B Magic vs Ill Will

[Round 1: B MAGIC] Ill Will, the 106 & Park man Slash the regular trash 106 & Park nigga Magic’s ya killer with this 32, I'm a star sinner So if it’s beef is a wrap like a tortilla Midget with an attitude; I got a short temper Either you get jaw bender or I paw print ya You better wear a vest to the ring like Dolph Ziggler Or get the metal round Will like a car fender I’m from the hood, you call it the Slum Slum But never been that broke to dump guns for hun buns But for the cake the lil niggas where I come from Will choke you up for them jewels you better run, son It’s too late to pack them up once I plug Will. You doubt that? Let’s see if this pussy nigga about that Take dawg out for this shit; that’s a house pet Send bad niggas in ya crib; that’s a houseguest [crowd noise]…if feeling out some kind of chump All of this aggression, I assume that your not a punk D.C. sniper shit, got lil’ niggas poppin’ trunks Hit the switch and lift Will up with this hydraulic pump If I give him 8 bet his chin will break […] that’s a triple play You choke against the Roc? Smack, who is this nigga? Triple H Nigga pray, or you can get your whole cap Crystal Lake'd Whoever helped write for Will help him write his will You like for real, why? You the nigga that bore me I turn around and let it fly on any nigga that saw me Shawn Carter with this Glock; I’m still spittin’ at 40 In the car you fucked his moms in; that's a mothership? Suck a dick, you got these people thinking you’re fuckin’ sick I guess you on some other shit, 40 got a rubber grip I peel those cases over his face, I'ma smother shit Real nigga, I got leaders that’ll follow you You’ll wake up buried in a box like Gothika Come to me and see the heat rise like thermometers I’m a star with this blue flag like Somalia I will body ya, end another hater [crowd noise] pull off in the peanut butter…[unclear] I send him to his maker, Magic even hit the neighbors Just to get my point across like the ending of a prayer Hit him with the fifth, get it if you trip Boot Will like it’s unpaid tickets on the whip I’m ridiculous with this shit, Magic let the 9 spit Give Will the chrome and I ain’t tryna get my ride pimped See some niggas don’t know it’s drama till the gun fire I just call it how I see it; I’m the umpire I’m in ya hood nigga hoping that I run by ya In Pontiac with the 5th like I’m a drunk driver Big dusty ass nigga Tell him calm down before I bomb that nigga Another conceited reject I got a palm, that nigga slow it down, you speed it up, we got a Con/Yak nigga I say pour out some liquor for him, he ain’t get the picture The tall can open up but that 5th a licker I got my killer, I don’t play by the shells Clips hang out by the MACs like Saved By The Bell [Round 1: ILL WILL] Shut yo' punchline bitch ass up. I mean we all like punch lines but it ain’t that often we need the shit That’s why niggas want you to go battle Lil Mama I mean Conceited, shit But it’s Ill Will in this bitch, listen here When I run up on Magic I got something that’ll make him disappear. Ya’ll ain’t feeling that? That wasn’t hot shit? Then why the fuck was ya’ll gassing To Don Demarco in Roc shit? He another Kerr. I’m sick as fuck, he bitchin’ up I run upon him and his mans with that pistol tucked Like, "give it up! Is you just talkin’ that dope or is you holdin’ that brick or what?" When that steel blow that’s a double dildo Both of you bitches fucked! They say Ill, when you see Magic you gotta do him rough I say man, he gon’ catch all these clips like a movie buff When the Yak nigga ask you what’s the problem Do not answer You can catch all these cigs till you got cancer Big things shootin’ out big dummies like Lamont Sanford Fella please, quit tellin’ these people you committin’ felonies And you hella deep You just talk about that war; you Tel Aviv I'll hit this big bitch with that big can like Della Reese Now bring it back Cause he say he the big dawg but he hardly bite He talk gun-busting, but he hardly fight, but my army strike So when that black thing stu-stu stutter It ain’t the boxer trying to hail a cab on a Harlem night Somebody spitting that dope, bring that spoon here Comfortable anywhere, keep them goons near Went from PG to BET to Summer Madness 3 What are these top tiers doing here? It’s ironic cause it’s wintertime But I’m just heating up since June’s here Attacking with the MAC, once I blast him it’s a wrap 3 shots will get B tre'd like I stabbed him in the back Magic ain’t dumpin’ no fucking heat, he a fucking geek He got y’all so fooled till I run in the crib with that bird He won’t come out the room like Uncle Pete But as far as these niggas, they incredible No, they not incredible, wait They got an incredible trait to be incredibly fake But my credibility alone Lets you niggas know my credit is great Fuck it, let’s really go punch-for-punch, we can make it go viral I will bring pain to your idol I ain’t like none of you niggas, I’m just taking your title He ain’t slanging shit. Last time we seen Magic with a bird was game 7 of the ’84 finals But me and my niggas, connected like Italians So let this newby know I had that thing pointing at his head like Coolio Knock out his brains like the tooly though They’ll see Magic everywhere They won’t know if it’s a crime scene or a David Blaine studio You think I give a fuck who he hang with Or question do he spray clips? I watched the fat faggot nigga son you in the Lou Your movement ain’t shit Y’all a bunch of crime fighters on bowel movements Y’all on some super gay shit But as far as my niggas we’ll make a mess with this shit I tell them clean it up, the disinfecting shit I don’t respect your clique Me and my niggas vesting shit Still crawling through rice fields that’ll send bullets in Crips shins like hidden messengers I thought I was gone choke nigga What you do to a nigga that punchline? Rope-a-dope nigga