Loaded Lux vs. Murda Mook Round 2 (2014)

[Round 2: Loaded Lux] Mook, that verse was shaky, it’s looking like the fortune tellers accounts had no where to count How niggas tell you your career gon’ be on fire when one day and leave out the part where you standing in front of the dragon mouth I’ll drag you out them schemes and things you been acting out Attack me how? Personally you’re lyrically traffic along the route But this where your delivery start to look like carry out Puff had you out to dinner after that bout, that shit had my boy thinking he bad And that’s exactly what got me in daddy’s house I go straight to work on graveyard shifts You on a reality show when in all reality you nothing like [?] script Again, our last battle, right? Did you bring them two chicks? That wouldn’t make you the shit I mean you had 50 level raps, but a nigga facing the mat, all make-up shit What about a good amount of 60? You the same dumbfounded look when [?] Navigation system re-routing, nigga, you turn your head on these verses You gon’ get a hook around and I got news for ya, you can’t hang with a nigga this grounded You bust up, you get your pen stuck I studied your make up to see how you would look like without it You surrounded, you been fraud You couldn’t [?] with the rock and post up with a gem star They all [?] against y’all, I clinch draw Right where your company face when shit end wrong Blood on the leaves, what you believe? A nigga get a battle with Lux and forget to breathe They gon’ honor his [?], I promise, the cameras catching your karma My [?] done fathered, God had created his author, made me [?], Mook I could be painter or terminator, you turning white, boy, watch [?] get Jon Connor I’m nicer than your mother mother with this grammar, nigga, I beat you like big momma That drama had you hip hopping, it’s nothing like the genre [?] telling you to tuck in your pajamas [?] blood clot, parking like a Charger [?] squeezing tighter than the muffle shirt from under armor You can make it, Murda, how you do that you gon’ be a fucking martyr I’mma clap mine in ya vagina, bleeding, they tryna hold his jeans in with the big stitches and rap niggas I figure they’d love you in designer You a liar in her with the truth treasurer, these embezzler, this the shit I don’t like, chief [?] you no Chris Hansen, why would you put that girl in the house? You’ll never catch a predator I remember ya, you was young, you was hot I remember that battle, my nigga, everything you were saying And how it sound ten times hot cause you going against the greatest But, Mook, I do love the greatest, you believed in the hype That’s why I waited ‘till your shots started fainting, then you compared you to Mike [?] it’s no wonder you’ll never be like when you was younger I got a Broadway to play on now