don’t land it’s like the Dizaster fight
That’s cuz you throw a zillion wack-ass punchlines
You don’t care if they dumb or not
So how y’all say he’s so cold when his name is June
So we know only some are (summer) hot?
Nigga, I’ll up your guap
I’ma take DIRTY MONEY no matter where your FAITH at
Did he (DIDDY) know I got one twelve (112) and a MAC?
Thinking you a BAD BOY, it should be no BIGGIE for you to TAKE THAT
Your whole team can get “A” cap like a Brave’s hat
After I put the mill on him like a placemat
Nigga, I’ll dump and pile the cans like Ajax
This little toy that’s hot will be on him; that’s a race track
Cuz I’m the type to make the steel ring like a cage match
For all that rapping (wrapping) them CANDY BARS
I’m loading up every shell
It’ll take nothing but a finger (BUTTERFINGER) to put it all in this nigga (SNICKER); That’s caramel
Your ride can keep getting a round; that’s a carousel
For anything that black said, take out black head; that’s Clearasil
And I bet you that’ll make B leave (believe), like a fairy tale
Mr. Black Magic, I’ll send him straight to hell if I cock the thing
I pack twelve and keep a big ten like college teams
After a round, you going to the corner; that’s a boxing ring
You got destroyed by Charron and Real Deal, this is not a dream
Them white boys beat you with bars on cam nigga, you Rodney King
Honestly, when them hammers are spittin’
You better run, kid, when that can get to grippin’
Because that bitch dump and bow (dumpin Bow) like Angela Simmons

[Round 3: B Magic]

Line his circle up, I put this four up to Con neck
All his family reunion like, “where Con at?”
Clear the building after I make a call; that’s a bomb threat
Con, check, I shoot every tattoo off of Con chest
“Conceited?” You look more like a snitch, what about “Con-fess?”
Yous a bitch nigga that hang with bitch niggas, without a doubt
My Brooklyn niggas said the first time they seen you was on Wild ‘N Out
Who wildin’ out? Magic palming the biscuit
Every motherfucker rolling behind Con is gon’ feel it
Got a pine box in the cemetery, Con should go visit
This bitch is fucked behind these bars; conjugal visit
Yo, step it up, St. Louis a.k.a. the new Afghan
Keep the ratchet on me in the club like a lap dance
You don’t want to see me, you a coward
It’s gon’ be a long ride, so hold on, like Mimi in the shower
False bitch, think I won’t smack you, I’ll hem’ him up
Ike Turner, St. Louis niggas been slapping bitches up
Fuck the guns, we can box and all that
And I kill Con, feeling like Spock from Star Trek
Give me space, is it my lyrics is just better, Con?
Got a question, what’s with the spiky shoes and the leather, Con?
You wear leather pants with zippers on… never mind
This tech a nine and buckle your cap like a leprechaun
Ain’t no love in hip hop and that’s a fact; Joseline
I’m swinging where a flock of (Flocka) bitches at, want a meal?
You will eat a shell, shit’ll crack
For the bread, I’ll bury those (Burrito) niggas, it’s a wrap
Can you dig it? Shit, I might as well let a Glock touch ya
Got all types of clips in store just to block busters
A west-sider with this green on me
All on the east side high with this lean on me
I say, fuck you, yeah I think Con rapping is borin’
You’ll get clapped for performin’
What you know about the smack and the dormin
You rap, but what gat are you actually palmin’?
I’m in the dump with the metal like the statue of Jordan
But you be dumping? Nigga, your name light in the streets
I got a wild style, and Con don’t like to get beat
You hyping the beast, bullets coming out the can doing him
Just don’t let it go to your head like Brand Nubian
Stake out at your call with the 40 on my waist
He walk in the parking lot, leaving the party finna shake
Bad Boys 2, you know when Marcus daughter finna date?
I meet Reggie at the door and put a 40 in his face
But I’m supposed to believe you dumping that tech
Well, you was about to sit up on another man’s neck
That’s gay, whoever thought of it a fag, yes
But who’s gayer, the nigga who heard it and said yes
Who is it? It’s B Magic, motherfucker the show arrived
Turning y’all schemers into all of y’all dreamers
Pull up with heaters, all in y’all thinkers
Passing them out on stage like August Alsina
I told him once, this motherfucker scared
I’m from the motherfucking Lou this how a motherfucker play it
Beat me? Can you believe what this motherfucker said?
You must’ve slipped, fell, and bumped your motherfucking head
B motherfucking Magic, nigga

[Round 3: Conceited]

Yo, when I show up at niggas’ pad drawn, it’s not Pictionary
I got a gun that’s so big, fuck a magazine, that shit take dictionaries
I got your bitch on my private like we in the military
And I’m dead going deep in that box like I’m in the cemetery
If you getting away, I be gettin a gauge (engaged) like I’m getting married
Dump and then skirt with the pump like a secretary
I will tell all of my niggas to lift the semi
As soon as I scream “buck it,” (Ice Cream bucket)
Bullets would’ve been in Jerry
So why would I ever worry about his simple raps?
No URL, but you can get this MAC
That means I got the ten for you (tinfoil) like Reynolds Wrap
So stop the chitty chat, nigga, you don’t lift the strap
And got guns slinging, you got none (Nun) singing like Sister Act
So you like a bottle of patron cuz you wouldn’t lick a cap
I figured that anybody who said he won
All lost or call them awesome liars
I mean, you thought you were gonna beat me
In this battle and be brought up higher?
Nigga, you burn so much trees, it’ll be Smokey the Bear
He’ll come out when there’s a forest fire
Slow it down! I just dissed you!
I said, it’ll be smokey, the barrel come out & point when the four is fired
This nigga’s always trying, but he ain’t even kind of scary
You can get ate behind bars, that’s commissary
Make your own style, stop looking for the shortcut, bitch, Halle Berry
Nigga, you damn right, I watch cartoons, so?
I don’t care what whoever think, Magic School Bus, Tom and Jerry
Slow it down! I just dissed you!
I said, whoever think Magic’s cool, bust a tom in Jerry
This is something that’s very crazy, it’s something I got to mention
I don’t know if y’all know his fat ass girlfriend Latasha Simpson
Don’t try to tell me, “she ain’t fat, she got a phat ass,” nigga
No, she is a fat ass, nigga, and she looks like a fat ass nigga
The worst part is this nigga’s marrying her
She got two twins that’s not even his, don’t you get it, little nigga?
That means some other cat did more shit to that box than kitty litter
You met them children when they turned 4 tho (photo)
You don’t get the picture?
Its not SMART GUY to raise up twins that are not yours like SISTER, SISTER
Daddy Daycare, Captain Save-a-Ho
This nigga getting mad, he want to grip the blicker
He want to cock and peel
Nigga, you shooting it like you being a stepfather
Even those kids know you don’t pop for real
But if you get close, I’m like a clepto, because I got the steel
Paramedics gonna have to patch things up like Dr. Phil
Nickel-plated mag, penny-plated bullets, you’ll get shot and killed
Like David Blaine, thinkin you street, Magic
I’ll show you how that copper feel
On the real, I’ve had enough of it
I’ma pull Magic card no matter how hard you shuffle it
Because there’s nothing but lies in your delivery you feed us
June know he on some other shit
Delivery, Fetus, Juno on some Mother shit
Yo, every nigga you bring with you can get sniped off
I got the stick under arm for any man sent (scent), that’s Right Guard
Shout-out to you even making it on Summer Madness
But compared to me, you got light bars
This is Uno, why’d y’all think this would be a draw for (4)
When I’m the reason it’s a wild card?
Your whole team can hop in the bag, that’s a sack race
You gonna see a lot of big shots, like he’s backstage
Nigga, you can hold the cig like an ashtray
I got two black eights and these’ll (Diesel) be on the Magic
Like when Shaq played
Nigga, the only person you ever put in work with was a classmate
When real Crips see you, they see food and take this crab cake
So I don’t want to hear nothing how your mac spray
It’s like them old-ass plays, we can see them bodies you make up, nigga
Just by looking at Black face

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