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go-rilla warfare - bigg k vs. math hoffa lyrics

[round 1: bigg k]
it’s math hoffa the jab proper
he throwin’ like iron mike, i’m draggin’ around a llama like napoleon dynamite
shotgun pellets, a pump loaded with mike & ike
no aim, i spray it like a nose in a firefight
they offered math or big t, that’s a funny question
neither one of them is battles i be double guessin’
i left it up to big kannon, told him, “cut the check in”
they gave me math over t (tea) like a study session
it’s just me and the piece (peace) i don’t meditate
bust his head to the white meat, that’s how i segregate
i got a mean gun b-tt that’ll set him straight
right across the forehead like kevin gates
you ain’t been nice since the verb clash
and these hands do numbers i learned math
you need to come to terms fast that your turn p-ssed
you washed up, let that sink in, take a bird bath
i murk past dumpin’ the ratchet
20 minutes your whole block covered in plastic
i do math dirty, come get ya -ss kicked
get body bagged with a 30, i ain’t come for a cl-ssic
i lift the smith and dent his sh-t in with a pistol whippin’
crack his t–th, he taste the blood when it get to drippin’
stick the pick in, twist it, give him a 100 quick incisions
so if he don’t want the 30 i get a split decision
f-ck math, i’m ridin’ wit it like a bus p-ss
your turtle wax ya baldie and dye your mustache
i spit three 16’s and it’ll crush gl-ss
this bag got me itchin’ like cut gr-ss
you used to be real but now you gettin’ fake
so i’ma take the boy bands then i’m finna skate
get stomped or eat bullets, pick ya fate
i’ma let you choose justin, timb’ or lake (timberlake)
if he in the buildin’ i came to renovate
pop his top then air it out, i let it ventilate
it ain’t a problem puttin’ math on a wall, don’t make me demonstrate
chest shot, sh-t’ll split a plate like a dinner date
i eliminate, hit a face, crack a nose
close range with the mac, make his hat explode
and drag his -ss from the projects through gravel road
feelin’ froggy you get the boot like battle toads
i dance with the devil, i done ran with the wolves
i punch a hole through a sheep and get a handful of wool
you used to be a legend, rappin’ ’bout the hammers you pull
and then you fell off harder than a mechanical bull
that’s cause you ain’t no star like that
snitches get st-tches that’s prolly how you got a scar like that
f-ck ya six slogans, them sh-ts ain’t hard like that
you just cheatin’ the fans outta hearin’ new bars like that

[round 1: math hoffa]
right now k is like, “finally…
(daddy’s spendin’ time with me)
first of all, you look like you belong on duck dynasty
free bump j
shout out my chi n-ggas that ride wit me
but let me talk to these fans who judge biasly
i don’t understand how y’all treat certain rappers like god
i feel like superman in jail, i just laugh at they bars
i don’t know if it’s they swag, or how they p-ss they facade
these n-ggas rappin’ ’bout murders, they all actors and frauds
it can’t be the bars
i told arsonal, “you get the cans like tuna fish”
n-ggas went crazy, i thought that was lame, so i redo the sh-t
i said, “you get the cans like cam’ had to do to mitch
but instead of takin’ bricks from you i’ma take you from the bricks”
to me that’s hard but n0body reacted
“the bricks” is a term for jers’, paid in full was a cl-ssic
so when i go to write some ill sh-t sometimes i retract it
cause i don’t know if half you motherf-ckers will catch it
and it’s tragic
it’s supposed to be a cl-ssic?
i’ll bury k, i’m scary
i got to many guns, they could vary k
if i miss him with the nine, through the window while he stare away
the mac will ring and make up on his door like mary k
body sh-t!
i hold a chopper steady like poligrip
creep up, shhh, before the murder on some bobby sh-t
you writin’ love letters to ya b-tch on some “sorry” tip
boom! now you got a ghost writer on some tsunami sh-t
now k gon’ say some sh-t
if he throw me facts, don’t react
cause after this is done, he givin’ pounds that sh-t only rap
i swear i got these rounds in a bag; pepperoni pack
dumpin’ at the side of his house that’s a smoky gat
you in the trap? you gettin’ money? n-gga not today
i dress up like a fiend and walk up like i’ma got an eighth
shakin’, he like, “this man hooked.” then he get dr. j’d
wake up missin’ drugs in the stack like far rockaway
rest in peace
i be stressed til i address the beef
tec flurry, steph’ curry, it’s the best release
i’ll body ya moms, stretch ya niece, even ya ex deceased
they like, “d-mn, why you blew (blue) his ex, man (x-man)?”
n-gga just a beast!
what’s up n-gga?
you got punches? i got punches, so what you sayin’ b-tch?
you throwin’ randoms tryin’ to lay a hit
and i’ma money may’ your sh-t
like i’ma lose to a n-gga who hit the lake and fish
look taylor swift
i can take this off the hook, f-ck the bait and sh-t
but you know what? i f-ck wit you k even though i know you a plagiarist
cause every time you rap all i ever hear is jadakiss
yeah you throw punches, but your flow? god d-mn that’s the same as sh-t
so take his d-ck out ya mouth while i quote one of my favorites
“for all you new rappers for the thousandth time
i don’t recall hittin’ ya moms or writin’ ya rhymes
and even though you might’ve seen me in and out of her house
there’s no way she could have a baby white as a mouse”
hoffa

[round 2: bigg k]
aye look, you ate bonnie godiva’s -ss? that ain’t honorary
you need to give your life to god and hit the monastery
smokin’ blunts with math? that’s all kinds of scary
f-ck groceries, that’s eatin’ the booty like commessary
i said yo, it’s math hoffa the -ss gobbler
he finna spaz out, he suck a fart out ya b-tt hole and spit it back out
how ya l!ck the doo doo maker til you p-ss out?
then go to the crib and kiss the kids wit that mouth
sh-t stains on ya tongue like “hold these youngin”
i flew all the way to the chi i’m ’bout to cochise somethin’
he don’t even want the p-ssy he get no cheeks from ’em
just put the crack in his mouth like the police comin’
i’ve been in the mix, give me a semi to grip
thought i was breakin’ down roaches, i empty the clip
you can’t hit my bottle, i won’t give you a sip
cause that sh-t on yo’ lip really got sh-t on its lip
don’t crack a smile we isn’t friends
you bring a whole new meaning to a “sh-t eating grin”
and if math get bodied we won’t see him again
aaron hernandez i’m mvp with the pen
day a liar, my whole city know k a rider
and you don’t want no smoke like a vaporizer
now you ’bout to get burnt for tryin’ to play with fire
your soul’s (soles) on the line it ain’t sneakers on the cable wire
when the gunnin’ i ain’t runnin’, i stood still dumpin’
i been everywhere from the hood to the foothills pumpin’
you rap like it, but i don’t think he would k!ll nothin’
i’m trashin’ math like the janitor in good will hunting
a clean sweep, i don’t toot my h-rn but beep beep
two guns, bang bang i’m chief keef
if i’m not a relief then you gotta be sleep
i’m tryin’ to bring the game back and i ain’t got a receipt
he weak, the fans hate you math
i only booked this battle so i can say you trash
a dropout with no cl-ss, that’s how they grade you math
so of course i don’t get credit for when i take you math
but the weapon in the tahoe, he fled then i’ma follow
l.o.m. clothing, step into a hollow
sayin’ he would touch me, i must be next at the apollo
cause math washed up, that’s a message in a bottle
you the lamest in history, i came for the victory
bird it’s a stickup, you gettin’ flamed in rotisserie
big man on campus, nothin’ he’s gon say that’s gon get to me
i’m in the buildin’ droppin’ 30 on math like i’m payin’ tuition fees
i know you sick math flips, d-mn it i feel ya
you take ya hat off you look like anderson silva
and now you face to face with a man that’ll k!ll ya
but wait til that third round i got a plan to reveal ya

[round 2: math hoffa]
yo shut the f-ck up!
these n-ggas hype cause you talk so tough
but i be like, “look at slim jesus. all grown up.”
if k wanna be a boss he get that marlo cut
and if you duck i keep cuttin’ til he cornrowed up
now jc said i’ma lose cause he the dim witted kind
my punches go over heads of a simpleton’s mind
i’ma turn k to bubba sparxxx but y’all should think and rewind
cause first i’ma drop him then he get the timberland (timbaland) sign
i got this baby nine though, can’t front it’s kinda tiny size
but d-mn, it ain’t miss a violator since lighty died
i still got that ox, i give n-ggas the grimy side
the scar healin’ bubble like an air max ’95
tell drago he can’t drop ole rocko
that rock gon’ pop, i watch yo’ top go taco, that’s a pothole
compared to when that shotgun c-cked though
that hole look like the vatos came and got el chapo
you hustle dope? you hustlin’ dope, right?
what you got? the keys or the grams?
i’m tryin’ to cop, we gon’ rob him, he don’t see it’s a scam
i’m like, “let’s meet. i’m at virginia beach with my man.”
he leave the block, my son burn him then i leave with a tan
and he don’t understand
i changed my name to juice, n-ggas askin’ what that mean
that means i’m f-ckin’ sick and tired of math schemes
they all say the same sh-t against the god; blasphem’
well take your shot, my shot’s secure like a vaccine
y’all like when n-ggas spit bars? or y’all like when they yell and they act mean?
i spit for those that like to figure out what the rap mean
i don’t know where to land doe (lando) so i throw ’em tag teams
it’s a harder way (hardaway) to score but my setups are shaq screens
it’s magic
you don’t catch it when i p-ss it? just think quick
you charlie sheen, just came on the scene, i’ve been sick
i came here to make a statement, all you haters can drink d-ck
i’m leavin’ kenneth cold (cole) leave his soul (sole) like a wing tip
you can’t give a n-gga props for some sh-t that he don’t have
i’m a n-gga with an att-tude, you straight outta locash
a chick said he top 5 but his performance is so trash
that’s like puttin’ a whistle in a purse and tryin’ to call it a coach bag
what would battle rap be if it wasn’t for me?
how the f-ck could you eat if it wasn’t for me?
your whole image say smack, you got your buzz from a league
that started on my back salute your og n-gga

[round 3: bigg k]
i said i figured this one time i got to give you somethin’
i’d rather spit them punchlines that have the venue jumpin’
what you gon’ try to “real” me to death? b-tch you frontin’
stop actin’ like you the only one that been through somethin’
this world is f-cked up, that’s sad but it’s true
what goes around comes around we get back what we do
you got famous for snuffin’ dose not raps with the crew
and that was real f-ckin’ funny til it happened to you
but you blame everybody else like, “ayo bb. get my lawyer on the line. they owe me g’s
who clips and ice ain’t help? they gon’ see me
you put the smack in smack then the knocked out in kotd
and the way you been actin’ had everything to do with these rhymes
i ain’t no nothin’ ’bout nothin’ and i’m cool with each side
but when that footage hit the web all i could do is rewind
if you ain’t want him to duff you, you shouldn’t have told him to do three times
i wasn’t even in the buildin’, i couldn’t bounce to save ya
i was walkin’ venice beach with an ounce of flava
when it popped off, i ain’t find out til later
that they was in there ringin’ math b-ttons like a calculator
so look, at this point in life just be happy you exist
you got snuffed, so what? now stop actin’ like a b-tch
cause ever since that happened our conversations gettin’ h-lla short
it’s like he mad at me cause i didn’t teleport
you askin’ me to pick sides, sucka relax
i don’t know if they set you up or planned to jump you like that
i’m supposed to stop battlin’ over there when they comin’ with racks?
when url did me dirty did you stop f-ckin’ with smack?
nah, cause that how brooklyn do
now every time i look at you i see the face you made before dizaster start hookin’ you
the same face you was makin’ when calicoe was cookin’ you
and that hard head won’t be nothin’ to put a bullet through
you think you bigger than battle rap, that’s how i know you corny
if it wasn’t for battle rap, i wouldn’t know your story
that’s why you popped your hubcaps on the road to glory
and you plottin’ a comeback when you close to 40
nah, f-ck that sh-t, i’m the wrong person to try to get a buzz back wit
in the crib loadin’ the yopper like i love that b-tch
fillin’ the tommy on the carpet like a rugrats fl!ck and let it rip
i’m certified don’t be playin’ wit me
this is more than meets the eye or what you able to see
so next time don’t say it to twitter, say it to me
and be that stand up gangsta that you claimin’ to be
but you not cause you at home wit ya b-tch watchin’ soap operas
i’m uptown negotiating with the c0ke shoppers
mac-10’s, sk’s, both choppers
right hooks, left hooks, what’s that?
(show stoppers!)

[round 3: math hoffa]
i don’t know what the f-ck he talkin’ ’bout i can’t front
you said you was on venice beach or some sh-t, you a godd-mn punk
cause you was in the buildin’ but i ain’t gotta worry what this n-gga gon’ do
cause everybody know that white boys can’t jump
man f-ck this n-gga
but i got a question k, i got a question
how you white and black at the same time?
this n-gga so black his wife told him that she was pregnant and he responded, “it ain’t mine.”
you got that jadakiss flow, with your fitted low with some great lines
it’s funny that we don’t notice dna the way that k-shine
but for me it’s different, cause i got this memory in my head and it just won’t escape mine
cop put his gun in my face when i was like, eight-nine
years old, he was bold he did that sh-t in the daytime
but the illest sh-t about it, is you got his face, slime
ever since that day i ain’t look at the world with the same mind
i was criminalized, taught to f-ck the law and embrace crime
that’s ill, right? cause what i’m spittin’ is real life
so how can you relate to me if you don’t know what that feels like?
90% of this crowd know what that feels like
the cops roll up you feel freight
then you remember, “huh. i’m still white.”
so how’s a crook from the brook’ gonna fear ya
i’ll bring you to my world, yo’ -ss would be shook like shakira
but you trappin’, right? aight, you pushin’ i hear ya
but the only bird you ever seen is when you look in the mirror
f-ck you talkin’ ’bout n-gga? you don’t know what it’s like
huggin’ the block like when you hold on your wife
when it’s lonely at night
moms preachin’, tryin’ to show you the light
cause you went cookin’ and find the bundles in the bowl with the rice
ak behind the dresser, deuce goin’ to school
you’se a fool, you prolly think thuggin’ is cool
no it’s the rules
when you grow up with a government screwed
you got options, die in a robbery or tuck in your jewels
my n-gga let me ask you
you ever seen your man’s brains in the street and curse that day cause you ain’t have your stainless in reach?
i’ve been through all types of sh-t, but now my aim is to teach
i’m such a stand up n-gga sometimes i pray on my feet
i play that brooklyn role, n-ggas wish that h-ll would cook my soul
cause when they bring my name up, they start pointin’ at bullet holes
be lucky i chose rap cause the other path i could’ve chose
will put your body in a state where your body bag wouldn’t close
n-gga, you don’t got bars like this
look at my face, look at my knuckles, you don’t got scars like this
you got punches, but you ain’t makin’ worldstar like this
come see my next battle in london i’ma talk that sh-t
hoffa

- go rilla warfare lyrics

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