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mc majesty - matty b diss (trying to make it in a business that isn't yours) lyrics
(intro)
man, i at first felt proud for you, a kid making it rich
but you went too far with the king cr-p you rapped about
i need to put an end to this at the moment
how can i accept this?
sure a random boy is here, but… just listen
the crowd should start applauding
by the time you start recording
they leave and i win because they know yours’s is boring
instead the first girlfriend
you meant b-o-y
you got the words mixed up and i think i know you why
you didn’t want to seem bad to the crowd you perform and flow
you can’t make it to the award show
because i’m in full war mode
the closest to god you made is with your god awful covers and songs
that’s why in this beef, i’m going to love it all
you called yourself a king
when in reality, you’re just a selfish being
trying to make it in a business that isn’t yours
you should have been a carpenter like your father and try to fix floors
you should the put the mic down before mad
it’s in my former name, i dare you to resp-wn before i react
coming from the 6th borough city
i sell rhymes in new york city, a rhyme for $4.50
you only went for this for the men involved
you want to fall in love and do things a boy your age shouldn’t know of
let’s take this to coliseum
i pay for tickets, on the house, just because i want to see him
the scrawny little boy, who’s older than me just by a month
let’s take this outside, not in the back, but in the front
i sick of that voice
that belongs to an even younger boy
i should shut it for you, so you won’t make any noise
you were forced to use the money from your own dad
i sn-tch your book of rhymes, stop reading from a notepad
you need to call the police officers and the ambulance
you still lie in bed, wondering, “do i stand a chance?”
let me save your breath
you have nothing, stay in second, i stay the best
even if i lose one battle in our beef
i win the war, because i make more battles, always standing on my feet
of course you have more subscribes
that’s why i decrease, by breaking your design
and your poor mind, breaking you from your rhymes
save it for another beef, for another time
and that’s if people actually don’t want to diss
i have guts, i aim my lyrics like rockets, at my target, your apartment
aimed at the whole state of georgia
down to florida
all the way west into california
you went from matty b to tragedy
you done f’ed up to go against the king, majesty
our names rhyming is the only thing in common
i take your career rocket and veer it into a comet
making the loudest of seen or heard explosives
that’s why you should multiply my power by the exponents
yours is divided like segregation
against my presentation
i take sn-tch your cash and use you as a representation
how i make people drive people into insanity
you little f… let me get no profanity
i’m too much of a gentlemen to fight little girls
wearing high heels, go back to painting your nails
the whole hospital is going to have to take care of you
they place st-tches on you, have the whole crowd stare at you
you belong on the streets
i bet you prolonged a beef
no one had the guts to do i did until this week
if you just so happen to see me in the big apple
you better run, don’t look back unless you want to battle
and get your b-tt kicked
you don’t want to punch him
or else you will get thrown on the street for touching him
the master, the author
i’m blasting all horror
toward matty b in the beauty parlor
i’m a bat out of h-ll
my name will soon ring bells
i’m the one who cracked the liberty bell
with a small tap
with my mic, to say you’re a king is bull cr-p
i descend from my throne
to enter your home
enter your dome
i cast spells and as i said before
you better respond, before i get mad
react
your bring lumberjacks with a rubber axe
i bring a mic strung high on my back
the closest to the top you’ve been
is not by hip-hopin’
it’s with your ugly looks, while i mix hip toppings
i remain leader, and this is me just being honest
while you all are just remakes of miss poppins
little nannies
running home to your grannies
with your grammies
while y’all are spitting and p-ssing in your pampers
i lost myself, let’s go back to you, little kid in the back corner
you had the chance to avoid this, but you didn’t want to
now, i’m not saying i’m a king
but i’m close and you’re nowhere near, because you flat out stink
speaking of flat out, your voice is as flat as cement i throw you face in
flat as a pancake, flat out is your face on the pavement
you dress indecent
matty b, you are just rewritten
of other rappers, so don’t compare to me while i be spitting
so while i’m still breathing, just listen
you need to run away from home, i’m on a life or death mission
because i’m just about to lose my breath
but i would rather die, than call you the best
you remain last
even if i play last
stop trying to be good at rapping, just stay bad
there’s no point in beating a dead horse
so i’ll just step off and let you go until the next chorus
(………………………………)
ha-ha, you actually believed i would stop
i only came at you because i was sick of beefing with cops
i wanted to work with pete rock
and perfect my beat box
and seeking my hip hop
and beefing with such low life ballerinas
so, are you an enough to come back at me
but remember, you continue
there’s no holding the majesty……
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