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lirik lagu king of the dot - b magic vs e ness

[round 1: e ness]
i pull a rabbit out the hat, make this n-gga disappear
you came to see a magic show, everybody listen here
you call this n-gga top tier, i am on a different tier
i came back cooking, n-ggas acted like he didn’t care
i rip your f-cking heart out ya’ chest b, give it here
don’t matter how i get my point across long as i get it there
now when you mention magic, it just mean misdirection
a lot of smoke and mirrors just a big misconception
you a vampire scared to look at your reflection
’cause you don’t see sh-t like the colours you be reppin’
”cause you don’t see sh-t, the colors you be reppin’?’
watch me work my magic ’cause he gullible as ever
i can’t stop, won’t stop, king of the dot or don’t flop
you can land every punchline, and i won’t drop
i ride around banging my sh-t, i’m on my own top, i’m on my own d-ck, i’m self-made, built my own spot
you open pandora’s box to realise that you’re a thot, the .40 pop
hit you, then paralyse your shorty wop
you heard blue magic and went crazy when the chorus drop
these shots is unorthodox, the metaphors are scorching hot
i don’t see you reach a whole bunch, but you force a lot
out-of-town shooters in your crib: that’s a tourist spot
i’m sh-tting on n-ggas anywhere, that’s a porta pott’
i whip yo’ -ss on cam like game did to 40 glocc
this ratchet here’s the truth serum, i let the deuce-deuce air him
sn-tch every chain he got and let my new boo wear ’em
knock out his front tooth, then i rob the tooth fairy
crip walk on his back then roll up the blueberry
i said that chain on ya’ neck becomes a chain in my hand
i slide it in my pocket but you can’t understand
i ain’t even p-wn it, i just gave it to my man
and that’s what the f-ck i call a chain of command
magic you just make believe, i’m like sugar ray with these
i poo pat, twist ya’ cap back, 98 degrees
i’m edward scissorhands, i been chopping all day with these
you came from out the pg’s, made it to the major leagues
f-ckboy, you can suck a d-ck, with the aids disease
that house in virginia, got you shakier than make-believes
i’m dj khaled with the flow, i got major ki’s
so all the talk about i’m washed up, you can save it please
i pay-to-play, machine gun drum, that’s an 808
i shoot both ya’ legs off, make sure you stay awake
ya’ street cred, and ya’ gang ties is on lay away
my street cred, and my gang ties is doing a-okay
i been f-cking with the white girl before labor day
all-white everything, even after labor day
treadmill, running through a track, i’m on a paper chase
run up on ya’ baby mom, shoot her on her labor day
see n-ggas don’t like to hear the truth but here it goes
i’ma fry you n-ggas till i’m 50 years old
’cause when i wear [?] it’s like 50 pair of those
i got 22 questions to ask, with air holes
time

[round 1: b magic]
n-gga my sh-t ill, in other words my rhyming sick
choppers in ya’ mouth n-gga, you gon’ face the consequence
and it’s common sense, it’s wild style when i palm the fifth
that bullet hit man that mean i’m wildin’ out with these kind of clips
open hand e. honda hits, ya’ top’ll paint the floor
i’m next door, acting like i’m knocking on ya’ neighbor’s door
he walk up, i run up, magic what you got the banger for?
i raise the arm, and this sh-t is not to make a toast
i get it popping, i’m as c-cky as the rock and came to grow
i pop out like a paparazzi with a shotty hanging low
ya’ whole body swing the door, everybody trained to go
and you gon’ see the steel i rise like maya angelou
switch it up, this hot sh-t, i see through him like a oven door
i f-ck this n-gga b-tch, trip, he ain’t ever f-cked before
she said the n-gga weak, and she make him sleep on the f-cking floor
he used to run from n-ggas now he, do it on the hoverboard
would i walk for cake n-gga? h-ll no
neither for cambodian breast milk for the chappelle show
i ask the plug for the ludicrous, and he throw in a elbow
your amazon’ll get this fire stick, that b-tch’ll get jail broke
i’m cold heat, with all types of clips, f-ck how you built cuz
i’m missing screws, go take a p-ss in your daughter’s swimming pool
i’m strapped up with two fours on me, like griffey shoes
when i pull up, i bet you all change like jiffy lube
this magic b-tch, old n-gga that’s why you go for the ratchet ness?
tragic yes, ’bout to throw a bullet in his f-ggot chest
let me hear you talking down, and i’ma go and grab the tec
and leave you lost boy, i love piece that’ll make you nap e ness
bars, heavy metal on stage, let’s have a rock fest
you looking for a monster, well i got this sh-t on lock ness
the block best, with the behavior of a stoner
trash n-gga, i see brenda baby is all grown up
i be hopping out the regal fresh
riding to some dj khaled feeling like we the best
hold up, i teach you ness
with some bullets the size of baby birds sitting inside this eagle ness
i need respect
round one

[round 2: e ness]
b motherf-cking magic, now what the f-ck happened?
last smack event you robbed smack with no ratchet
they paid you up front if you ain’t show up to the battle
if i smack i’ll smack the pulp out ya’ apple
how smack let you hit him with the razzle dazzle
you left him up sh-t creek without a f-cking paddle
i hate when you f-ck-n-ggas do bad business
but i heard you did slimy sh-t to mad n-ggas
you came to philly, battled bill, then choked on the battlefield
then you ran from what’s-his-face, you should run for track and field
ya’ black -ss, should stay in the lou, sit back and chill
and let real n-ggas like me stack a half a mill’
this n-gga’s in his period, somebody p-ss the m-ssengill
ness’d never do a no-show but b magic will
i fly his head ‘cross the hill, him, jack, jill
and that’s why n-ggas like you will never have a deal
you will get ya’ cabbage peeled, then i do the cabbage patch
the self proclaimed king of battle rap, you can have it back
i wrote battle raps before battle rap was battle rap
you feel lucky? where ya’ rabbit foot? blaow, battle that
rest in peace to mike brown, rest in peace to trayvon
i move sh-t all across the board, let’s have a seance
e. honda, hundred hand slap wit’ a napalm
treat you like the mailman, let you meet the k nines
i’m back on my chubby sh-t, my j.b.m. bucky sh-t
my ‘that sh-t nutty’ sh-t, and f-ck who you buddies with
and f-ck that little thot, you be getting lovey-dovey with
the rubber grip’ll send b magic to the mothership
now b magic you’re not savage, you’re bubblegum
i got the eight plus one under the c-mmerbund
now come and get this -ss-whipping you been running from
i ain’t gon’ lay you on the slab, i tuck you under one
overhand uppercut, karma is a motherf-ck
i’m smoking one, while i’m rolling one, that’s a double dutch
buck fifty, on each side, to fill my double cup
i punch you in ya’ chest so hard, he get the bubbleguts
and i ain’t gotta slow it down, you know i just dissed you
like billy crystal, i get silly with the pistol
i represent the me-unit, philly ain’t the issue
you get the sharpshooter followed by the russian sickle
’cause n-ggas don’t like to hear the truth but here it goes
i’m 38 but my mac-11 20 years old
’cause when i wear [?] it’s like 20 pair of those
i got 22 questions to ask, with air holes

[round 2: b magic]
this the word y’all
he tryna throw y’all for a curveball
the mac’ll shoot that’ll clap on ya’ roof, that’s a bird call
in the dictionary, there should be a picture of ness beside the word ‘fraud’
and every biker boy–ss n-gga wit’ you beside the word ‘broad’
scratch that, i got something better, i’m robbing ya’ mans
a bullet’ll melt in ya’ mouth if a knot in ya’ hand
i’m a hustler, huddle up, when i got the advance
all percs, i flip scrips like it’s not in the plans
you n-ggas die when it’s…
…..like it’s not in the plans
look
when i fire the eight
you’re shot talking, it was something he was dying to say
try anyway, worst-case scenario you dying today
bullets like dishonest n-ggas, they’ll lie in ya’ face
i’m hot ness, i will make a mac clip steam
i mean it’s huge, you know it’s over when this fat b-tch sing
k!ll me? sh-t, n-gga how would that sh-t seem?
this b-tch different now that you here like a catfish scene
i hit his cap, hips, spleen, you’ll ride in the dumpster
goldeneye 007, you’ll get shot in the bunker
these motherf-ckers knowing that my type wild
knock his leg off, now hip hop is his lifestyle
listen, f-ck you talking–ss n-ggas
no life, just another battle-watching–ss n-gga
you really a magic-fan-till-the-coffin–ss n-gga
be all at the computer screaming “magic, talk to that n-gga!”
i say you dumb, if it’s beef, then it’s gunplay beef
you n-ggas sunday sweet, and you will one day see
you’ll get cafeteria room metal lunch tray beef
if ya’ style was a road it’d be a one-way street
can you hear me? am i loud enough? my crew shoot seven
you wanna know where these bullets leave you from this two-two? heaven
helen martin with this two-two-three, that mean this old b-tch hanging out the window n-gga, 227

[round 3: e ness]
now when i go to the lou’, i got my magnum wit’ me
’cause i always pull a b-tch outta magic city
-ss and t-tties, i’m still spending cash from diddy
feel like i’m loaded lux i brought the casket with me
see i pull up in that cinnabon, i might just have to give you one
n-ggas looking at the bullet hole like “who you get it from?”
you ain’t got no swag, you’re swagger-less
i drink actavis, my ratchet cl!ck
i twist your wig around, push it back a bit
stacking chips, at the coffee table, we just cracking bricks
and i mix the brown with the white, i call it kaepernick
i roll up half a zip, got ya’ b-tch, on my magic stick
and i brought the colt .45 from indianapolis
my first half and second half, before you had ya’ first half
n-ggas talking ’bout i’m washed up, i took a bird bath
and my pockets stuffed in that truck when i swerve past
every day i dress way better than this dirtbag
now shout out to spice gang, y’all n-ggas weird
don’t ever try to count my pocket, who the f-ck cares
i pick you off like asomugha, scoop ya’ b-tch like häagen-dazs
hit you with the foreman grill, turn your face to waffle fries
man you’re such a d-ckhead, worried ’bout ya’ condom size
my life filled with drama, this llama leave you traumatised
i got the lil uzi vert tucked under the a boogie
pacific ocean on the lil’ yachty and some p-ssy
21 savages, dropping off packages
a gladiator in the ring, i’m moving like i’m maximus
see, you might bang magic, but you don’t live this life
take a leap of faith, then turn the b-tch, into big’s wife
i been here for two days n-gga, where y’all at?
i flew here on a plane playing ar-ab
i stuck around all these years just to make y’all mad
n-ggas owe me for child support, you need to pay y’all dad
they say b magic this, and b magic that
well let me demonstrate how b magic raps
six or, catch a clip full, get ya’ sh-t poured
like a hamstring, in chi-town, i’m with the sh-ts boy
tip off, you get hip tossed, i’m the pit boss
i ain’t come to kid and play with him, he get crisscrossed
big dog, ’bout to lift off, when the fifth draw
and ya’ b-tch subst-tute my d-ck for her lip gloss
now tell tay roc, he don’t want to go through it
it’s so easy that a caveman can do it
get it, tay roc, he represent the cave gang
well he’ll catch a big exit wound when the gauge bang
if tsu surf, add his two cents, he get the same thing
it’s lights out, and sh-t get dark in here without the beijing
’cause n-ggas don’t like to hear the truth but here it goes
i’ma fry you n-ggas till i’m 50 years old
’cause when i wear [?] it’s like 50 pair of those
i got 22 questions to ask, with air holes

[round 3: b magic]
n-gga i done battled, crips, bloods, vice lords, stan n-ggas
couple of n-ggas i don’t like, couple i consider fam n-gga
but you, e ness, i just gotta give a hand n-gga
you made it this far in battle rap, as a band member
see all my real pen-heads know i’m a h-ll-raiser
12 blaze ya’, you’ll get a k into ya’ knot
bullets spray into ya’ top, they like “ay e is you shot?”
the blade’ll make sure the next sucker laying in a box
i had the doctors like “y’all, we gonna lose him”
i’m on the set with the tool n-gga, that’s home improvement
the best to do it, believe it or not
have ya’ cap spinning before the battle, i’m the king of the dot
you understand me? i make yo’ fam leak, the 40 off ya’
i’m loaded for this murder, this gon’ be a total slaughter
see i make ya’ b-tch scream when i’m bagging her
he’ll walk in with the long face while i’m stabbing her
look, i spit horror, this sh-t ain’t a game
the candy man, the urban legend, i got skittles for days
and the house on a haunted hill by camp crystal and lake
if his child play, these toys k!ll, i spit on ya’ grave
this sh-t scary, like, like, being in a group with dylon
or saying e ness is a battle rap icon
my grind bomb, n-gga you will die when that heat spark
you on the wrong side of the curb tryna be street smart
it’s b magic motherf-cker, the show arrive
hit him with the pump, i’ll k!ll this little c-nt
knock the center of his melon in the middle of his lunch
texas video shoot, you’ll get lit up in the trunk
turn him underground king
see look, i’m a pimp, see
i will wave caps under ya’ fitted that’s memph bleek
you say you bring more to combat you must be blinder than kenshi
look
i told him once, these motherf-ckers scared
i’m from the motherf-cking lou’, that’s how a motherf-cker (play it)
beat me, can you believe, (what this motherf-cker said?
you must’ve slipped, fell, and bumped yo’ motherf-cking head)

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