Loaded Lux vs. Murda Mook Round 1 (2014) lyrics

[Round 1: Loaded Lux (Spoken) *actions*]
(Mook is you ready?
Mook is you ready baby?
Total Slaughter y’all ready?)
King of Harlem muthaf*ckas, I don’t entertain opinions
There’ll be no more victory saving victims
Wish him well judges, and all the paid admission that came to aid the mission
I don’t lose to these lost n*ggas attempting, only thing you gon’ take is attendance
You just an intermission, I’m on a mission, it makes a difference
It was written 2010, that “Watch me Work” video, I gave you the premonition
But this what sipping get you for gifting, forgot you was scheduled for demolition
Addictions is no good for n*ggas when in the trenches
How you wake up an intervention, laying in intensive?
Current position I’m beating you on the numbers
Math did it, now Eminem is, he in addition
He gave you a word problem you can’t solve
How your mind is (minus) going to multiply with
This add out for your division, get the vision?
But this ain't the first time you getting your head split in collisions
Damn homie, on them smack DVDs you was the man homie
*Points to watch* What the f*ck happened to Mook? Y’all saw him in there with Iron
Your opponent was white and the punches was hardly striking
The other thing enticin', it felt like I was watching a last performance from Iron
Mike in the ring, or Mook, good to retire, your story book-ending look better at the pilot
Flying higher than the sun-lit sky, I thought you warmed up n*gga
This new you couldn’t beat a phonebook in a dryer
Yup, yup, I got a new haircut and I’m acting up
Ay, but look at you though, now look at Lux, yeah, and knowing my n*ggas look rich as f*ck
I’m Twooooochains, you could hold the antics, show theatrics. danger: I detect no trench coat with the badges
I had to protect my neck, let the confuser inspect the deck looking for gadgets, I’m jacked in
I’m jacked in n*gga, I’m like a old soul fashion from back when
I bought eighty babies for money making, Manhattan, what happened?
Fly rugged n*ggas, Aladdin, you thinking cat, missed the whole hat trick
Disappeared youngin’ in his wonder years, money, bunny ears pull out on you
It’s f*cking magic, like Co Co, you never had it
This just might f*ck a friendship up to put something up in the cabinets
Oh, we, we just rapping Lux, they want another classic
Bullsh*t n*gga, they want another casket
I see you like to play games but you ain’t never seen it in this graphic, I’m at you, dig down with a gravedigger
Our beef went as far back as when BET taked Tigger in that same picture
No n*ggas, took a whole coat off you, not a drop of paint thinner, ain’t this a...
Not even a picture hang with ya, why incomplete, make compete, no order but wanna eat
I rather rap like a preacher, than act like a priest
What’s with the ass grabbing? You boys lost me, you missed a cheek
Wasn’t [...] now it ain’t no chicken to flee
But you can leave it to a woman to know how these n*ggas sleep
Was your westside man slipping you Dayquil?
Let me find out, he was one of them twenty n*ggas in the showers waiting to Jay males
*Thrusting action* No credit office, you’ll take a deal though to pay a bill
You admit it, you did it for the money
You a prophet puppet, you got corrupted, and you stock deducting
You dry humped through your career, you know who not to f*ck with
Y’all all drunken in public, the other n*ggas is duckin’
They all getting socked and snucked in they runnin’s
How your folks will function proper, your breath smell, more punches than broadway Rocky numbers
I don’t knock you n*gga but god damn it, they think they thought lollipops was suckers
You oughta f*ck while they stuck by ya
The Ruff Ryder in the lane with the truck tire
I drove all the way from Jersey with this arsenal, I got out of K-Camp
It’s nothing to uppercut a b*tch off, I bust drivers n*gga, right in they mouth
You going to jail now *looks at watch*
All the dirt, delivery like a hearse
You gonna get it the worse my n*gga, but not the first
Mase ain’t the only Murda that ended up in a church
You a whore, what this n*gga know about war?
That’s just some sh*t he had on yesterday and the day before
You’ll be another dead homie, hey, the trip keeper said he blew it ‘cause he never read up on me
Tonight you n*ggas with rhymes learn
Wise words for anybody who got nerves
Don’t be another Murda Mook here on this live serve
I will ball upside to your head to your sideburns n*gga
Whip ‘em all over the street like wide turns, this where the tide turn sharp
I’m parked at the jaw stop harder your kock off, onslaught
Man to man this n*gga a dog walker
On the second thought, you the opposite actually, get me, you pus*y
That’s Chinese fortune, gon' be cookie everywhere when this cat eat with me
My rap dark, bad start thinking he mad smart
My shot right, I got a supermarket in plan, this path marked
Mook, you couldn’t shine my war boots
My son need food for his mind, I’m who he talk to
They got me feeling like the man when I walk through
We can’t just listen to any one of y’all get a floor too
But when we need a n*gga to mop, we’ll call Mook
I will battle anyone on this call with the hand of Jesus
Tell that n*gga don’t ever throw rocks at the sun, he can’t reach it, work n*gga
[Round 1: Murda Mook (Spoken) *actions*]
(Yo, I ain’t really get half that sh*t he said, but hey, let me give you some gangsta sh*t now
Since y’all have seem to forgotten me)
I say yo, against Calicoe, we was loving it
But now though, I think I speak for me and a whole list of others when I tell you we done got sick and tired of your mumbling
We in a situation perpetuated and delegated by the mothership and all this other sh*t
n*gga, shut your lips, you thinking we f*cking with that righteous bullsh*t?
When n*ggas' mothers was out here struggling?
And y’all let him diss n*ggas for hustling?
I tell you what, the same day n*ggas like us’ll stop selling illegal substances
Will be the same day Magic Johnson can get on TV and tell Donald Sterling to suck his di*k
But now for these bars that I’m tucking in, weight, you be a bench
See Lux, we dead animals but we eclipse the battle rap [...]
But cat, peep the twist, I hope you gave your son kiss
Cause I’m ‘bout to show you I’m done with, trying to come to grips with bottling up all this two leader sh*t
So the... hold up, so the fans wanted the old Murda, the du-rag lace [...] straight old Murda
*Removes hat from head* Well y’all naked eyes will have to bare with me this whole murder
Ay, mask on, glove, I ain’t leaving no trace
I’m ‘bout to bring y’all champ pain, and it’s gonna be a cold case
May I propose a toast, “hey congrats” and clap
I put tubes in his di*khead like a catheter
I propel him to a massacre
Long chopper, this b*tch hold thirty-two passengers
(Oh my...Hold up, let me work, let me work)
All this fake teaching you preaching, n*ggas done had enough
Cause you a false prophet, money, you don’t be adding up
For example, he crafted up he used to “battle on the roof and the loser had to jump”
That was cute but in real life I had to battle for the stoop and the losers had the pump *gun loading action*
See we slave for this white, boy, that cotton out here in the field Lux, you know how that feel Lux?
Baby mom’s is a nuisance and you up to your neck in bills Lux?
I know for a fact you know cats who sold crack and walk track through the court system
I wonder if you tell some of your friends they lost n*ggas
But speaking of lost n*ggas and court systems, Lord forgive him
But his right hand man Sam, damn, that was a travesty
I heard the D.A. jogged his memory so fast he was losing calories
They had him sketching pictures of n*ggas like he was in an art gallery
sh*t, I heard when Sam sung he indicted the whole galaxy
(The f*ck, you thought this n*gga could f*ck with me? The f*ck is wrong...)
But don’t be mad at me, check it, I ain’t clockin’ his track record
I’m just baton waiting, I’m relaying what’s coming back to me
Actually, since this his show, I wanna borrow something from Eminem
Roll camera, me and this Lux theme was imminent
Cut scene if it is too obscene to vision
Not personal, all these productions is dividends
I just came to snatch the purse off a senior citizen
Not a senior citizen but a scene ya sit us in
See we olympians, so like the high-jump, putting your back on the floor is the goal
So when that heat point, back up, cause my demeanor is cold
When that heat point back up, cause my demeanor is c…
Oh wait a god damn minute, the heat point, back up, sounds like de-mean-Norris Cole
Ay, I bring him Oklahoma thunder, he talking, we tear his block up
Soon as he chant durant, he gonna hear the semi-baca
Jack son for his big face, ain’t talking twenty dollars
He getting cooked right in front of y’all, welcome to Benihana’s
I said now let me be chiro-practical
And take a crack back at Cal, I’m just asking “how?”
Wow, me and my pals laughed at Lux choke so loud it was hard to breathe
I felt like Moses ‘cause that was me and my whole staff' favorite part to see
Pardon me for being type hurt *pretend types on keyboard*
When I did the site search you questioning my worth
If you wanna fight first then let’s get it
Knife worth, get ripped like a tight shirt when you stretched in it
Pipe burst, n*gga you light work like electricians
Take your hands off your hip n*gga, listen
(Hold that time) Ay, what happened to the Lionz Den?
Kid Capri said you still have to pay him, every week it was more delayin’
You either pay me or I walk away that was his ultimatum
You told him “well walk away then” but you ain’t even fault to blame him
He knew since you was on the cam a lot, you’d be dragging your feet, so of course he knew you’d slay him
Though you had the battles in bulk, like the Incredible Hulk, y'all had the mean run
But it was kid who gave you juice sweetie, you was Capri son
Yo, yo, yo why do you pile, yo when he rapping why do you pile up your syllables?
And try to distort n*gga’s mental views, hyphen and hyphen and hyphen and hyphen not
I’m not dissing you, it’s just a fact, when you rap like that it’s not visual
You take a phrase real simple and then you make it real difficult
It’s a difference between lyrical than just rhyming a bunch of words n*ggas really ain’t trying to listen to
And you think you tricked them dudes? But n*ggas knew what you was been getting through
So you f*cking up my Christmas too, cause the surprise is petty
Look at it like this: what good is having a gift rapping if the recipients know what’s inside already?
See, it was you who dissed us for selling drugs and toting Glocks
It’s safe to say you David Blaine, you put yourself in a box
Cause now, if he try to rap hard saying “well they only bars”, it’s still against what he believe in
He’ll be depicted as a fraud, so what’s your card?...