Ms. Fit vs. O’fficial lyrics

[Round 1: O'fficial]
I said, I called this b*tch out six years ago and now she wanna settle it?
When I'm from New Orleans, but when I drew wit' the bird it ain't the Pelicans
Y'all seen me start from the bottom, then move on up
Just like the Jeffersons
And Smack seen my hunger and gave me a plate, I ordered Mexican
But wait! I know y'all like, "She not even Mexican." But that don't mean I can't deal wit' her
I know she Puerto Rican, well that just mean she's a lil' n*gga
Now I'm at ya door like immigration
I watch Fit in [?] searchin', she ain't think was gon' shoot
'Til she see that thing surface
Micky D's, I'm at the window, Big MAC, wit' mean service
She didn't expect to see ice
Scream (cream), then I showed her the machine's workin'
f*ck the dummy talk, watch ya mouth or get hands, I'm a ventriloquist
I walk around wit' my nose in (and) air like a siddity b*tch
Stick in the back of ya head, you won't forget the sh*t
I'll find out where you stay Fit, and get a membership
Yo' trigger finger never on delay (andale)?
Well my team always on go, vamanos
I tell my Harlem n*ggas, "Get at her."
Code word is "dadado"
Now they gotta tell this b*tch "bye" (bi); adios
Gay b*tch, well I'll leave this fruit flat; plátanos
So why y'all gave me this b*tch?
Ms. Fit, I'm not the one you won't dismiss (diss Ms)
I'll give Ms. this
Big clip, the b*tch ratchet barkin' over time like a slick b*tch
Big clip, and I gotta hold it up like I got a slipped disc
After that little exercise wit' Phara, I knew n*ggas would come and doubt me
'Til they see me on Impact, wit' dumb bars, gunnin' loadly
Thought I was gonna lose, wait (weight), I dropped 30
They came back runnin' proudly
They ain't think I was in shape to get Fit, until they seen that Summer body
Yeah she had a Buzz, but a [?] is whatchu will see
I don't believe her Toy Story, until her toy's choose to speak
I'll play the villain like Sid', I'll have the steel all through ya teeth
I'll give Ms. the (Mr) Potato, head
Shocked she'll lose a piece
So wait, I can't beat up the whole Murda Ave
sh*t, unless I got like 30 hands (Hanz)
But when my n*ggas come wit' the Calicoe swingin'
Ain't no tellin' where Murda Land
The last clique try me, died
I bet the next won't
Get ya set poked
So when the 12 pop up on Ave, it ain't a checkpoint
And this b*tch tried to put, "Jaz can't jump in the battle" in the contract
With only two weeks before
But when Phara had rules she ain't like that
b*tch tried to throw me off my game, only made it a lot worse
Try harder
[Jaz The Rapper]
I said Ayo!

{Crowd goes crazy}

[O'fficial]
Nah, they had planned on Jaz helpin' me get Fit, well I guess that ain't work out (workout) partner
You tried to orchestrate my sound, you really thought it was a brass section
b*tch you not in tuned enough, to be teachin' Jaz(z) lessons
You outdated, sayin' you will beat us both is outrageous
She tried her best to play Jaz(z) and ended up wit' Miles Davis
Y'all said y'all seen the kid ride?
Well was it a Big Wheel? Well leave a big will
She tried to add her all (Adderal) 'til she seen how I sit steel
Now sit still
Manly b*tch like plastic, huh?
Well this di*k real
And even tho' I'ma stay Fit for a king
She won't enjoy this big mil' (meal)
b*tch I'll knock you right here
Have everybody on Born scared of me
Bill Cosby, I'll make a b*tch lie and f*ck up the whole Legacy
Flatline n*gga

{Somebody passes out in the crowd}
[Round 1: Ms. Fit]
First time on URL
And it might be my last in fact
Cause I might not keep it rap
And let the ratchets clap back to back
Like, "f*ck the chit chat"
Listen that, be that
We scrap
I'll rip the contract
And CashApp Smack back the racks
I don't give a f*ck 'bout that
I got a lose screw, I shoot two
The deuce deuce let a few loose I'ma true goon
Jaz is talkin' hot, thinkin' you cute?
b*tch who you?
O'fficial don't live in Brooklyn b*tch, you do!
But f*ck that, I'll squeeze the beam
And to even things, so poppin' sh*t I'll drop a clip; deleted scenes
That's ya boo? Cool, peep the scheme
You get killed at Jaz feet
I get a b*tch from the Boot cut
And you could die (dye) on the kicks like bleedin' jeans
You can get shot, on the spot, for just a stare, it'll be tragic
I'll beat her like Tina, f*ck you, should get ya ass whipped
I'm basically askin' you how do you want it? Angela Valdes or Angela Bassett?
So yeah get like me
I'll off ya likely
That gun work? Let it j*rk, you was talkin' spicy
Pull over (pullover) wit' the TEC (tech), nothin' on me Nike
I want everything, even ya dawgs (dogs) too, divorcin' wifey
I often might be, type to hold the heat let it fly
You stink, it makes sense, b*tches reek when they die
Aye, this the last time y'all gon' see her alive
I hit her wit' the {slashing sounds}; y'all would think I was teachin' Lamaze
I see it in yo' eyes, you shook b*tch
I mean I'm a big look, you just look big
Ya face is ungodly and that waist shaped oddly
And ya belt screamin' for help like, "Please untie me!"
I mean, you got the boobs but you need; better bras
I mean, better bars
Wit' better oohs and better aahs
I got the better odds, I school you
Pull up wit' a semi and an (N) AR, aimed at the pupil, now I'm givin' seminars
That gutta sh*t, I've been up on
I OD, and since O sleep, I hit her wit' 16 from the pound
Give O Z's (Oz's), hoe please
I done sold seats, you can't see me on the stage, ya nose bleeds
You gon' need prayers off both knees
Rosaries, I alter the thing then back out the lane, that's cold feet
I hold heat
b*tch, you thought Katrina was a b*tch?
Ha, FEMA was a gift compared to this Nina that I grip
You 'bout to be wit' Selina in a bit
Career crash and burn, err, Aaliyah on the trip
You get hit wit' a hot one, Madea wit' the grits
See I'm wit' the 6, I had a Brujería in this b*tch
Santería on it quick
I be talkin' right to the GOATS
You the Greatest Of All Time? Well it's 'bout time I sacrifice me a goat
I get murder first if I get my hand on her first
sh*t, before Twork I had my hand in her purse
So f*ck you, f*ck Jaz and every fan of ya work
Everybody will get the TEC's (text) like Amber Alerts
b*tch, you just a f*ckin' worker and ya boss is my mans
So everything they help you write, they told me in advance
So they coach you? Cool, I got a lesson for those
I drew up a game plan, now I'm X'ing the O
Extensions dialed for operators when I'm pressin' you O
So tell DNA and Shine, I got rounds in the shelf
And tell T-Top he need a tummy tuck if I take a pound off my belt
You hear a Big T gun sound, should be out for herself
She gon' leave the X behind like, "I found someone else."
So chill wit' all that "flatline"
Cause I leave you flat on ya backside
Somewhere on The Flats by the backside
b*tch I know you front, cause you never had a backside
Yo, it's Murda Ave Gang I never switched sides
It's Murda Ave 'til I die
[Round 2: O'fficial]
I say all that bumping sh*t you be talkin', stop
Cause we already heard it
Cause b*tch you work at T-Mobile
Tell me why my phone ain't workin'

Why is it not workin'?

Well the chopper got an extension
Now that b*tch won't stop spittin' for certain
It's funny, you the one who work at T-Mobile, but I'm the one givin' out unlimited service
b*tch I will show up at T-Mobile while you workin' and wild
Like I came lookin' for contact
Baow
Now that text (TEC) gotta search in the cloud
I punch lines after lines
Y'all really think she can 30 all of mines?
With. Every. f*ckin'. Bar. I'm hittin', why y'all think Jaz on bourbon all the time?
I'm on ave, f*cked up, the cops caught me swervin' out the line
YMW Melly, I got bars 'cause I had 'Murder (Murda) On My Mind'
You been supposed to get smoked when I first started slayin' chicks
But this battle you ain't wanna take you c*cky hoe
It's funny I was doin' all that callin' out but you played sick
Well at least you don't have to fake this doctor's note
Let me find out Brooklyn the new Harlem
Let me find out this heifer snitchin'
I'll teach her 'Gram a (grandma) lesson since they like to correct they mistakes for a better sentence
You said ya b*tch a model? Well that don't mean I won't let the gauge rock her mind
Tekashi, I got the Shotti for protection but still chose to drop a dime
I don't even need the beam, you can get shot from the nickel
Cause how the f*ck I'ma miss (Ms.) Fit when that name already got a dot in the middle
But when I call on my n*ggas I don't even gotta raise a hand
I give the K my shells (Michelle) but this can' 'Raise A Man'
But if I raise the bar, dash, she in (Bardashin) trouble, we come and shoot
But you don't have the heart (Hart) to face a third round in front of you
I'll let it loose
Summer Impact, but this .40 doesn't lose
So if I give you the big .4, Fit (forfeit), it's nothin' new
I had n*ggas followin' Hart, now I shoot for the stars and smile proudly
I even had n*ggas lookin' for bars (B.A.R.R.S.), until they found out it was a dry county
Y'all seen 'em choke, dyin'
On the stage with two GOATS; shining
She hit Cortez like, "I need help. This hoe violent."
Yeah, she seen the way E/40 (E-40) got whipped so I expected the ghost riding (writing)
You lil' bitty b*tch, you can't even be the man of ya house
Well I'll make you swallow the clip, deep throat, gargle the b*tch, after I let my mans in the house
The di*k spittin', she caught it all when he bust with his lil' mans in her mouth
Well they did say Cortez write for you
So this ain't the first time we heard something hard come from a man in ya mouth
And they said ya b*tch a hoe
Get in her pus*y you might fall
Yeah you made her sheets rock (sheetrock) but you can't build with them dry walls
My god
You and ya b*tch be bumpin' pussies, ew!
But to ya baby you the champ?
Dawg (dog) outta noodles cause she can't even lay D in the tramp (Lady & The Tramp)
So I use the hairpin when I snipe with killers
Cause the trigger sensitive like light skin n*ggas
I'll pistol whip her 'til she's swole', now she's prayin' the gal's scary
How I made her eye knot a kill her (I not a killer) but, don't push me
Now she's sayin' the "Hail Marys"
You really feelin' Super bold (Bowl), goin' against the Saint anger
I tried to challenge her (challenger) but the rules differ, I can't blame her
We was this close to the ring, but now we on SMACK, you in grave danger
Y'all should've known when I got Ms. (miss) call
Y'all should've knew O'fficial (official) would f*ck sh*t up, now this is the game changer
Flatline

[Round 2: Ms. Fit]
Yo Jaz you died already. Get outta here...

Ayo, I heard you f*ck wit' Phara
You tryin' to avenge that b*tch death?
I mean, how does she still speak?
Is there any of that b*tch left?
What? You talkin' to ghosts now?
That's what Power will do to you
Y'all think sh*t is dead until a Tommy pop up at the Funeral
Well I heard you do voodoo too
Cool, let's play
Cause if you virgin toured the hocus pocus sister this can' do (candle); flame
I tore ya (torture) top, listing this crème brûlée
These sticks will sit ya n*ggas down f*ck a damn 2K
So team up wit' Lucky, I bet y'all bail
I grip the pistol and dump then flip the nickel for Luck'; I wish him well
Man, everybody know you f*cked; kiss and tell
The only time I serve fish ('Ffic) is scale
They asked me how I prepared for fish ('Ffic)...rip it's scales
See this b*tch is frail and I know O tell
If she dies, she dies, I'm like, "Fine. O(h) well."
I came from New York to Ohio to prove O fell
So play games and watch it's gon' cost you O'Dell
I mean, oh well, how should I describe this?
Female battle rap was dead until I came and revived it
I mean, nothin' was thriving
Battle after battle, none of ya b*tches poppin'
'Til I hopped in behind it, revised it, realigned it
Now y'all comin' outta retirement?
b*tch this is my sh*t, you need to pay homage
b*tch! You got 20 battles plus
Including Dizaster and Lady Luck and nobody gave a f*ck
The sh*t you did within a year, I did within a month
You really should give it up
I battled Hustle, you battled Hustle, but I ain't lose b*tch
You battled Dizaster, that n*gga damn near wrote the blueprint
And he couldn't get you a mil'? b*tch you useless
Look at ya views? Eww
How do y'all approve this?
Meanwhile I'm catchin' M's off SMACK, b*tch I'm Frank Lucas
That Blue Magic, that dope sh*t, I smoke sh*t
I make this b*tch go back to the pad, she homesick
b*tches got open mouths 'til I close it with a closed fist
I'm gay, but the only thing comin' out the closet is a whole clip
Know this
I'll run up in ya home quick
Address (a dress) her in the crib, hang it up or I fold sh*t
Nose grip, like when Serius Jones spit
Call 9-1-1, all you hear is the phone click
You tryin' to be a star in N.O. like Zion?
'Til she jump, I sneak her (sneaker) and get her soul (sole) ripped
But I got a bone to pick
b*tch, they call you 'Ffic (fish)?
That's the last thing I wanna think of when referring to a b*tch
Then I take a whiff...it kinda makes sense
But when they think of Fit, they think of a lotta drip
Designer kicks
Takin' all kinda trips
Under the Long John Silver I ain't buyin' it
And if sh*t don't pan out, I do it grease, I'm fryin' fish ('Ffic)
So listen I ain't teasin' wit' her
Get me out my character like a feed on Twitter?
Na ah, I ain't goin' out like that b*tch, I need a sitter
I put a stick to the b*tch like a clingy n*gga
I'm chalkin' lead from the steel
I'll stomp her out or sparks fly
Either way I'm goin' head over heels
I said b*tch, I said you should chill
You should know your loses
You can't afford no loses
You got two choices
You either grip the Wesson or get hit with the Cal' boy (cowboy), b*tch hold ya horses
I make artists awkward, your career 'bout to sink, I ain't tryin' to force it (faucet)
I'll put you in a suit and tie, good for a coffin
I got a .9, .5, turn a hood b*tch corporate
Aye, I mean you b*tches is basic
It's always Cortez, Spanish jokes, gay flips, it's always the same sh*t
But if I say a black joke, y'all call me racist
So keep it Civil, Right? Or you gonna ask for reparations
And since O pressed (oppressed), I'll back of the bus(t), that's discrimination

Murda Ave Gang n*gga we in the building

[Round 3: O'fficial]
I said, you don't want to have an encounter sis'
Cause I'll leave marks on money
I'm takin' counterfeit out
One-two; counter Fit
Slide you across the counter Fit
They like, "How many fingers am I holdin' up?"
You can't even count 'em Fit
I mean, ya b*tch can't even get ya pregnant
Why she chose Fit to be her lover?
It's crazy, you talk about sonnin' b*tches, when you not even fit to be a mother
But you talk about Phara child
When you can't even have a seed to share ya smile?
So all that gun sh*t you talk, that sh*t don't scare me now
Cause how the f*ck you gon' bare arms when you can't even bare a child?
But I told my n*ggas, "Bring her head back
Make sure you dismember her lid."
They carried the baby .9....months...then they delivered the kid
But you talk about Phara moms?
Well my men is too society (Menace II Society), they would've finished 'em
You would've left with a cane (Caine)
Since you like to play with the dead, you could've visit them
My n*gga would've snuffed yo' ass so hard...phew! You would feel it there
Like, "Whatchu say about my mama?"
Then watch O-Dog hit a chin
Get the tapes, and you said you wish her son get touched by grown men
You really gay
And you a pedophile
Coming up with bars about little boys gettin' raped
Alright "Ms-9", I mean "Tech-Fit"
I'ma let you pick the date
Like, "Where you wanna have your funeral?"
I'ma let you pick the day
Like, "Where you wanna spread ya ashes?"
I'ma let you pick the lake
She ain't know it was destiny until I helped her pick her fate
Your dad, probably face f*cked you, over tacos
Came on the chips, and made you eat it like nachos
That's why she went from gachos and thot clothes to rock clothes that's not yo's
Everybody wanna be a n*gga until it's time to be one, so I'ma pop yo's
I got big guns, that b*tch shootin', it'll really have this freak missin'
Now she gettin' a pound on the low; she sneak di*kin'
I said, yeah ya use your man too, that's why I hear 'Tez a little in ya style
Like Earth, I guess it's in her (inner) core (Cor') in the middle of ya round
But you feelin' your little crown?
Cause 'Tez pennin' ya sh*t now?
How you gonna bring penmanship around usin' the pen men ship around?
b*tch, before NWX, I was runnin' with the crowd
Had n*ggas at the Top, fallin', and even took a couple n*ggas down
While you was retired for five years
I was in that boxin' gym takin' plenty wins
Battle rap was dyin' in a sense, you was on the bench
I was goin' against the greatest with the pens
Now on views, I'm prolly 'bout to lose a couple to one of them
And Ms. Fit my n*gga, I hate it had to be him
But b*tch you wasn't wit' me shootin' in the gym!
I said she got me Hot, Boy, trying to be G (B.G.)
My man he (Manni) Fresh out of jail, he did her sleazy
I said, hit your Juvenile up, he left him greasy
Then after I gave this b*tch the Bird, Man
{deep breathing}
She left wheezy (Weezy)
I got a grudge with these fits, I will never let the past slide
I just rocked this b*tch Vin Diesel style, with a Fast 5
Everybody in the crowd, know it's 'bout that time
This b*tch career is an underscore; flatline

[Round 3: Ms. Fit]
I said you not official
It's blatant
I'm sayin'
Me and you got no relation
Cause there's a big difference between wealth and Polo association
I mean, I'm Versace, b*tch you K-Swiss
Smack you can't rock Gucci outfits to go with Asics
So how you gon' out Fit, b*tch?
You don't even know the basics
So get this sh*t mistaken
Everything Ms. takin'
If you feel some type of way, I'm like, "O, what's shakin'?"
Chrome is blazin', bones is breakin'
I mean, I go viral when I spray the lead, b*tch I'm so contagious
This sh*t gon' lead to closed caskets; open cases
Y'all talkin, "O pen dangerous"?
Yeah she a snitch n*gga, O pen (open) statements
I mean you Wal-Mart, K-Mart
Your whole drip trash
I'm [?], Chanel b*tch, I'm in a different bag
I'm talkin', fly kicks, five stars
Sippin' on fine wine at five stars
Against a 5X, wide/large, $5 dress from Primark
Everyday laundry day; ya life's washed
I mean my god, I bet ya life's hard
The rent's late; no heat, the light's off
So how are you official? Tell me please
What's official about Nuborn slide in ya cheeks?
And if you say you ain't f*ck Nuborn, b*tch lyin'
I know a couple top tiers she f*ck, now she think she big time
Man, I know more rappers been out of her mouth than 69
O'fficial you not official to me
How you go on Verbal Warzone, rappin' on beats
Put on a mic set and let it snatch yo' weave?
That's not official to me
I mean I'm stylin' my G
She ain't wildin' with heat
She Carmelo Anthony, you can practice all you want, you still outta the league
Yo son, I'm done with this amateur
How y'all think Jessica wit' the TEC's and she gon' hit me up?
Get my chest loaded wit' damages
Man please
She Eddie Murphy, her set Delirious
You don't be wildin' out (Wild 'N Out), you a joke, I think Jess Hilarious
You must be high sippin'
Line sniffin' to think you got a godly image
DNA said, "Get money and drink water"...he ain't say, "Put the Molly in it."
So f*ck it, nah f*ck that sh*t, I stay wit' a holster
See I can sit here and roast her
But with the toaster? I'm hardly a jokester
I stay grippin' .40's, I'm hardly ever sober
Waxin' this pus*y, like my shorty comin' over
Yo, you ain't no stand up b*tch, fall in line
I'm callin' guys to make sure you die, we can't coincide
The Heckler get like a jealous b*tch; blowin' mine
Plus I got an ill Eagle, that's illegal
Don't cross that boarder line
You fat f*ck
Let her tell it, she big boned
But f*ck it, I brought the big chrome in
For your kinfolk in
Bullets hit sis' from way back like I been O friend
After that you kinda f*cked, I let the tip go in
I had this b*tch duckin' a stick, look like she limboing
So act out, I spazz
MAC out I blast
Everybody knew I put this pus*y in a box
Guess the cat's out the bag
You know how I know this b*tch ain't it?
Cause after she spit her round that n*gga just fainted
So Jaz, chill wit' all that sh*t
Cause I let the MAC spray
That b*tch been duckin' me so long she got back sprains and back pains
Murda Ave Gang

I get a clip then early b*tch; Mack Maine
I'm- psst, yo I'm nice
Murda Ave Gang