Dizaster vs. Math Hoffa (BOLA 5)

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 tryin to see?

Cuz I don’t give a fuck, either one of ‘em 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 stealin

My hooks like piracy, but I agree, battle rappers shouldn’t act violently

It ain’t a nice look

But this is hip hop, so you could blow up with the right hook

I’m back y’all, haters form a line on my sack

So you could say you stood with me when you heard I got blackballed

My chances of getting a match were slim as a scratch off

But thanks to these wack/soft amateur jackoffs

And top tier niggas that slacked off

Now my phones 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 piller, 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

Ya flow’s easy to track

If Eminem held a class on how Arabs can rap iller

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

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

Lookin in my phone? I ain’t ever do that nigga

But I was watching 24 with ya battle with Pat

Cuz you choked but to save the day you ran to that Jack nigga

You was on the stage lookin all suspenseful

Comin off ya tempo, but you lost ya temple

What happened to that freestyle that we thought was special?

You looked in ya phone to read 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

The 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 down this road, I see the future

No, I’m lying, I needed Uber

You Jesus in L.A.? That’s cool cuz I rebuke the scripture

They booked the Matthew for Driveby a crew should fix ya/crucifixion

If you don’t throw a strike than 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 ya organs is gonna lose a pitcher

Stupid I’m talking about ya 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/rain? It’s time he met Noah

You delusional, this ya 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

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

Dizaster

You better not do something stupid

Cuz 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 Cadillac

Now we out in the west, he coastin’

It’s Math Hoffa; accepts 2 battles in one week’s span

So the other one gets less promotion

It’s true, in a week he’s gonna 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 like Edward Snoden

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 buzzards and slap 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 “Blacka!” HA! HA-HAH!

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 til 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, back with another classic

He done fucked up another fuckin classic with one of his sucker tactics

But today it’s like a court date we all get to judge who math is

(Judge Mathis)

He went a whole round with Jones and no one reacted

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

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

That’s why you never get no respect, what happened?

Why you wanna punk dudes like little Mookie and T-Rex?

What happened last time you came to LA? Where was ya 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 LA

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

Ya battle with Daylyt’s the only time you’ve ever slept someone on stage

Shit if he’s an NY thug, I’m a Star Wars militia trooper

If he got his pistol I’m set trippin in a missile cruiser

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

“Click, click” you end up missing from the clip, like a hidden blooper

Ain’t shit that you can do to convince me that this kids a shooter

I’ll have the homie catch him slipping in his mini couper with the 50 ruger

Leave his brains hanging like Mr. Cooper

Than blame it on a Crip from Hoover

But fuck all the violence

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

But ever since your name didn’t end up holding enough 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

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

Cuz it’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 til the universe

Decides to snap and get rid of you

The laws of attraction is principle

But you never had a dad to discipline 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

Cuz you have to disguise that tract little bitch in you

With some type of...[unclear]

Round 2

Math Hoffa

This is battle rap! Two emcees hit a 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 LA, I guess you didn’t mean that too

You said if we scrapped then that’s gon make ya team scrap too

Well tell me who’s gon block the shot after I cream/Kareem Abdul?

You a bitch! It ain’t enough ya battle see mad views

They respect you, but you wanna be a street cat too

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

You press me, you on ya ass like ya jeans tag Tru’s

Dreamland, snooze… wake up with ya cheek mad bruised

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

Where ya team at? You niggas wanna react? Ooooo!

You lucky KOTD 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 a dolly lamb

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 ya fuckin doctor rich with no headset

Surprise you ain’t dead yet, you be taking all them methamphetamines

Do me a favor, never get blasted off of heroin

Cuz that’ll get you outclassed and out ya element

Cuz 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, spittin out ya best

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

Now you gon catch a bullet in ya temple like Malcolm X

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

I’m using Hitler cuz your man (German) think that you’s (Jews) a nigga

You speak in person you be using ‘nigga’

I guess you Donald Sterling and ya Krack City crew’s the Clippers

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 sparrin’ and Dizaster start to wig out

After 40 bars (B.A.R.R.S.) Daylyt pull his dick out

Straight disrespect that’s how you wanted it brother

I take it a step farther/father and cum in ya mother

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

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

Cuz you don’t got bars like that

Why ya 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 them bars right back

Dizaster

You try to rap to me Jamaican like you got a Rastifar Rah Alliance

But you a fake Jamaican, like Snoop, Dogg you lying (Lion)

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

Next time he calls me Abu

I’m gonna invite her over for a “motherfuckin 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 been thru 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

Trained Al-Qaeda snipers, you do Drive-bys?

We do car bombs like my blocks sponsored by Jagermeister

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

Safe to say you 35 you haven’t blown up

So you never be a fuckin famous major label writer

You gon be stuck in the underground for a long time like a Chile minor

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 blindspot like an Asian driver

I’m bout to get rid of this Mathematician

With a thousand different alga rhythms

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

But what a knock in the mouth prove? That if ya 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 2

Math we’re gonna beat the living Algebra out of you

And I ain’t even power trippin cuz rather what I would do is

Out rhyme you and algebraically outstound you

Triangulate on all of ya 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 ya foul moves and that’s how you

Calculate Matthew’s absolute value

We seen you against Calicoe against New York

We seen the whole crowd give up

You got booed trying to make yo style adjust

You made Cortez battle with Cal, got slumped

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

If you take the 3 of y’all together and you add them up

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

Which proves will always be better at Math

Cuz we will never let a Cal kill us (Calculus)

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

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

Cuz if he had fire he would go lighter

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

Pay attention if he had fire lighter box of matches

Yeah I know, now I sound like all you faggots, ha

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

Cuz every time he gets in the lab he becomes a different person

But I’ma tell you now Math, be cool Cuz

I’m serious, Math be cool Blood

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

I seen you the first time, we was chillin with...[unclear]...once

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

Soon as you seen him you was like “my dude whats up?” Fuckin fruit cup

I’m trying to show you the large pitcher

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

Cuz ain’t no repercussion for faggots up on the mother ship

Now let’s get real, when Pac died, the whole west side fell in depression

When BIG died, the whole east side was mentally stressing

See Pac wrote songs that led the black man to progression

BIG said “Sky’s The Limit” before his death and ascension

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

If that aggression is genuine this shit can 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 sensor 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 ya chest in

Arabs love oil, he getting drenched in 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 (CNN) 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 ya plan, an Al-Qaeda strike

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

Iraq/I rack, putting bodies in Glad bags

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

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 ya homie, that’s a backstab

I guess yo ass really needed the guap

Cuz 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 writers block, the worst of this year

I watched ya battles til ya fuckin voice was hurting my ears

I put the pen to the page hoping verses appear

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

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

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

But 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 10 steps ahead like when you walk with ya 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 ya night

So when the fame’s gon D (Ghandi) you gon be starving for life

You got a broke nigga swag, ya face says “I browse (eyebrows)”

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

Cuz you 30+ and broke and can’t find a way to build your wealth

You had the same sweats on for 3 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 Listen

One of ya mans got cancer and he’s fighting for life

But you’d rather take yours cuz you light with ya price

If I was him I’d slap yo 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 us that shit

Ya parents raised the blade you should go for your wrist

And when you die is it Atheist? And ya ghost in the midst

And god ask, “yo Bashir 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 cuz he broke, ain’t that funny?

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

You fuck rapper, I split you then spill ya 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… “gimme two loosies and a Dutchmaster!”

Hoffa…

Dizaster

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 fuckin lie and be racist

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

I will make an agreement with you, I’ll agree to cover up all of 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 ya eyes cuz you got mad at Bonnie and you started to hate

Yo Drake was about to put Bonnie up in a fuckin suite like a little hoe

Why you think World Domination was booked

And we got ourselves a little dough

And the reason why she never met with him is cuz

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

And he getting mad cuz 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 frickin hoe

I predict the shit that you gonna say

Like Charlie Clips when he did the Piccolo

You try to throw a jab, I side step it and crack Math like the DaVinci code

Stop looking at the fuckin 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 8 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 ya little fuckin metaphor, little 4 bar little schemes

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

And show up to your funeral and stand above the casket

And dump metal in your box like a Coinstar machine

Yeahhhhhhh!

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 til Daylyt got on him

Did you see the way he busted you?

From far away that shit look like Stevie J was punkin you

I’m a war syndicate I’ll torture ya 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

Til 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 cords been slashed with a rotary axis from close distance

I’m so vicious I’ll show up to ya pad like Jehov’s Witness

And force entry into ya door entrance

And Sulfuric acid ya bone reminisce til 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 ya toes missin, body cold as a slab

His corpse shows symptoms of rigamortis and cold stiffness

Like co defendants in court defending for the witness

Let me show you the Math

This is the type of hole you diggin

I told em if he shows up trippin I’ll be forced to hit em

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 chokehold position like Forrest Griffin

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

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

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

I’m down to rustle/Russell in the house like Kimora Simmons

Just keep pretending it’s just jealousy and envy

It’s that next breed, they surpass him he’s...[unclear]...injured 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

Cuz your 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

Cuz 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 MC

You made your whole life trying to be the one

But you just killin yourself over and over like Jet-Li

He ain’t no motherfuckin 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

Beggin the same people you dissed in the past for acceptance

Cuz 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 cuz 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 cuz over there you don’t have any relevance

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