[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 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 n***as don’t try me
Shit ain’t sweet, they must herd to get the beats, that’s why, G
MAK-90 came in like a wrecking ball
Get the hammer lickin': that’s Miley
Try me and I squeeze the piece they 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 'til this cal pop in Black face
Who is BM F’in with?
Against Charlie, you shoulda buried homie
But you barely edged that shit
What I carry like I recorded a marriage ceremony
I woulda got to wettin’ Clips
I should be on every list
But most n***as got it in for Nitty, that shit’ll never end
Let it rip, I ain’t surprised at all, I actually seen it coming
This some bull, the 'net think 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 n***a that grill iced
Fuck with my money, I wouldn’t advise that
Get your eye capped over dough, B, and need an eye patch
9 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 talkin' 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 comin' across trickin' like a Nazi patch, fact!
Watch what the fuck you sayin' 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 air and zone a n***a just for bringin' up the hometown
BOW! You can’t keep it real yourself
N***a, 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 fuckin' threat like Mr. Marcus
Four clap, think of Star Trek, you’re goin' 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 smokin' from the SIG, you’ll get a coffin
I spit somethin' at a n***a that can lift apartments
It’s off the wall how you catch ‘em like Kenny Lofton
Who fuckin' 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 stake 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 hangin' 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
N***as gonna die whenever that lead come
Murder, you give me back words I’ll leave you red, Rum
All black with the loc's on, I’ll burn a hater
Rose the .30-30, you’d think I was the Terminator
Who fuckin' with me? Come get with me if you sick of me
A bad boy, it’s goin' down, I got Nitty beat
So watch your mouth before I come in wildin’
You get these lefts and these rights too if Rum ain’t silent
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, n***a 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 pullin' the pump; if I dump, Nitty gotta run
See I’ll have your shit leakin' from a shot of rum
[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
You’ll get the Bruce Lees, son, I’m not the one for playin' 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 hands, bitch, I’m from Elm Street
Infrared sit on the Glock
Meaning my heat got a ray, I’ll lend you a shot
I’ll give you a box in a hurry with that
This n***a 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 n***a gettin' 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 n***a
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 somethin' cricket then your man die for real
You’ll hear a clickin' while he spittin', I’ll get Black iced, car tailed
But if you hold on them keys, my semi charge
Hit Magic city and strip him for the work: that’s a titty bar
You’re not even ridin' 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 shoulda told B that Nitty not a fluke
Lost to the white boy and came back whippin' n***as
This shit is in my roots
But you? You can’t keep it real yourself
N***a, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… kill yourself!
[Round 2: B Magic]
I say, your last round, I coulda wrote that at a lunch break
Think it’s sweet, I’ll wait 'til his dough rise and take Rum cake
Fuck around and get shot in the face thinkin' this pump fake
Maybach Music: I got a rose for the gunplay
Come play! N***a, it’s over when I hit the scene
Got a hollow that can make a standup n***a lean
I’m tryin' 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, n***a
Eagles burn, watch me fire birds on a Phoenix n***a
And yet yet I show out with the nina, n***a
And let let my hitman do the remix, n***a
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 'fore 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 n***a like Cecil Gaines
AR, gay bar, walk into it and see a flame
Catch a Tommy comin' 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 n***a card trick
Put these steel arms on your front like a forklift
N***a, I’m the best, Nitty, you should know better
Wanna buy some bars? You’re lookin' at the wholesaler
A go-getter, with these cans I drum
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 wearin' him out like party clothes
N***a, 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 goin' 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 n***a, I tore a wrist trippin’ with this grand cannon
Got n***as in Arizona, grimy cats
Take your change and slide home, no gettin' your diamonds back
One word to describe Rum, I’ma say
Put the letters together from the initials of his state

[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
Before I get into these bars, just peep
This n***a told Roc that he’ll “cream his back like sunblock”
Clearly deserved a pause to me
But I’m finna kill this n***a for y’all all to see
That you’ll never find a n***a from the Lou raw as me
Peep, fake-ass Conceited can’t whoop Nitty
I go ham, so this ain’t fair, a Con type of n***a 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
Wait, you don’t want war, homie
I knew after I’d seen Black fry Day
That he had nothin' else in store for me
I’m finna do him bad, Day
I’m talkin' puttin' 14 in June and take his flag, Day
That nina get the singin', bet you all get wet
Meaning you’re gonna die and a Ross (Diana 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 the Das EFX
Around your neck I squeeze a belt 'til 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 'fore this magic clip gettin' 50 sent
Just tell Magic stick to rappin’
What’s happenin'? 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 G's
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 happenin'? 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 thinkin' that it’s still a game
Murder you, then Roc next like Wilma chain
You can’t keep it real yourself
N***a, suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide… kill yourself!

[Round 3: B Magic]
Peep the way I’m talkin' to cuz
This here flow, pure dope, I’m talkin' 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 missin': that’s a milk carton
If you still talkin' and you jumpin', 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 leakin' when I buck it at ya
When I pull up with that ratchet, a fuckin' 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 n***a slow, think quick when I bust at you
Win a first round in seconds: Lux battle
First the MAC burn Nitty
If they steppin’ with you, then your whole frat turn, Nitty
N***a, listen to the style, you could learn, Nitty
I made it pop to have a good word pattern, Nitty
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 tryin' to unite but I’m comin' after you, Nitty
You don't like it, the heat'll spark ya
I’m killin' n***as on the web like Peter Parker
Lil n***a, your bars low like you need a charger
Me? Tyson with Donald, Broner, Ali and Tarver
The flow flame, cocaine, straight dummy
9 blow, switchin' to Geico couldn’t save money
St. Louis state of mind, n***a, straight scummy
About to pull a n***a 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 mothafuckas scared
I’m from the mothafuckin' Lou, that’s how a mothafucka play it
Beat me? Can you believe what this mothafucka said?
You musta slipped, fell and bumped yo' mothafuckin' head