[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
