B Magic VS Rum Nitty

[Round 1: Rum Nitty] Rum Nitty motherfucker, your show was cancelled Get pistol-whipped, I’ll go across your shit with the 40 handle Catch you mobbin’ through the wrong hood, them locs’ll jam you And show you how this fire works That’s what all that roamin’ can do I'll open hand you, that’s right got you shook up Your shit bruised, black and blue, it’s “I Got The Hook Up” I fall right your chin get checked The hook'll fuck your career up, that’s that Tiger Woods effect Bet! Most niggas don’t try me Shit ain’t sweet they must heard to get the beats, that’s why, G MAK-90 came in like a wrecking ball Get the hammer licking, that’s Miley, try me And I squeeze the piece their way Bullets break and enter his chest plate There won’t be any games played They say Black Magic is a seasoned veteran And you can meet your death till this Cal pop in Black' face Who is BM F’in with? Against Charlie you should have buried homie But you barely edged that shit But I carry like I recorded a marriage ceremony I would’ve got to wettin’ Clips I should be on every list But most niggas got it in for Nitty, that shit’ll never end, let it sit I ain’t surprised at all, I actually seen it coming This some bull, the next thing Magic is finna son me If that’s your goal then, state what you feel like Cause it can fuck around and be a shootout in real life Chrome .38 special shine real nice I call my tre the truth; it get any nigga that grill iced Fuck with my money I wouldn’t advise that Get ya eye capped over dough, B and need an eye patch Nine strap explode on money like a dye pack They’ll mourn and 40s will be pourin’ When I send you up to the sky, black So watch your mouth or get clocked in it I’m at your grill with a cross for talking and dry snitchin’ I’ll have your guys sippin’ meals through a straw, raw! They say I stole your style Why would I have to copy cats that copycat? Nitty cop free straps and when he cop he clap, you copy that? Joe Cutter vs. Tiger Ty; I body cats Especially if they coming across tricking like a Nazi patch, fact! Watch what the fuck you saying to me Cause I’ll cap on your whole mob, just keep it frank with Nitty Really, you can get the chrome now Pull it and it’ll air and zone a nigga just for bringing up the hometown, BOW! You can’t keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide... kill yourself! [Round 1: B Magic] Listen Rum Nitty, let’s get it started Spit your hardest cause I’m a fucking threat like Mr. Marcus Four clap think of Star Trek; you’re going into darkness Your upside’ll be inside out; now that’s a Ricky Martin What? So you think it’s a game? When I get the cartridge You’ll be smoking from the Sig, you’ll get a coffin I spit something at a nigga that can lift apartments It’s off the wall how you catch ‘em like Kenny Lofton Who fucking with me? The bars and the 50 with me Get to spittin’, y’all better get down with the Nitty gritty 380 long ass clip, boy spittin’ 50 Shady on me everywhere like Mr. Bentley Check the words, I’m outside, I’ll wait for ya If you vamp I’ll have something in steak for ya Rum, you don’t want a shell Nitty’ll get boxed in his front yard for the bucks That’s a rummage sale KOTD, it’s Magic, the show arrived A little old school from hanging with the older squads I’ll send this ho to God I got a Magnum four and the barrel a little under a foot Like Captain Morgan Niggas gonna die whenever that lead come Murder, you give me back words I’ll leave you red, Rum All black with the locs on, I’ll burn a hater Rolls the .30-30, you’d think I was the Terminator Who fucking with me? Come get with me if you sick of me A bad boy, it’s going down I got Nitty, B So watch your mouth before I come in wildin’ You get these lefts and these rights too if Rum ain’t silent Check the lyrics If I catch Nitty trippin’ it’s milli grippin’, semi-spittin’ Two-by-fours, boards and billy stick him Ain’t no bitches around here, you get the picture? When you get wet with the Calico it ain’t skinny dippin’ West Side of St. Louis, nigga get a whiff of me Rum don’t respect Magic they gon’ have to dig Nitty A magazine folds metal; that’s a centerpiece The kid will run into a barrel; that’s a Gymboree Calm yo' ass down before you get put in a trunk Dragged to New York, see if they like that Rum bull in the Bronx Magic pulling the pump, if I dump Nitty gotta run See I’ll have your shit leaking from a shot of rum B motherfucking Magic [Round 2: Rum Nitty] You’ll get the Bruce Lees, son, I’m not the one for playing with Meaning I’ll swing and crack a chin, that’s a White and Asian mix Off one hand gesture I’ll have shooters in the van that’ll nail son Mandela, get your man wet up, no more debate If I graze your cheek with this big K, you’ll have the sorest face Wait, you finna take a L, B I bust things, I know the feeling must sting from a shell, B You a shark in the water? Well, see Don’t sleep on me I’m sharp with the hand Bitch I’m from Elm Street Infrared sit on the Gloc Meaning my heat gotta ray, I’ll lend you a shot I’ll give you a box in a hurry with that This nigga thurr, he scurred Mr. Bigglesworth; he ain’t never let it fur on a cat I should bring the MAC and throw a round But the next nigga getting chopped and screwed He attempt to bring it back and slow it down Pause, you ain’t never in the streets like me But I heard your baby mama let the whole gang bang Your BM a G, I see Fuck it do, Magic? I got somethin’ for B, which have him wish he really can do magic Tool flashin’ and they had to send a realer nigga with the pump, you better shoo Magic I’ma bring a casket for y’all all to watch So when I get the split decision Don’t be surprised on his behalf cause you already saw the box Real talk you don’t want war, B I’ll let a shot hit his roof from a Bulldog; that’s a real gun barking Mean, say something cricket then your man die for real You’ll hear a clicking while he spitting, I’ll get black iced, car tailed But if you hold on them keys, my [...] charge Hit Magic' city then strip ‘em for the work, that’s a titty bar You’re not even riding with them toys You McGwire off the ‘roids, you’re the biggest mark But that’s cool for now ’cause you on top ‘til you get popped So once you see this four close your mouth or lose your spot What? Somebody should have told B that Nitty not a fluke Lost to the white boy and came back whipping niggas This shit is in my roots But you? You can’t keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide... kill yourself! [Round 2: B Magic] I say your last round I could've wrote that at a lunch break Think it’s sweet I’ll wait till his dough rise and take rum cake Fuck around and get shot in the face thinking this pump fake Maybach Music; I got a rose for the gunplay, come play Nigga it’s over when I hit the scene Got a hollow that can make a standup nigga lean I’m trying not to smoke him like nicotine Catch some of these he gon’ fall when it’s spring Bars after bars every battle, you seen it nigga Eagles burn watch me fire birds on a Phoenix nigga And yet yet I show out with the nina nigga And let let my hitman do the remix, nigga How you wanna play it? What you bring the young brother for I’ll pull it until he drop; that’s a tug of war Put on my glove before I touch it like an oven door When it sing, OMG, it ain’t a Usher tour .44, tuck it and buck it, never speak the name or see a grave I’m a made nigga like Cecil Gaines AR, gay bar, walk into it and see a flame Catch a Tommy coming in your door like Gina Payne If I see playin’ that’s when the cars flip, he ain’t catch it I see playin’ [...] that’s when the cards flip Magic about to do a pull-a-nigga card trick Put these steel arms on your front like a forklift Nigga I’m the best, Nitty you should know better Wanna buy some bars? You’re looking at the wholesaler A go-getter, with these cans I draw I bless the bar I mean put these hands on Rum, dumb The story goes Myers killed you; Laurie Strode We fit to match I’m wearing him out like party clothes Nigga, the only rum I know is Bacardi Gold .40 blow, tip’ll lay him out like Shawty Lo We the opposite, if it’s beef I’m going ham, damn it Backhand him, knock him from here to where his fam standin’ All in Phoenix, Yonkers where your fam stayin’ Air and zone a nigga, I tore a wrist trippin’ with this grand cannon Got niggas in Arizona, grimy cats Take your change and slide home, no getting your diamonds back One word to describe Rum, I’ma say Put the letters together from the initials of his state B motherfucking Magic [Round 3: Rum Nitty] Before I get into these bars just peep This nigga told Roc that he’ll “cream his back like sunblock” Clearly deserved a pause to me But I’m finna kill this nigga for y’all all to see That you’ll never find a nigga from the Lou raw as me Fake ass Conceited can’t whoop Nitty I go ham so this ain’t Farrakhan type of nigga can’t cook with me I'll tap his chin and he might fall Nitty lean in with the punch like I’m Ty Law Got the quickest hands, no spick and span I’ll mop dirty Use your head but don’t throw a low blow, you’ll get boxed dirty Get popped early, I’m killin’ Black It’s a wrap but let me play like he big And this shit will get realer, black Olympic match, limbs get snapped, shins get cracked He went for the gold and brought the silver back Real shit, you came to the West to get that assed kicked I rack the dillinger back Then ate dog and left his soul a lil half dead Clap lead the MAC sprayed I crack heads in a battle like Hollohan versus Pat Stay You don’t want war, homie I knew after I’d seen Black fry Day That he had nothing else in store for me I’m finna do him bad day I’m talking putting 14 in June and take his flag, Day That nina get the singing, bet you all get wet Meaning you’re gonna die and a Ross was your cause of death Run up, your whole squad get stretched I’m off the hip bone to your jaw bone; that’s a Das EFX Around your neck I squeeze a belt till you faint Think it’s funny until they find you with your breathing off key and pale in the face Then your soul will elevate Tried to wrestle then he died, that was your ultimate mistake I don’t play, this .40 will bust you Your wig pushed off on the last shot, that’s Jordon on Russell Fuck you, you got a savage spittin’ at ya Chill for this magic clip getting fifty cents… Just tell Magic, stick to rappin’ What’s happening? You don’t tell to be a [...] Rum Nitty TMZ; I see errors in your future I can tell you’re not a shooter, you scared probably Somethin’ activate his nervous system when he get near all the Gs Dome shot, close your casket, it’s over Magic Get closer and pull this nickel behind his ear Don’t make me show you, Magic I say what’s happening? I finna add you to a body count Last minute this shit’ll get caustic if I gotta take the shotty out What I pull from behind’s filled with hot shit You thinking that it’s still a game Murder you then Roc next like Wilma chain You can’t keep it real yourself Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide... kill yourself! [Round 3: B Magic] Peep the way I’m talking to cuz This here flow, pure dope, I’m talking with drugs You’ll fuck around and get murked tryna walk in the club Shells ring out like shirts when you wash in a tub I’m hood shit, you don’t know nothin’ about it, I’m still sparkin' I’ll box him with his back missing; that’s a milk carton If you still talking and you jumping then good I’ll call my can Nick, it’ll get up under your hood I’m nice right? Let’s see who can buck it faster I’ll have your ceiling leaking when I buck it at ya When I pull up with that ratchet, a fucking clapper Get your back handed to you like a puppet master Watch me turn it up like the system low, fifth will blow You about to kiss one of these mistletoes This nigga slow, think quick when I bust at you With a first round in seconds; Lux battle First the MAC burn Nitty, if they steppin’ with you Then your whole frat turn, Nitty (fraternity) Nigga listen to the style you could learn Nitty I made it pop to have a good word pattern, Nitty (paternity) Homie Magic beastin’, everything I think is crack I hit your memory bank with these thinkin’ caps What you think of that? Should I bring it back? I’m too witty Not trying to unite but I’m coming after you, Nitty You don't like it, the heat will spark ya I’m killing niggas on the web like Peter Parker Lil nigga your bars low like you need a charger Me? Tyson with Donald, Broner, Ali and Tarver The flow flame, cocaine, straight dummy, nine blow Switching to Geico couldn’t save money St. Louis state of mind nigga, straight scummy About to pull a nigga card how I play Rummy Got this shit in a bag like a dog walker You don’t wanna pass away like a ball hogger And if you really got a problem, no fearin’ black, hear a strap Kill yourself like a mirror match I told ‘em once, these motherfuckers scared I’m from the motherfucking Lou, that’s how a motherfucker play it Beat me? Can you believe what this motherfucker said? You must've slipped, fell and bumped your motherfucking head