Math Hoffa vs. Ave [Lyrics]

[Round 1: Math Hoffa]
Summer Madness!
Y’all know I named this event
Well, what’s fucking sad is
The two times I took a part of this card, it ended something tragic
From takin’ Cal, to droppin’ Jones
I ain’t wanna snuff the man
To Smack kickin’ me off of this league, y’all gotta understand
For me to get Champion of the Night, I cooked up the toughest plan
Continue tradition: take this Cal’, drop a body, and get them fuckin’ bands (bans)!
Now, gimme silence
‘Cause y’all know my history, I get really violent
I was hoppin’ out, showin’ niggas where my heart at, before the Shiggy Challenge!
Let’s keep it real!
You a lil’ nigga, just a lil’ bigger
I’ll pull the trigger and level your frame like a crooked picture
It’s Brooklyn, nigga!
And don’t be talkin’ while I’m cookin’, nigga
You think I’m kiddin’? Play…POP! (Kid n’ Play pop)
I’ll drop this fat Ed Harris-lookin’ nigga
I’m hot right now!
Look what they throw me
One butt of the .40 will make ya forehead swell like a floatie
You know me
If I wanted you dead, I’d get your leader snuffed
Two hammers, Timon & Pumbaa
Y’all don’t see the love?
Hakuna Matata, ’cause this’ll pick Roc(k) up, and then you’ll eat a slug, nigga
If Roc is the Gun Bar King, and nigga, you’se his son
Then when I leave his prints (Prince) at this murder, he gon’ choose to run
Beat your feet
Fuck gun bars, nigga, I speak wit’ heat
All you Cave niggas a bunch of Lost Boys, ’cause your leader’s Cheeks
Yo, Roc, you ducked me!
You ducked me in London, you ‘member that?
It’s cool, he wasn’t tryin’ to lose
I should drop him, make Ave pick him up, and help him find his shoes
I heard he gave you bars for this match
A couple of lines to use?
Pacific Rim: to face the monster, they got their minds to fuse
But fuck it, who cares?
‘Cause if y’all niggas really get me upset…
(*Math loses his place for a few seconds*)
Yo! Y’all can hear me!?
I said if these niggas really get me upset
I tell my man, “Grab the squammies, and let’s jet”
Pull up to where your family rest
My man try to hand me a TEC
I said, “Chill…(*chk-chk*)
Tonight, it’s all about the 12 like Danny and Rex!” POW!
I show all you niggas how to behave
Nigga, I got gunpowder to trade
It’s more power today
You see the flames comin’ outta that gauge?
I’ll have everybody in the core Cajun (Caucasian) comin’ outta that Cave!
Hold up, hold up…
Nigga, fuck these niggas’ loyalty
I guess I picked up some Hollow-ish ways
You try to back out iron, you gettin’ shot: don’t follow The Wave!
Yo, wake up, man! I need y’all to wake up, man
I’ll have you and Surf twinnin’ before this verse endin’
Air your top out, let it breathe like it’s shirt linen
You fat, sloppy fuck! You probably smashin’ the worst women
I’ll take out batter, picture-perfect (pitch a perfect) game like Curt Schilling
No, wait…this herb stealing
He be spittin’ out lines that ain’t his
Yo, Roc, your best man is a cheater? Look what Tay digs (Taye Diggs)!
That’s craze, kid! I can’t believe he took it that far!
If he was Muslim, he’d probably pray like, “Allahu snatch-bar”
And that’s wack, bruh
You don’t got bars like that
Every time he spits a stolen line…I’mma hold up this card like that
(*Hoffa holds up a sign that says “10-4 Stolen Bars”*)
So try not to fall asleep, you know his bars type wack
And I’ll be back the next round to bring them bars right back
This shit dead as a motherfucker, boy…

[Round 1: Ave]
I said, it’s ‘bout time somebody finally put me face-to-face wit’ this bitch
Nah, I’m lyin’
Right now, I’m pissed for even taking this shit
This was simply a Smack favor
Y’all know who rap greater
But if not, then check my work on Math like scratch paper
What’s up, hater?
Let me explain a few things ‘fore you get cocky
Any thoughts of you popping off, go ‘head and avoid it, copy?
Norfolk niggas love to brawl wit’ the stocky
Plus, I done made plenty niggas respect my tre way (Tr3yway) more than Tekashi
Y’all got me fucked up
See, I’m only here to throw some bars at him
‘Cause his last Summer Madness was tragic
See, y’all laughin’
But he only act brolic ‘cause y’all gas him
But the second he get curious, just know I ain’t Serius (serious) like sarcasm
I’ll get at him!
‘Cause the fact that y’all label this dude a bully
Got me thinking either y’all ain’t ‘bout action, or super pussy
Plus, he tough around the niggas he got
Well, show me what time it is without hands: that’s a digital clock
This where it stops
See, I promise, y’all should save y’all dude
‘Cause the way he headed, he won’t make it to say, “I do.”
And this the perfect place to display my proof
He get courageous like he ‘Pac here in Vegas?
(*chk-chk*) Deja vu!
The paramedics will be late, kid
It’s over, yo (OVO)
They’ll probably push a T (Pusha T), but get no response
See what that Drac’ (Drake) did?
Or we can shake, kid
bet you I’ll whip his ass!
Stiffest jab, then the razor cut Math: it’s ditching class!
Boy, this is Ave
You intimidating the scared guys
Well, look, Justin, take the static there, and the lead flies
Kick in they spot, we not gon’ spare lives
Leave Just’ for me
Other than that, everybody in here dies (hair dyes)!
This how we ride!
Squeeze both totes empty
Math view two 16s (Matthew 2:16) from God
Nigga, Loso sent me!
But since he feel he like to scrap, let’s scrap
I’ll beat his ass
Then I’m dustin’ Hoff’ man (Dustin Hoffman) wit’ a Hook: he’ll pee the pants! (Peter Pan)
Understand, we ain’t out’cheah playin’, we ride, Hoffa
To survive, we was huggin’ the (to) block like tired boxers
Shit was hot, but wasn’t nothin’ stoppin’ these boys
Facin’ jail, but on go from the start like Monopoly boards
Nah, wait, hold on, ‘cause y’all let this faggot say he the GLOAT?
Man, you on this stage ‘cause of me! Blac was takin’ the votes
You ain’t nobody Smack gon’ pay to see most
If this nigga can raise a penny at the door, he Patrick Swayze in Ghost!
The fuck is he talkin’ ‘bout, man!?
The fuck this nigga talkin’ ‘bout, man!?
Now, see, before, his scar story of war got us alarmed
But we watched you harm dudes wit’ the heart of a soccer mom
Now when you speak on issues ‘bout real niggas, you drop the bomb
So we don’t care about your slice anymore: he Papa John’s!
Man, this fraud bitch is bluffin’
On God, this fist touch him
He’ll get dropped and still leave wit’ the bruise (brews): he McLovin’!
And whoever feel they wanna jump vicious
Drop ‘em dead, on sight (onsite) wit’ copper head, like them Pornhub bitches
I mean business!
Don’t make this shit the worst day for you
Ever brawl wit’ a southpaw? That’s my word, they colder
He gon’ get hurt, bitch, I work straight shoulders
Get a right to the chin, and left on the roof like the first Hangover!
He straight chochi, fake soldier!
He play bold, his face stole up
Or put the stick to Juice: I hate soda
Made bro feel he brave ‘cause he dazed Dose
Man, Juice gotta quit it! (got acquitted)
Yeah, O.J. did it, but case over!
Wait, hold up!
‘Cause I know he know I been ‘bout that action!
.30 under the .40: that’s that improper fraction!
Aye, Mook, this who your problem wit’?
I’ll take care of Math for you, you only gotta pay me back
There go your scholarship!
See, when you holler shit ‘bout the “GLOAT”, you just be barkin’
You and DNA takin’ the same route like y’all retarded
Third-person convo – no, wait, I caught it
G-L-O-A-T, ‘cause he Got Laid Out After Talking!
What we talkin’, man!?
Time, man

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]
One of my fans hit me up as soon as he heard that they set this match
He said, “Math, you back erratic (baccarat) behavior? Only sets you back
Just black, jack. You know the rule, etiquette (roulette). None of that extra crap, so (craps) do your numbers every round.”
I said, “It’s Vegas…you could bet on that.”
I said, baccaratblackjack, roulette, craps
Y’all like, “What’s next, man?”
Yeah, he punch, but wit’ this poker, it don’t matter who got the best hands!
Now let’s dance!
Y’all put this fat fuck against a pure soldier…
(*Math loses his place for a second, audience gets a little restless*)
Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on…
Y’all put this fat fuck against a pure soldier
My fans, like my neighbors: this the style they adore (a door) over
But yours? Straight outta Pittsburgh, ’cause they like stealers (Steelers)
I’m ten years in
Word to God, son (God’s Son): I still write Ether
See, you the type, when your neighbors throw out a couch
You’ll walk past it, see it, and be like, “Yo, this shit’ll look nice inside the house!”
See, that bum-ass shit, that’s some shit that y’all probably doubt
But that’s the reason that he be havin’ other niggas’ rhymes come out of his mouth
I need y’all to fuck wit’ me, fuck wit’ me
I watched this scene go south, and it’s really depressin’!
You, Bonnie, Twork, and Prez the new “Ocean’s Eleven”!
Like…aw, fuck…
(*Math loses his place again, and the audience gets a little more restless*)
I watched this scene go south, and to me, it’s depressin’
You, Prez, Bonnie and Twork the new “Ocean’s Eleven”
I mean, where’s your integrity?
When you got exposed, it was a devastator
If you ain’t the one stealin’, pussy, then whoever pushin’ your pen a traitor (penetrator)
‘Cause I watched you take from top-tiers, to niggas I never heard naming
You probably got a bar from my first round in your third waiting
But that “iron low like anemic” from Verb?
That was the worst taken
You throwin’ lines to hook the crowd, word for word: that’s verbatim (Verb bait ’em)!
And then he talkin’ ’bout-
C’mon! Fuck wit’ me!
And then he talk about, “It’s coincidence”
That’s a fraud!
I’ve been in this shit ten years, never got accused of snatchin’ bars
Maybe one or two that sound alike, but that is all
Nigga, you’ve been here three years, and got a whole bar-lifting catalog!
You a faggot, dawg!
You got your nose in other rappers’ balls
You be watching battles, tryna get a part like a casting call
And that’s wack for y’all
And like I said, I can’t believe you took it that far
If he was Muslim, he’d probably pray like, “Allahu snatch-bar”
That’s no disrespect to the Muslims that be makin’ salat
I was raised by the block
Not a Muslim (*swoo*), but I stay wit’ the ox!
I’ll put the blade in your top, or I’ll empty the clip
Since you used all them bites (bytes) – BOW! – get your memory chipped!
Remember me, bitch!
This the G.L.O.A.T., I’m supposed to ghost you
You could throw your punches
I’ll rope-a-dope you, then I’ll over-Dose you!
C’mon, man!
This is me punchin’ in Ave without GPS-in’
I’m a legend – who the fuck is this PG stressin’?
Yo, Smack, see what you got me in?
This nigga used to sell bootleg DVDs
You think he got a problem wit’ copyin’?
Yo, you rock wit’ him?
Nah, Roc rock wit’ him
I should rock him, then
Smack Roc, and have Smack rockin’ him
You niggas is Smack gunnas?
Well, Smack is my gun – soon as you box me in
I pull it out like, “SMMDLL-SMMDLL-!” – and let you box wit’ him!
You don’t got bars like that

[Round 2: Ave]
I just wanna talk right quick
Lemme talk right quick
Yo, y’all ready?)
I say, yo, I don’t know who sent bro on this bold mission
But I ain’t no ho, listen
You came to flow? My nigga, do what you know: be dope spittin’
If they told you, “Play soldier”, man, don’t listen
You’ll just get a trip to Wallace thinkin’ you real, Juice, when your Pulp Fiction
‘Cause he swear he got a brave heart
‘Cause plenty gangstas walkin’ these streets…but there’s even mo’ layin’ down in the graveyard
Some deserving the shells, others we just cherish
Big 3, with Bird and McHale: I seen the best perish (Parrish)
You don’t scare us, and why would you wanna?
Think of it smart
‘Cause, see, the scared man would kill you as quick as the one with heart
So while you thinkin’ you a threat, ’cause he weak
He in his head, thinkin’ he can’t get no sleep, until you restin’ in peace!
I played these streets! Been in my share of beef
Respect my presence
‘Cause I put in work and did more, Math: that’s extra credit
I just ain’t run my mouth, sorry
‘Cause if they found out, the full force gon’ be after the Kid, like House Party
So pardon me if I don’t see this dude as a supervillain
Stupid livin’ souped up off an image you used to build him
Now, your problem with Nigel
Man, crew rivals is forbidden!
Plus, that’s one Hollow…
Survive 30: bet you’ll forgive him!
Is he kiddin’!?
My life ain’t no fishing trip in the spring!
I’m still havin’ nightmares of the different shit I done seen!
I mean, we had heavy drama
And, bitch, I got a son, so if my foes try to settle a score, do I Credit Karma?
See, them kind of problems sit wit’ me often
Picture your mama dealin’ wit’ sorrow, starin’ at her kid in the coffin
Face full of tears, sniff when she talkin’
Still in shock, shakin’ Juice box like the last sip in the carton!
You just be barkin’!
Too worried ’bout this image you made up
Melted bubble gum: stick to the paper!
Weren’t you hit wit’ a razor!?
Next time, 50-clip from a banger gon’ fold you
Then old Wu: you’ll get 36, Chamberz! (36 Chambers)
This bitch ain’t gangsta!
Jones screamed in your face, and you got him – fine
But you were supposed to deal wit’ Day’ just as fast: that’s Ramadan
See, bottom line, how you movin’ is fraud!
Punchin’ the weak (week) first, but ain’t no check Day’?
Oh, you new to the job!
He got y’all fooled!
Nah, fool! It’s codes to this shit!
If you tough, be it everywhere, not just home ’round your clique
Least they’ll respect you as a man, no bluffin’
You dead that? Then it’s edge-of-the-bed sex: you gon’ stand for nothin’! (nuttin’)
I’ll switch the subject, but you knew you weren’t built for this kind of madness
The second they sent the advance(d), Math, like Honors classes
Now what happens after this match?
Either you’ll sit quiet
Or go back to fake-lovin’ Organik (organic) like Clips’ diet
Let him try us! It’s riots!
I’m sendin’ some cold hittas
Take it out the do’, then it’s more triggas
The toast wit’ us, it ain’t far
Won’t say it’s in the car, my code realer
You won’t never hear me “Reedin'” (reading) out loud, like slow niggas!
Once it’s real, that’s when your whore get clapped!
I’ll tell my boys, “Relax”
‘Cause I’mma be the man to lay bae (Mandalay Bay) if it resort to that!
.40 clap him in traffic, he’ll duck shot scary
Got his whip canned: I’ll have ’em thinkin’ Just’ got married
How we gon’ carry this?
‘Cause I’m thinkin’ you got me dumb confused
Bro, I don’t give a fuck! My mind missin’ a bunch of screws
Like if I come and dump the tool
Better make sure your brother, sister, niece, and all his nephews duck: he Uncle Scrooge!
If they don’t move, then so fuck it!
That tool? Gon’ go bust it!
Even if I shoot a kid all in sin (Cyn): I’m Joe Budden!
All that tough shit for y’all to be scared
Why weren’t they there when you had that problem with Tax, like they garnished your bread?
I mean, I’m sayin’, your man claim he dumpin’ and squeeze the Llamas
Swingin’ on soft niggas ’cause they don’t want equal drama
But you had a league problem and took them to see Your Honor
So you’ll street fight, but rather sue mo’ (sumo)? Oh, he E. Honda!
Nigga, calm it down!
Just ’cause you live, it ain’t what it seem
I mean, we know you ass-vegan, so talkin’ shit is your thing
Wait, come to think about it, New York lingo explains you clean
‘Cause when you say your “word is bond” (Bon’), nigga, now we know what you mean!
Oh, you mad? You wanna swing?
And help your stock somehow go up?
Well, I’m not them other clowns
You better knock me out colder
But lemme stop you now, soldier
Only nigga that ran down Ave and got some followers was Rocky Balboa, nigga!
That’s time, bro

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]
He said some shit about 36 Chambers, right? (Yeah!)
It’s cool, I’m Wu-Tang wit’ the bars
But you went on a run stealin’: he Boonk Gang wit’ the bars
But it’s aight…
And you talkin’ ’bout I ain’t tough everywhere?
Nigga, think of some other shit to say
See, I’m talkin’ ’bout you stealing, but you know that we steal (steel) in a different way
We in the era where they hate real niggas and truth-sayers
Everybody wanna play games, until you put that motherfucker on two players
See, me, I don’t do favors
‘Cause ungrateful niggas is move-changers
And when they tell they story, you know they skippin’ a few pages
See, me? I got this scar in Schenectady, right?
Before my shoes started mashin’ dudes
On 7th, they tried to rush me, but I made it out, blastin’ through
On Lex, the cops jumped me – I kicked one of they asses, too
What I’m tryna tell you is I’ve survived way worse Aves than you
But it’s cool, it’s cool
Nigga, look at my hands – scarred knuckles from long scuffles
You try some dumb shit, they gon’ touch you, a lil’ double
On the inside? Rough skin, large bubbles
From clutchin’ two hammers, one clean, one dirty: The Odd Couple
See, you the type of nigga that be talkin’ threats and lookin’ tensed
I’m the type of nigga that stay calm and be lookin’ dense
An hour later, you in the E.R., wit’ your shirt lookin’ drenched
A month later, I’m carving my name inside the booking’s bench
See, that’s the type of shit I be on
See, I really lived this shit, and that be these niggas’ problem
I used to g-ta-
(*Math becomes flustered for a second, losing his place yet again*)
See, I really lived this shit, and that be these niggas’ problem
I used to take niggas’ ice cream, but I ain’t tryin’ to bask in robbin’ (Baskin-Robbins)
But if you was floor seat, you have to take a loss, B
I’ll slide through and take the ice off Ave, and leave him salty
God opened my eyes, and revealed my blessings
Now I’m Christmas for the blind: you gotta feel my presence (presents)
I’m not the loud-talkin’ nigga
To be honest, I hate talkin’
I’ll roll a blade down Ave, then cross him: that’s jaywalkin’
But nah, nah…he don’t even get the blade in my pocket
Either I keep mellow (‘Melo) or skip the Hawks: we goin’ straight to the Rockets
Pop it!
You ain’t the Ave that you rap about
URL speak for you, so don’t act different if I smack (SMACK) ya mouth…
Yo, time, man

[Round 3: Ave]
I say, goddamn…
After the face-off last night, you sittin’ there runnin’ your fuckin’ mouth…to do all of this goddamn chokin’
Smack, I know this shit ain’t comin’ out (*chuckles*)
But one thing about it, I’m a Norfolk nigga
Done had to grind to provide the dinner
Gunfire, some of my homies died tryin’ to get splendor
Shit, it ain’t easy to survive in Virginia
Just know your path ain’t make you Supreme, Math, ‘less you a 5 Percenter
But, nigga, let’s look at the truth
‘Cause it’s always the ones who can’t feel they self gettin’ shot , ‘til they get bullet proof (bulletproof)
And you remind me of the type
Tryna live up this hype…until a real .30 reveal you as Body of the Night
See, niggas like you like to pump y’all chests?
Oh, you a tough guy? Bet?
Them niggas gassed you up to come try and flex?
Well, let’s see right after this dumb guy stretched
Will these same men lift Justin (just ten) like judgin’ a dunk contest
Or will they do they best grievin’?
Stress for a couple weeks, then put Math on an arm or a shirt like test cheatin’
See, he’ll laugh until he shot
And they gotta tell his son, “He tried to gamble in Life, now you losin’ your daddy – watch.”
(You caught that, right? Aight, aight, aight)
I’m just tryna show him the plot of how some things work, Beas’
Beefin’ wit’ certain niggas, that’ll get your team murked, Gs
And it’s gon’ be mean vers’ me
You, Chamberz, and Cor’ found
All three, hunted (300) down: bitch, I’m King Xerxes
The nerve of these nervous-breathe Urkel dweebs who fear him
I told Smack, “Contract is a scratch. Let me get near him.”
Yeah, I hear him wit’ that ‘Pac speech
Well, when that nigga wit’ the long nose make you back up, don’t be in shock, G
It’s a lot of rappers you scare – just not me
It’s probably five that’ll drop you for real – I’m Top 3!
So I could leave him slumped sleep, then Tay gon’ let the guns speak
We know Roc(k) got heart (Hart) wit’ him: that’s Jumanji!
You think he fuckin’ wit’ me!?
Oh, you must puff the new reefer!
Or feel he tough ’cause he snuffed a few people
Well, listen up – bitch, I will let my knuckles crush a few features
Then he gon’ follow up on what I left of Math: this my substitute teacher
See, I looked up to him
As far as battle rap, he inspired drive
But if he try me, this gon’ be the spot where my idol lies (idolize)
And I’m not gon’ play wit’ him!
I’ll smack him wit’ a bottle of Seagram’s just to leave a path of gin (pathogen) like an AIDS victim
You better get him, ’cause niggas know I’m relaxed and be respectful
But swing at me with a strap
Shit gon’ happen, bro, I bet you
I might split a check and have some niggas stretch him
Pay the Cave, or bring half to a Dot: that’s turnin’ fractions to decimals
You’ll check who? Not over here – we non-believers
Besides that, you’d rather drink a bleach margarita
‘Cause if I gotta palm a heater, I’m bombin’ the harmless features
And that karma clip will calm any kind of karma that reach us
This is me, Just’!
Heat tucked, but if sparks lick off
I’m fuckin’ up the Vegas vacation: Clark Griswold!
Naw! ‘Cause I’m feelin’ nice, not quite like a killer
Leg shot – to get away, he’ll have to slide it like Thriller!
I’m that nigga!
By now, shit, I figured he’d get the picture
You want a problem? Holla
I’m around shooters and product-pitchers
Seen some young niggas strung in the mix
Shit, them niggas went from servin’ the junkies to becomin’ them shits!
And it can be somebody you rock wit’, too
You and him cool, so you can tell if he a user or not, the amount he cop from you
So stop it, duke!
I done seen all the shit you done seen
Like, everywhere I go, that flour (flower) stepped on: it’s Prince Akeem!
I’m from the 7-5!
Ten toes down, never fronted!
Pound on my chest, took me an oath that I fear nothin’
Niggas like my kind come by the dime
Wait, add that, young’un
7-5, ten, pound, and a dime: bitch, I’m 100!
This ain’t nothin’!
The fuck is we discussin’!? This nigga trash!
What he ’bout to brag about? All the battles that’s from his past?
Well, Iron cooked you, got ya head cracked when you went at Holla
Even Cal’ll re-kill (calorie) him like it’s a fat nigga problem!
Yeah, I’m ’bout it!
Nah, ’cause I appreciate all the labor
But I’m on a different mission
This shit was a smaller favor
Now, I dig the fact you wanted V-A to get off major
But you could’ve sent Math to Jakk’ (jack), like, “Call me later”
But it’s straight, cuz
I told him, “Fix my plate”, right, Smack?
‘Cause you been sleepin’
It’s time I bring my state right back
Don’t give a fuck about these sucka niggas! They type wack!
‘Cause I’m a nigga outta Norfolk, straight like that!

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