[Round 1: B Magic]
I said yo
This how it’s gon’ go, n***a
You gon’ lose, and I’mma win
I ain’t got time to keep going back and forth with nobody kid
Syah look, you been a rookie for ten years man, what the fuck?
You lost, 80 times on 106, you fuckin’ suck
Check me out
‘Cause I rap greater, fresh as a Bernie Mac taper
When I grip the K, I flip ‘em hey, catch him? Triple H back-breaker
Calico all in your chest, bitch I’ll Pat Stay ya'
Magic got ya bae goin’ dumb, n***a I’ll Mac Dre her
Mag sprayer, keep a bottle wit’ me, like I had a genie
Saw your bitch earlier n***a, and she was glad to see me
It’s the same Magic the one n***a that used to have the beanie
And the hood got my back like a Lamborghini
First round, these bars gon’ fuck wit’ ya' head a little
Second round, you will die, I’ll give ya' head a missile
Third round will be your funeral n***a, I’m fed up wit’ ya
And that’s a 3-0 like Kerry Kittles
You fuckin’ punk, I should smack you from afar
While you talking, and then you see the collapsing of ya' jaw
I ain’t got nothing but a fo'-five and a new MAC but it’s a start
Play from House Party: I keep a couple ratchets in the car
It’s B Magic, I’m the king, versus...John John homie
This n***a literally get battles sayin’, “John John know me”
See you a temp, I’m with the union like Bron-Bron homie
You want yo’ K I got yo’ K like a pom-pom on me
Don’t act hard, n***a you wear contacts, that’s gay cuz
No real n***as around you to tell you that was what gay was
Spray slugs, it’s B Magic you bitch, I’m showin’ no love
Talkin’ how you got your bankroll fresh with no plug
Look, you get a four to your lady’s shit
Tape handy, think of the Banks family: I’ll raise a Smith
I ain’t gon’ give you my life n***a, come take the shit
Run across your mouth with the Chucks n***a, my Taylors swift
Time
[Round 1: Syah]
Aight, bet
My prediction: Magic takin’ this shit three-zip, every round is a given
This n***a style is forbidden, fo’ pound and it hit him
BAOW! BAOW! BAOW! Push his crown through the ceiling
And do my recap: Woo! That n***a Magic took all three rounds in the building!
Chicken scratch: I be wild with the writtens
Steel hit your grill, whole smile'll be missin’
If ARP said you look fine, that n***a Shallow Hal with the vision
Take it or leave it
Be quiet, it's better than speakin’
Catch one from the .357, your head’ll never be even
I’m on one, shotgun to his back'll push his spinal
Pull ya' chest out like J.R. when he won the Finals
It’s war time, all my n***as ready for combat
You ever see John hand cock, it ain’t a contract
New strap, and this go silly
Extended clip, hang low like O’fficial titties, bruh
Long-ass chopper leave your hood rattled
Bullets hit your chest, have you losin’ your breath, like Brizz in the Suge battle
I aim for the back of your head, and let the .40 buck
So if you live, the rest of ya' life you’ll have the Ginóbili cut
For snitchin’, now you in the hospital, stitchin’ for months
Bad, word-for-word like Melanie Trump
Man, fuck St. Louis, I got MAC-11s, ARs, shotties, eights and nines
Bitch I’ll put your whole town to sleep like Wayward Pines!
I’m back wildin’
Catch a headshot, from the MAC-90s
These TECs'll sit Magic down: n***a I’m Pat Riley
Magic I know you used to provin’ you iller
Black Subaru from the villa, I cruise through with the killas
These rounds put you to sleep like you two-on-two-ing with Chilla
Let’s talk about it
How you get beat up by Fox?
[B Magic]
I didn’t

[Syah]
You didn’t?
You ‘sposed to get that n***a frame peeled
I heard he had you in a Melvin headlock like, “Lil' Jody, lil' Jody, stay still!”
But you be beatin’ up your girlfriend though, see that’s the shit I can’t feel
But it makes sense: Magic fuck up tricks because he ain’t real
How you get beat up by Fox!?
I heard that n***a lit you up like a lightbulb
You went to work the next day, your co-workers thought you was on Fight Klub
How you get beat up-
Nah, I’m bullshitting
Syah, round one

[Round 2: B Magic]
Syah listen…
The iron spittin’ if Syah bitches
N***a yo’ big homie is one of my prior victims
What I hold? Two-two-threes: I’m Scottie Pippen
What’s in the holster? I go Minnesota, I got the Wiggins
Who baby cannons? This n***a get left, Mariah trippin’
Bring Syah horror, I mean it’s sayonara when I slide the clip in
Your left side’ll end up by the curb, hear tires squealin’
Then your right end up on the wall like hieroglyphics
People’s champ, the greatest of all times
I got a chrome nina n***a, it’s the greatest of all nines
I’m a king, and I did it from a lot of this hard grind
And I started to blow up quick as a car bomb, get off mine
Man I bet these two hands jam
Got a .40 and a snub-nose, what it do fam-fam?
And the .40 follow the nose like Toucan Sam
When it kick, box a n***a thinkin’ you Van Damme
That’s Double Impact on impact, that’s sleep-sleep y’all
I hope he know, this send the MACs’ll make him gon’ see stars
Who charged your battery? Boy I hope you gon’ see bars
‘Cause when you see this dot, I hope you know you gon’ reach God
What you don’t like that? I don’t care n***a, I’m battlin’ Syahboy
Give him nine
Pull up wit’ the subs quicker than Jimmy John’s
N***as tryna block my shine, I see it’s many blinds
Pull up to your door wit’ a couple, you’d think it’s senior prom
Scratch that
Find out where you relax at, and clap that
Ja Rule: you ain’t even effective when you clap back
I’ll make sure you sleep in a bag, that’s a knapsack
I’ll bag a rapper for them chips, that’s a Rap Snack
Look, who taught you n***as how to battle rap?
I don’t just act out bars, I really battle cats
And you get the message off top like Snapple facts
And I’m back in the trap like- Jersey
[Round 2: Syah]
I said, “It’s B mothafuckin’ Magic, the show arrived
But I been chokin’ every battle, I apologize
See I wanna rob a bank and just monetize
But last time I was fronted some Money Bagz, it was a homicide”
I accept it, I can kill the best n***a in battle rap, y'all will tell me I ain't hot still
My stock never gon' rise, but this Glock will
And if your bitch walk in front of you, move her, when that shottie blastin'
Hit you, and reshape her stomach, when I body Magic
Hospital bed, your mind'll look like you polygraphin'
The Tommy, start goin' crazy, you'd think Holly naggin'
If you happen to live my n***a, and you partly dead
This ring'll have you break up wit' life, like Karlie Redd
You dirty muthafucka, I can look at your clothes and just see why
You dress like, Denzel in The Book of Eli
No bitches, Quasi-no-hoes, but you pop the steel
Ironic, a n***a named Magic can't even cop a feel
Syah, I'm not the n***a you wanna war wrong wit'
Choppers out, lookin' for him all day like a Pornhub clip
Bars, we ain't the same
I'll lift the chopper and make it rain
Magic, body floatin' through the air like Criss Angel and David Blaine
Headshot, knock his memory out, it ain't a game
Without a iCloud backup, he ain't gettin' his data saved
Wait, reverse that
Save the data, aim the banger, I get him wrapped up
Headshot cloud his memory, paramedics'll get his back up
Y'all got him set to get devoured, I'll wet him by the hour
.50 jerkin', like the last episode of Power
Man fuck Magic, gimme a chopper, and I'll hop in a hockey mask
Show up to the funeral like "Abracadabra" and split the box in half
You got bars though Magic

[B Magic]
'Preciate it

[Syah]
You just be chokin' too much, we can't feel it fam
We be like...
(*Syah gets a look of excitement and anticipation on his face*)
...and then you choke
You be fuckin' up the snap more than Instagram
I'll run up on you and your kids and let the .50 blam
BOW! Kids'll see Magic everywhere like it's Disneyland, muthafucka
Syah

[Round 3: B Magic]
Syah...look...I done had enough of this bullshit
Weak n***as thinkin' they bars hot
A n***a that live for a "Don Demarco" horn drop
Have you ever been on SMACK, my n***a? Besides Proving Grounds?
Well whatever you tried to prove to them then, try to prove it now
I got a long fif', n***a, the homeboy had to cock the bitch while I hold it still
I had to put my back against the wall just to blow the steel
You know the deal, ain't no play wit' you damn it
So if you wish a n***a would, I'mma take it for granted
You do the math, n***a, you better read between the lines
It's in the car, you see how I put the Reed between the lines?
Heard seven or eight shots, you don't wanna see me wit' the .9
Nothin' but punchlines, you don't wanna see me in my prime
Bars, n***a, I go for heat
You as pussy as ovaries
Cross me, I'll leave you neckless, it'll go from beef to rosary
You fuck around and get your head iced, ain't no controllin' me
When the four sing from the Desert like Jodeci
N***as gonna notice me, the homie got the heavy stock in
Lots of guns, but the only one I took, I get to fetty whoppin'
Your bitch'll fly through the air like Mary Poppins
And I'm Gucci on a feature like 'Steady Mobbin''
Syah gangsta? Save that for them other suckas
Yo' hometown got waterfalls like a muthafucka
You'll get a buck-fifty, I'll uppercut ya'
Two arms swingin' on each side, I'll double-dutch ya'
Never trust ya', I brought a couple of minimum-wage n***as
Hungry for money, so buckin' the FN I'm gettin' 'em paid n***a
You thinkin' I'm comin' to play wit' ya'?
I hope that you brought you a K wit' ya
The room shake, give everybody in the room eight, this gon' stay wit' ya'
I told 'em once, this muthafucka scared
I'm from the muthafuckin' Lou, that's how a muthafucka play it
Beat me? Can you believe what this muthafucka said?
You must've slipped, fell, and bumped yo' muthafuckin' head

[Round 3: Syah]
So I read a Top 10 battle rap list, right? And my name was nowhere in it
Big Sean voice: "Whoa there, n***a," 'cause we's about to go there, n***a
I seen your video Magic, said you gon' retire from battle rap
I clapped, like "That shit's commendable"
Then you said you gon' retire to make music
That was the dumbest shit in the interview
But no hate, go hard Magic, I think it's gon' rain success
Nah, I'm bullshittin', I think you gon' have Rain success
You took this battle short-notice, I hope you ain't waive your prep
I wave the TEC, click, BOW, send you up to Wav' and Prep
You lookin' at me like "He no like"
Lead clap, his head crack like cee-lo dice
They said you was gon' choke Magic, a lot of n***as is hatin' 'cause they mad
Two battles this week? You gotta be straight up in your bag
But you remind me of Money Mitch, when his son got kidnapped, it was sad
'Cause he died, right before he made it to the Ave
Beef? I'm all for one, ready when the war come
I walk around wit' two .40s, like I'm a doja on a store run
Headshot, you better duck from this one real gun
Pops'll crack head, that's Yung Ill son
Y'all rely on Magic
Now I gotta ride on Magic
Wit' three shooters on the roof, I got the chopper, we gon' slide on Magic
Horace Grant style: that's least 'bout four eyes on Magic
I ain't fuckin' wit' you cats
I'm bustin' out the strap
Make Magic, do magic, and pull somethin' out his hat
Magic, hang on the every word
Got choppers in everywhere
Tre in his face, spit, Chris Mullin to Larry Bird
And you just lost to Brixx and Bagz: are you heated?
Then you came up short wit' Iron: are you anemic?
Then you say "Fuck Syahboy, I don't believe it"
Over your flag, catch five across the chest: Pledge of Allegiance
Syah, put that fuckin' money up
What's that? That's that old Syah, that flow fire
That dig deep: that coal miner
That inf' beam, I'll strobe-light ya
Be frank I'm gore, I'll cap a n***a: the old Niners
As usual, you New York n***as don't give me my fuckin' props
But in Atlanta, I'm the Flintstones' car, I run the block
Syah