B Magic vs Tay Roc

[Round 1: B Magic]
It's B Magic, mothafucka, the show arrived
When I say I'm carrying a mil it ain't a lunch box
Bring a MAC that'll cream his back, like sunblock
Pop Roc and roll, you think you rapping to a punk, Roc?
What the fuck make you think that you could beat Magic
When all your setups and punchlines are C average
Boy, I'm dope with these rockets, like Steve Francis
Have your dome run in your lap, like team practice
I keep a .38, the homie got a dirty Glock
Niggas better sit calm or catch at least 30, Roc
30 shots, Gettysburg, get your whole crew buried
Pop steam, give the Roc wings, like the Tooth Fairy
See, I'll give a Dot five, like half a gram
Trey Block and Pack Side, my lil' niggas Taliban
Hit him with a, "Oh shit!", followed by "Well, I'll be damned!"
When it lift, wait, I get that workout without a Bally plan
Batter up, somebody should tell you, you and your friends fake
You acting and that ain't well, like Larenz Tate
Take this square outside and smoke him; that's a cig break
You'll be lyin' (lion) with a blue face; that's Penn State
It's B Magic, boy, I'm shining like oily skin
This .40 no Joker, this bitch clowning; Harley Quinn
You dying right now, I'm probably looking like Charlie twin
This .38 die got them running; Harvey Dent
You know, Harvey Dent, Gotham City… you'll get it later
Well, I'll get to chopping Roc if I get the razors
Get the blazers, this just the beginning, Roc
Smack him with the Barracuda, nigga, I will Plymouth Roc
Cinder block, find me with the grittiest lethal
One punch KO, I don't think your gentlemen need you
I hit a Dot between his eyes, that's the end of your people
And put a dot between your eyes, like the Indian people
I slaughter houses; that's Royce Da 5'9"
You'll get led by a gangster; that's organized crime
Testing mine, I'll make a nigga dip; that's avocado
A hook will make his ass spin, like Colorado
I told 'em Magic got these bars, the plan is gutter
As soon as I stepped in the building Tay ran for cover
Name flip and punchline king, what you saying? Nothin'
Sling a shot, I mean the king'll pop, like Janet brother
I get after that mail, man; no dog chasers
Bust shots, bitches get to running; dog racers
It's Wrestlemania whenever Magic send them fours
‘Cause Roc ain't never seen a nigga like this before
Cave gang? Oh, so y'all a bunch of nine sparkers?
Thug niggas, gang bangers, bomb tossers?
No bullshit, this nine shooting ain't Ron Harper
I'll have them shells run into Roc, like Sean Carter
I come up to your roof window with a bomb K
Leave a stomach on the car dash, like Kanye
Boy, it's 'bout to get uglier than Strangé
Have 11 bucks shooting guards over mine, Tay

[Round 1: Tay Roc]
You told Young Kannon
"Tay Roc took you to a cliff and tripped you."
Well, if I killed him and he killed you, you know what you into?
Nah, tell me, why they sent you?
If St. Louis was a restaurant
You'd be the cheapest shit on the menu
These punches you can't block knowing Jiu Jitsu
I load up them magazines, you gon' get your issue
The clip's so long it should say, "To be continued…"
Nigga, watch your mouth, I'll ice your house; that's a igloo
Y'all watch how I do him, just hold that camera still
His top get split three different ways; that's a banana peel
When this hammer peel, déjà vu
When I spray my tool, you the first nigga this cannon kill
Man, for real, who the fuck is B, stoppin'?
You got 3-0'd like two battles ago, but now B, poppin'?
Let me catch B, plottin', I'm gripping the waist
A pistol whip pushing his face, like B. Hopkins
You fuckin' with the right one, I'm not lefty
You said I can't kill you? Nigga, do not let me
How the fuck you gonna move me? You not ready
So I advise this nigga B, bop, ‘cause Roc, steady
I hit him with the SIG's: the long, then the short
Like Crystal Head Vodka, I will leave your skull on a porch
Let me find out you snitching, you'll get off'd with a torch
My niggas gon' get B before he ball to the courts
You'll need more than them name flips to beat me
He ain't never seen cash money, so how is B, G?
What the fuck, I gotta show out to make B, see?
Y'all got him gassed, once he see them pumps I bet B, pee
On the other hand, if I hook him and he just ate 'em
I'll give B K's like the Brooklyn abbreviation
That was light, give me a second and let me get it right
He'll get a box, I'll give B K's, like British Knights
I find it comical y'all expecting a classical
So I'ma give Magic a L; that there is magical
Get close, then give him a dose; that's mathematical
Punch him in his jaw so hard, I break his clavicle
Outbar me? Impractical, I'm too tactical
Cruising 'round with a Tommy, like Jamie Foxx in Collateral
No hammer on me, I'm stabbing you, make it graphical
Ripping your veins, sending this blade longitude and latitude
We both animals, but this ain't your habitat
Y'all took a cantaloupe and threw him where a wild cat was at
You tryin' to get robbed? Well, there's an app for that
Peep this, whoever I phone will get Magic jacked
Give Magic slack? I ain't having that
I grab the MAC, it's going "bladadat!"
Turn his Cadillac to an acrobat
You think you can beat me? I ain't even mad at that
Watch who you eyeing, you get smoked for your cataracts
So get a vest, hat, bulletproof car and all
You, your family, your cars – you better armor all
I'm in the streets flashing double D's, like it's Mardi Gras
Hit you, then give your pal this, like the Taj Mahal
Got everything from hollow tips to Molotov's
You lucky we ain't in Maryland, I would've bought them all
Bar for bar, I'll kill him, they'll have to haul 'em off
Take a risk, watch, get clocked and sent where all them are
Pussy! You heard what the fuck I said
You jumped in this ring with Roc
Y'all know this motherfucker dead
Beat me? Can you believe what this motherfucker said?
He must've slipped, fell and bumped his motherfucking head

[Round 2: B Magic]
Uhh... Lil Tay Tay, let me teach youuu how to spit the heat
No spatula, but I got some metal that'll flip the beef
This Hulk-a-maniac, when it get to ring it'll rip your T
These Young Gunz raising up the Roc ain't Chris and Neef
Get me chief? You say shit like, "Roc could get tipped off."
I'm pissed off that you still making punches 'bout Kriss Kross
That miggity mack shit, slap whoever told you that shit hard
Trip dawg and I'll stage a shooting, like Rick Ross
Big Boss, boy, ain't nothing pussy 'bout this gang of cats
Hot slugs flying through the Cave, like a gang of bats
Demarco, bring it back, wanna hear a K spit?
Get beat in a battle on some DNA shit
Straight piff, boy, my flow tighter than Wayne pants
Left hooks, then I start doing right; I'm a changed man
If Roc don't know the rundown, well, here's the game plan
Have the bones hanging round the neck of this Cave man
Know I'm serious when I spray cans into him
Yo, Danja, dying is so easy a Cave Man can do it
Leaking fluid, fucking with your boy Magic I'll murk your bitch
Open up on the front of your car, like Urkel whip
If Tay don't stop mugging it's gon be a fight
Dumper make Sweet Chin Music and super kicks
With this here in the piece I get ludicrous
Come a-cross where your G's is, like a crucifix
Spook the bitch, Tay Roc, you a clown nigga
You was a Proving Ground nigga
Before the Proving Ground niggas
Wave your hand shake before I give you the pound, nigga
Videographer; I shoot you and the crowd with ya
Let me turn up, ‘cause I don't save pussies, I sell a bit
.40 knocking, you don't got no choice but to let 'em in
You sleep? I come in, peel a cap; that's medicine
Start from feet, then I'm moving on up, like The Jeffersons
I'm hella fixed, boy, you done turned down the wrong road
I bet these three 16's will leave this stone cold
So try again like you typed in the wrong code
I'm shocked, G, I'll leave you underground with this long nose
Well, what you think of that? This nigga Tay trippin'
Niggas tried you before, but never Tay crippin'
I'll catch him outside, no need to dump the fifth in
‘Cause the 32 clip'll be banging; Blake Griffin
Listen, this nigga better stay in a rock place
I rush more just to press a dent into Roc face
This combination that I give him ain't a lock safe
I mean, when you get the beats it ain't by Dre
It's my place, what up, homie? I'm the new guy
Knife grip, make your wife strip, like True Lies
You can get the whole 10 or these two 5's
Bring pain to your crib, my Tommy got a new job

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
What, I gotta come to St. Louis, show you I get ill?
Tuck my tre pounds, smack your son off the big wheel
Tell him holla for his father, I'll show you the shit's real
I hear a verb out your mouth you getting this hollow tip drill
Bitch, chill, before I grip steel
He'll see AR's, then spend his life in a trunk
That's the 5th wheel
I don't fuck with pork and I know y'all pigs squeal
I get you a closed casket if you don't keep your lips sealed
You told me not to punch with you, I don't understand
If this was boxing he'd be the one throwing 200 punches
And only twenty land
That's why bar for bar you can't fuck with this vet
I premeditate, don't throw unless my punches connect
You wanted this wreck
Well, I ain't one of them niggas to get mad
I knock 'em out, leave Magic on the floor, like witchcraft
Your bitch ass, you the type to let niggas snap 6 stars in your face and spit on your Crip rag
You wanna ride on me? Well, you won't get past
I knock a chip off Magic mountain and take his six flag
Your best bet is to shake or get left slim fast
No games, you don't wanna be it when you get tagged
You wanna die? So it's your ditch I'ma dig
I drink Ciroc, boy, don't make me put this 5th to your head
No, I'll get sir rocked once that fifth to his head
I'm a serial killer, Magic, tricks are for kids
To keep it G, we should've been battled
If I knew you would've wanted it with me
I would've been at you; catch your mom's mom while she picking them granny smith apples
Give your granny the Smith, how you like them apples?
You ain't know saying my name would get you long gone?
You barely beat Chilla, fuck with me you getting bombed on
You gon make me palm arms, shoot the clip
'Til it click, click, click; sound like the Big Sean song
In your last battle I peeped some awkward shit
You told Juice he'll be the first to get rocked, like Charlie Clips
Well, I'll shoot your mother, your father
Even your aunts get hit
And you'll be the last to get rocked, like Charlie Clips
Why should I start with you? I been on a mean streak
Suge, Kannon, O Red dead, I left Qleen sleep
Knock the block off Rich Dolarz, I made him seem weak
Brought that broom out on Cortez, gave him that clean sweep
Out of all of them niggas, you ain't like that for real
Now Smack got you taking this ass whooping I had for III
You'll hit the tile and all once I let half it peel
They'll send your son flowers once you pushing up daffodils
So do your best to look alive while you standing thurr
You said you was gon 3-0 me on that camera thurr
You don't wanna throw the hands in hurr
I'll beat him something sick
Once these hands done, they'll have to give this man a cure
Let me hear that you getting them dead presidents
I pull up, pop the trunk of the Lincoln
That's what the weapon in
Once I run up, bend your men, go get the settlement
And you gon' get your face on the 50, like Jefferson
I catch him on a day that he trying to let his flag show
Beat his head with a pipe 'til it turn to a flag pole
Put you in the IC if I let the mag show
Get it? Magic-Show, and the eye see if the mag show
Fuck it, don't nobody do this like I do this
This saint don't think he gon' take an L… oh, you is
Right before his eyes I done spelled out "St. Louis"
This saint don't think he gon' take an L… oh, you is

[Round 3: B Magic]
Yeah, I'm back on my bullshit, I'm next to blow
A lot of mothafuckas gotta die, but you next to go
Boy, when this metal to your chest it ain't a stethoscope
You gon see a space through him like a telescope
Let him know, Roc about to die, get the yellow tape
Draw on the next nigga who ask me if III is straight
Magic, disrespect me, that's when the show stop
Grid Iron Gang, I guess I gotta coach Roc
See, I don't smell what Roc cooking when he use a plot
To show nigga I crack heads I'ma use a rock
Put Tay to sleep, that's a Roc-a-bye when I shoot the Glock
For trying to jack Black I'll teach you how to school a Roc
I keep a cal, boy, for this kid Roc
You get a price on your head; that's a wig shot
Big shots, I will Chris Roc
Need I tell 'em more? You bad company
What you think I brought this lethal weapon for?
One day I gotta kill Tay, that's what the mob say
Well, I want the Roc right now, Like Rob Base
So go and swing if you feeling like Devon, Tay
I get the talking with these toys, like Tom Hanks
You fuck boy, you fucking with the wrong one
You swing, a pop fly, you better make it home, run
A tip will bank heads whenever I zone one
Just know that this Tom Tom got a long drum
Dumb, this 32 packer ain't Reggie White
Scratch that, this 80 raid a nigga; Jerry Rice
Let it sing, it's a friend of mine; Kelly Price
Give the passenger 57; Wesley Snipes
You wanna throw up? Bet, you all fight me
And I'll send him to meet God, like Bruce Almighty
Try me and I'll clear the whole Cave when I blam a shot
Tay will get that Bambaataa, I'll put you in the planet, Roc
Wait 'til it's dark to go bomb this bitch town
You won't see the daylight if you don't calm that shit down
Your bitch in NY? Say word, nigga
I'll take your boo in New York, like Verb, nigga
You do you, I do me, that'll make your days better
Son him with one arm; Tay'II get Swave Sevah'd
Shoutout to Team Homi, I ain't come to play with ya
This ain't the first time some clips and a K hit ya
Wanna throw some hands? We can, Roc
Call me asshole one more time and this hand cock
This my undertaker, it'll pick up and slam Roc
We'll Damien Marley him; we'll come to jam Roc
Roc don't need a revival, so give Roc a wear
Cop new heaters, like new sneakers; I got a pair
Tell this nigga Chilla, I'm the reason Ric got the flair
It's Magic, I don't feel gucci unless that flocka there
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 lil Tay Tay done said?
He must've slipped, fell, and bumped your motherfucking head

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You ain't smart, you should've known not to fuck with me
You under me, the niggas that's over you, they run from me
You ever been in the 40/40? My bar's luxury
I should make this fruit leak juice for tryin' to punch with me
The hammer got kick back, like Tai Chi
I let off 106, they got parked wherever Roc see
I'm like Hova with a Glock, when I rock B
Aye, Math, this Crip gon be the one y'all see RIP
You better dash, like Dame, ‘cause this the wrong way
You lost to Heartless, wanna battle Con; what you on, yay?
Aye, I don't play, this MAC ain't Beanie Sigel
Once I rock him y'all won't see him again
I'll Memphis Bleek you
I take two Uzi's, then make two movies
‘Cause once I shoot the extended clip, I shoot the sequel
Do the math! Some think this don't add up
Some think you in my division
I'm just thinking: "Where are we equal?"
I walk around with a street sweeper; custodian
Spray the can 'til the smoke clear, like Osmium
Glock click, cock it, pop it, it'll open him
The doctors looking at him like a closet, ‘cause they closin' him
Go ahead, get Roc salty; sodium
The hawk got a blue steel handle, the blade rhodium
I cut your face, stick your fingers
Through the hole, then sew it in
Break your jaw, once that shit get wired it get broke again
Charlie beat me, but with you it ain't going down
Since then all I could see is clips when I unload these rounds
If he see me on his block when he roll around
The chopper Conceited size, I wish he would slow it down
Here's where I turn it up a notch; thermostat
When y'all find BM dead it ain't Bernie Mac
Learn the facts, I'm not a Crip, nigga, I'm Cave Gang
We daps it up with the left hand, but we don't gang bang
See, wait, you was better off being a team mate
The odds will get even if I hit him with that .38
Rat on me? That's a closed casket, nigga, cremate
Fuck a lawsuit, nigga, this gon' be a brief case
If you was strapped, I'd backhand ya
And dare you whip out a pistol
I get you cracking, ‘cause I jack hammers
Shots will show his insides, like a CAT scanner
We at his funeral 30 deep, like the Black Panthers
That's bad manners, Smack made you a marked target
I'll put your buds in a box, like a Large Harvest
You said you'd 3-0 me, but couldn't off Heartless
For selling people those dream you should be con artist
I'm goin' bonkers, every bar a dome shot
Hat low, all in his face, this that old Roc
Two niggas, four burners; nigga, that's that stove top
Magic had a good run; nigga, that's that road block
Y'all think he beat me? Still niggas lyin'
Tell you like I tell the others, I don't feel niggas' rhymes
Who he fooling with them steel gripping lines?
Tell him, fucking with me
You'll get smacked; you on Real Nigga Time