[Round 1: Math Hoffa]

Right now, Diz is like, finally

Abu is spending time with me

Let's get to it, a battle or a fight?

What you people really trying to see?

Cause I don't give a fuck, either one of them is fine with me

I'm a G, it's too many hypocrites in this society

How many times y'all watched that Jones clip? Don't lie to me

It seems y'all got a fatal attraction for my variety

They tell me grow up, I'm Peter Pan, they get fly with me, I'm stealing

My hook's like piracy, but I agree

Battle rappers shouldn't act violently, it ain't a nice look

But this is hip hop, so you can blow up with the right hook, I'm back, y'all

Haters form a line on my sack, so you can say you stood with me when you heard I got blackballed

My chances with getting a match were slim as a scratch-off

But thanks to these wack, soft, amateur jack offs, and top-tier niggas that slacked off

Now my phone's ringing off the hook like Jones when he backed off, let's talk facts

Before your first match, I was that nigga, the click-clack cap peeler, that Brooklyn vernacular

I held you back in Canada, you wanted to scrap

Them white boys saw some Math in D like Mac Miller, you rap filler

Your flow's easy to track, if Eminem held a class on how Arabs could rap iller

I'll look at you and see a star pupil, you Jack Thriller

In that Total Slaughter match, yeah, I choked but came back killer

Looking at my phone - I ain't never do that, nigga

Thought I was watching 24 with your battle with Pat

Cause you choked, but to save the day, you ran to that Jack, nigga

You was on the stage, looking all suspenseful, coming off your temple

But you lost your tempo, what happened to that freestyle that we thought was special?

You looked in your phone to look at the rhymes Caustic texted you

Flashback, I catch Diz in a whip, I pull him out the Jag

Chop his calf with a machete until it drop in half

Flip him over like, is you ready? Then I pop the mag

Things a black man gotta do just to stop a cab

Remember that? I should've killed you sooner

But I knew you'd come back this road, I see the future

No, I'm lying, I needed Uber

You Jesus in L.A.? That's cool cause I reviewed the scripture

They booked the Matthew for Driveby, a crew should fix ya

If you don't throw a strike, then Organik 'bout to lose a picture

I came on stage with a tool to stick ya

I said, if you don't throw a strike, your organs is going to lose a pitcher

Stupid, I'm talking about your fluids, nigga

Who you fooling? I was chewing you in Brooklyn, you just some leftovers

Escaped the belly of the beast, guess you the next Jonah

This where Dizaster reign? It's time he met Noah

You delusional, this your funeral, you a meth smoker

Get sober, they gon' say that nigga Math left BOLA

With the head of the heads bolas dead soldier over his left shoulder

You don't got bars like that

I know y'all like, why he doing Akbar like that?

So try not to fall asleep, you know his bars type wack

[Round 1: Dizaster]

You ready?

I said, you better not do something stupid

Cause they gon' lose you out in Cali, Math

After this, we gon' have a shooting battle from the Cadillac

You didn't hear me, I said if you do something stupid, we gon' start shooting in the middle of the battle like Cadalack

Now we out the west, he coastin'

It's Math Hoffa, accepts two battles in one week's span so the other one gets less promotion

It's true, in a week he's going to step to O-Red

He has a death wish, let him go then

If he survives here, in a week, he'd be leaking everywhere just like Edward Snowden

Last time we battled, you choked, d-d-duh-duh-did I hear Math stutter?

Long blade like this hands smothered with all types of saw buzzers and slab cutters

Catch a butterfly to your mouth like the bitch from the Silence of the Lambs cover, damn, brother

This is the last saga of Math Hoffa

Hat's off, he's a slap boxer, why you mad?

Punchlines never land proper so he'll put hands on ya

For the sake of shock value, he's a black Blanka

He said if we piss him off, he gon' let the gat "blaka"

HA, HAHA

One false move, we gon' feed you all types of shells from clam pasta

To crab lobster to trash off of a can if you keep acting like a trash talker

You gon' get the large can till they start calling Math Oscar

You get your ass shot, operation Black Water, watch Math drop so fast

He hit the floor flat on your back like an ab rocker

That Glock in my hand cocked, you will see clips from the smith flying like Hancock

Damn, Hoffa

It's Hoffa doggie, here to fuck up another classic with one of his sucker tactics

But today is like a court date, we all get to judge who Math is

He went a whole round with Jones, and no one reacted

Till he finally swung on him and that was his first punch that landed

Yo, go get a punching bag next time you wanna practice

Instead of feeding your brother a knuckle sandwich and shutting down Summer Madness

Your words don't connect, so you swing to get your punches across

That's how much of a buster Math is

Yeah, that's why you never get no respect

That's why you never get no respect

What happened? Why you want to punk dudes like little Mookie and T-Rex?

What happened last time you came to L.A.? Where was your reflex?

When you got water poured all over your shoes and you got G checked

I guess you could say it was his first time in L.A. and he was still getting his feet wet

You socked so many skinny motherfuckers that didn't drop, I'm somewhat amazed

Just off of that, I could call you a pussy in hundreds of ways

But I'd rather sum it up in one phrase

Your battle with Daylyt's the only time you've ever slept someone on stage, shit

If he's an N.Y. thug, I'm a Star Wars militia trooper

If he got his pistol, I'm set tripping in the missile cruiser

But I got the pistol, too, I'm a skillful user

Click-click, you end up missing from the clip, like the hidden blooper

Ain't shit that you could do to convince me that this kid's a shooter

I'll have the homie catch him in his Mini Cooper with the 50 Ruger

Leave his brains hanging like Mr. Cooper, then blame it on a Crip from Hoover

On everything, but fuck all the violence

You supposed to be a good influence on kids, like a physics tutor

But ever since your name didn't end up holding as much weight, you became the biggest loser

If only you could take a time machine back to before you punched Dose

So you could see that in the distant future

You'd end up killing yourself like Bruce Willis did to the kid from Looper

Yeah, look what fucking battling did to you

Now every single camera interview, they harass and they question you

How are you a real man when you let rap lyrics get to you?

You said you believe in god?

Least you could do is respect the talent he's given you

And be proud with the powers you're gifted with cause there's thousands of kids that would die to be able to experience half of the shit we do, but you

You're just a piece of shit I met countless amounts like men like you

Take everything for granted till the universe decides to snap and get rid of you

The laws of attraction is principle, but you never had a dad that disciplined you

And tell you that as a kid, all you had was your inner you and that's what you listen to

But look what that shit done did to you

Now you smack every single dude that gets within half of an inch of you

Cause you have to disguise that trapped little bitch in you

In some type of Anderson Silva move

[Round 2: Math Hoffa]

This is battle rap, two emcees hit the stage

With no beat, they compete with rap schemes and displays

Now some bitch-ass niggas like to fake beef to get paid

But at the end of the day, he ain't mean, he just gay

And he don't mean what he say

Like when you said you retired, I guess you didn't mean that, fool

You said I was scared to come to L.A., I guess you didn't mean that, too

You said if we scrapped, then that's gon' make your team scrap, too

Well, tell me who gon' block the shot after I cream Abdul?

You a bitch, it ain't enough your battle see mad views

They respect you, but you want to be a street cat, too

Well, I was tailored in the streets, just cause I seem mad cool

You press me, you on your ass like your jeans tag Trus, dreamland, snooze

Wake up with your cheek mad bruised

Teeth cracked, getting the recap, it's that Summer Madness 3 bad news

Where your team at? You niggas want to react? Oooo, you lucky K.O.T.D. made sure we had food

Batty man, I'm 'bout to murder the Taliban

Banana clips, somebody call in the Tally man

I was eating, Diz wanted piece like the Dalai Lam'

You slip and drop that chicken Parmesan, boy, it's Ramadan

If I was hungry, I'd beat up anybody hanging with D

Especially Okwerdz, I get the feeling when he hangin' with me

That he's so racist, his favorite movie is Hangover 3

Ok', you come out of retirement I'ma put you on bed rest

Send techs in his mouth, boom, all you see is a red neck

I'm from the Apple, y'all try to give me the beats

I'll make your fucking doctor rich with no headset

Surprised you ain't dead yet

You be taking all them methamphetamines

DO me a favor, never get blasted off of heroin

Cause that'll get you outclassed and out of your element

Cause on Smack, you was the wackest that you ever been

You battled Rex, round for round, you got pound to death

Cortez put you in a box, spitting out your best

Ars, you was out of step, Aye Verb counted, yes

Now you gon' catch a bullet to your temple like Malcolm X

This gon' be a view of what a Jew would do with Hitler

I'm using Hitler cause your man think that you's a nigga

You speak in person, you be using nigga

I guess you Donald Sterling and your Krack City crew's the Clippers

I mean, why you hang with them? They bang you out in the Crip house?

This asshole is like his asshole, it got a big mouth

I bet when y’all be sparring and Dizaster start to wig out

After 40 bars, Daylyt pull his dick out

Straight disrespect, that’s how you wanted it, brother

I take it a step farther and cum in your mother

It don’t matter if I’m home, if I come with the hunger

I’m whipping dog on the road like Dumb and Dumber

Cause you don’t got bars like that

Why your uncles be slipper-skating next to cars like that?

So try not to fall asleep, you know his bars type wack

And I’ll be here next round to bring the bars right back

[Round 2: Dizaster]

You try to rap to me Jamaican like you got a Rastafari Alliance

But you a fake Jamaican, like Snoop, dog, you lyin'

Speaking of dogs, I’ma give it to his bitch, Bonnie, raw dog

Next time he calls me Abu, I’m going to invite her over for a motherfucking hot dog

Listen, pay attention, it’s like hunting season ever since they run from me

I’m like the first shooting game for Nintendo, I was on everybody’s screen

I aimed at everything that was ever considered fly above from me

And even though they dogged me in the end, this whole scene started with everybody ducking me

There’s level to this, meet the game designer

You said you've been through a lot of shit, well, you have a lot of kids

So that’s probably baby diapers

You think I’m scared of you? I’m from Lebanon, we raise survivors

Train Al-Qaeda snipers, you do drive-bys?

We do car bombs like my block's sponsored by Jagermeister, what?

I can’t believe they pay you for being such a basic rhymer

Safe to say you're 35, you haven’t blown up

So you'll never be a fucking famous major label writer

You gon' be stuck in the underground for a long time, like a Chilean miner

If they put you in a cage, you’d be an amazing fighter

He’s a big-ass giant cyclops that hits people from the blind spot like an Asian driver

I’m 'bout to get rid of this mathematician with a thousand different algorithms

Made up of the foul decisions in life that cloud his vision

But what'd knocking them out prove? That if your rounds ain’t hittin'

You’ll swing in the middle of the round and hit 'em

And show up without a second round like you did out in England

And maybe you allowed to, but not in our division

Out there they might be proud of you, but I swear to god

You show up without a round two, Math, we’re going to beat the living algebra out of you

And I ain’t even power tripping, cause rather what I would do is

Out-rhyme you and algebraically out-style you

Triangulate on all of your ground moves

See, the root of the problem is there’s nothing positive about you

So I focus on the negatives and try to subtract them out of you

Minus all of your foul moves and that’s how you

Calculate Matthew’s absolute value, yeah

We seen you against Calicoe in New York

We seen the whole crowd give up

You got booed trying to make your style adjust

Your man Cortez battled with Cal, got slumped

I seen Hanz try to get in Calicoe’s face and his ass got punked

If you take the three of y’all together and you add them up

It means half of your squad went against a Cal, got crushed

Which proves we'll always be better at Math

Cause we would never let a Cal kill us

But I know who Hoffa, Math is, got everything dog-shit backwards

His bars don’t cause no impact so he starts socking rappers

Cause if he had fire, he would go lighter

And wouldn’t have to strike 'em on the side like boxing matches

Pay attention, if he had fire, lighter, box of matches

Yeah, now I sound like all you faggots, hah

He’s a fucking nice guy, he’s not even bad, that’s what he wants you to misinterpret

He’s like Richard Sherman, he only switches when he gets behind the filming curtain

He smiles in your face, then gets on a track and quickly turns into Math, the killing version

He’s like Dexter, cause every time he gets in the lab, he becomes a different person, yeah

But I’ma tell you now Math, be cool, 'cous

I’m serious, Math be cool, Blood

You said you gon' smack me, you said Math gon' do what?

I seen you the first time, we was chilling with Triune once

You stood up in the corner like you was gon' do something

Soon as you seen him, you was like, my dude, what's up?

Fucking fruit cup

I’m trying to show you the large picture

No, like serious, Math, I’m trying to show you a large picture

No, like pay attention, I’m trying to show you a large picture!

[Round 3: Math Hoffa]

This nigga blew up a picture of me with no shirt on

That's some other shit

But I bet off of the strength of that picture, tonight, I'ma fuck a bitch

But you, you dropped Islam just so you could suck a dick

Cause ain't no repercussion for faggots up on the mothership

Now let's get real

When Pac died, the whole west side fell in depression

When B.I.G. died, the whole east side was mentally stressin'

See Pac wrote songs that led the black man to progression

B.I.G. said, “Sky's The Limit” before his death and ascension

But this is why they fear battle rap, cause of how we vent our aggression

If that aggression is genuine, this shit could end in a second

I still remember the question, is there a ghetto in heaven?

I don’t know, but after tonight, there should be a 7/11

I enter the session, calm just to censor the tension

For them stacks, I kick that shit, I’m Benjamin Beckham

You do a lot of dumb shit just to get some attention

It’s like if people think he hard, this nigga gets an erection

You a Arab-American bragging 'bout a weapons collection

I’m surprised the FBI hasn’t sent an inspection

But since you talking guns, them shots gon' be denting your chest in

Arabs love oil, he getting drenched with the Wesson

See, I came into this battle with the plans of a mover

You disappear from where you stand in the future

Reappear in the past next to a corn field and hammers’ll shoot ya

That’s how you see an end, faggot, Anderson Cooper

This suicide, Diz you know you gon' die tonight

I’m like a steering wheel in London, I be riding right

But this was probably part of your plan, an Al-Qaeda strike

What happens when a Arab’s rapping with black dynamite?

I rack, putting bodies in Glad bags

I can’t even tell my pops what I do, I might get bagged, dad

I heard Daylyt really box, and he ain’t half bad

But Math jab faster than a Dot Mob ass-grab

You been taking Daylyt’s style, give it back, fag

Trying to stay ahead of the trend? Guess you a hash-tag

You lost on the show and broke out, you was mad sad

Ain’t even say bye to your homie, that’s a back-stab

I guess your ass really needed the guap

Cause you ain’t pay back Marvwon for the meals that he copped

Cortez for the weed when you needed some pot

You ain’t even pay back Big T when you needed some socks

You bum-ass nigga, you gave me writer's block, the worst of this year

I watched your battles till your fucking voice was hurting my ears

I put the pen to the page, hoping verses appear

But this is why I hate Scrabble, sometimes I got no words for these squares

I mean, shit be all set, I got my target in sight

But the shit I’m wanting to write ain’t part of plight

Cause everybody spits the same and y’all reward 'em for bites

I’d rather narrate the Wonder Years and talk through your life

See, niggas know I spit hard, but they be caught in the hype

Vers’ Math, you get the draft, either a bar or a fight

So Diz gon' stand on the stage and try to offer advice

But I’m ten steps ahead like when you walk with your wife

I mean, Diz, let’s keep it real, how bad could I be?

You took the bargaining price, they paid me top dollar

You even paid for part of my flight

Last time we spoke, you was broke walking dog in your night

So when the fame’s gone, D, you gon' be starving for life

You got a broke nigga swag, your face says, “I browse”

All these fans and you can’t even count five thou’ right now

As far as I’m concerned, all of us should be iced out

But let’s talk about how you cried out in that Bed Stuy house

You told a room full of battle rappers that you wanted to kill yourself

Cause you 30 plus and broke and can’t find a way to build your wealth

You had the same sweats on for three days, to keep it real or help

I slept in my jeans just in case he tried to steal a belt

Wake up in the morning smelling curry chicken

Diz hanging in the basement like a dummy twitchin’

Feeling fucked with no love, that’s the buddy system

I told Muhammad treat life like it’s Sonny Liston

One of your mans got cancer, and he fighting for life

But you'd rather take yours cause you light with your price

If I was him, I’d slap your ass twice with a right

When we die, we die as men, you gon' die as a dyke

All you are is an emotional bitch

All you wanted was attention when you told us you quit

All you wanted was attention when you told us that shit

Your parents raised the blade, you should go for your wrist

And when you die as a atheist, and your ghost in the midst

And god ask, “Yo, Bachir, who told you to quit?

I gave you so many gifts, now I gotta kick his soul to the pit"

Spoiled brat, couldn’t adjust after growing up rich

Real shit, they’ll never take that from me

That’s why a nigga still smile when it ain’t that sunny

He was crying cause he broke, ain’t that funny?

Well, I give him a couple bucks, that’s that Arab money

You fuck rapper, I split you and spill your guts after

Look, Ockie, you sloppier than a nut catcher

This how Brooklyn do, every time I look at you

(I wanna put a fist, knife, bullet, or a foot in you)

No, I wanna say, “give me two loosies and a Dutchmaster!”

Hoffa

[Round 3: Dizaster]

Yo, how the fuck do you cheer for the type of shit this dude writes?

Like serious, no punchline

This dude called me rich and broke in the same fucking round

You’re the dumbest dude I’ve ever met in my life

Math, Math Hoffa, the fuck is wrong with you

With all these stupid Apu lines

And the fucking lines about Arab women?

Okay, you wanna fucking lie, you fucking racist?

I’ma hit you with a racist line that’ll leave your mind spinnin'

I will make an agreement with you, I’ll agree to cover up all my women

If you can agree to cut down on all the fried chicken

And for once in your life actually try swimming

Let me tell you some shit that y’all didn’t know

About Bonnie and Drake, when he was about to take her out on a date

Don’t roll your eyes cause you got mad at Bonnie and you started to hate

Yo, Drake was about to put Bonnie up in a fucking suite like a little ho

Why you think World Domination was booked

And we got ourselves a little dough?

And the reason why she never met with him is cause

He started to act like a little ho, and that’s why she didn’t go

And he getting mad cause I’m like Einstein

I’m exposing shit about Math that you didn’t know

You trip, I let the clip explode, you wanna act like a fricking ho

I predict the shit that you gonna say like Charlie Clips when he did the Piccolo

You try to throw a jab, I sidestep it and crack Math like the DaVinci Code

Stop looking at the fucking phone, you starting to distract me

You could play if you want to

But don’t think that I ain’t afraid to have one of the homies pull a trey eight and pop you

Bro, don’t think I’m afraid to sock you

I’m like Edward Scissorhands, I was born with the metal in my hands

But you could still catch the fade if you want to

Fuck your little fucking metaphor, little four-bar, little schemes

I came to destroy y’all regime, I catch a body like nobody has seen

And show up to your funeral and stand above your casket

And dump metal in your box like a Coinstar machine, yeah

And you just mad and all scared

Because he thinks I’m come in here touching you

Now we see you last time out here, dog

You were clearly way uncomfortable

Thought it was all Love & Hip Hop till Daylyt got on him

Did you see the way he busted you?

From far away, that shit look like Stevie J was punking you

I’m a war syndicate, I’ll torture your ass

You throw a punch and put more force into it than a Morpheus jab

There’s not a home item I won’t hit you with

I’ll snatch the plates, forks and I’ll stab you with it

Till your face warps like the Old Testament

Step on mine and you’ll get bone and a frag

Once the force of the blast will leave you with torn ligaments

Shoulders collapse, bones missing, organs attached to the floor

Like your cord's been slashed with a rotary axis from close distance

I’m so vicious, I’ll show up to your pad like Jehovah’s Witness

And force entry into your door entrance

And sulfuric acid your bone remnants till there’s no more evidence

For forensics to report to the lab

You go from shows with sold tickets to more victims

To forgiveness from the mortician to the morgue in the bag

From short visits from close friendships to identify your toe with a tag

But what good is a mortician when all of your toes missing, body cold as a slab?

His corpse shows symptoms of rigor mortis and cold stiffness

Like co-defendants in court before the witness

Let me show you the math

This is the type of hole you diggin'

I told him if he shows up trippin', I’ll be forced to hit him

Grab him by his throat and kick him

Take him to the floor and quickly force submission

Push his torso in grab his arm and Kimora twist him

Into a choke-hold position like Forrest Griffin, yeah

I’ll fucking center in a fire round the home you live in

And throw your son in the middle of it like the solar system

I’ll expose these cats and leave 'em leaving here out the door straight limpin'

I’m down to rustle in the house like Kimora Simmons, yeah

Just keep pretending it’s just jealousy and envy

It’s that next breed, they surpass him he’s a Cessna engine and they surpassed him like jet speed

He knows if he don’t do something they gon' forget him like PS3

So he needed something trendy, why you think he shut down SM3?

Everybody from the event flee and Smack lost money on spent fees

But you brought this on your own selfie

I mean, you brought this on your own self, G

You wanted to have all the muscle in the hood

You couldn’t be a normal mustang, you just wanted to be a Shelby

Cause you're selfish, fuck battling, you should enter UFC

You ain’t a real man, a real man respects his enemies

A real man uses his verbal skills and only reacts with his hands as a necessity

Cause any man can throw a jab effectively

But it takes a bigger man to know you the bigger man and to just let it be

That’s why you lost all respect from me

You could be the knockout MVP, but you’ll never be the best emcee

You went your whole life trying to be the one

But you just killing yourself over and over like Jet Li

He ain’t no motherfucking battling legend

He only has one classic battle with Serius and that ain’t no classic

He had to stab Smack in the back just to get it

You’re wack and pathetic, fuck the fans that respect it

You don’t have any ethics, you dissed Cali now you back out west

Begging the same people you dissed in the past for acceptance

Cause you’re a passive-aggressive, sensitive-ass, feminine faggot

Suffering from manic depression who’s mad

No one in battle rap wants to give his ass no attention

Even his own family rejects him, fuck, Smack don’t respect him

He only here cause he got canned, before that, we never seen his ass on the premises

So this is all I need to back up all the tracks into evidence

The only reason you’re here cause over there you don’t have any relevance

You fucking waste of life, I should punch you in your fucking face right now