back for another one bitch, let's do it, ha,
City nigga, fuck y 'all, yo,
I start this rhyme with how
y 'all feeling this bitch, I'm fit in a spit,
got steel in my grip, but I ain't talking
Then try to act like they
Now if we talkin' about ones,
I'll be talkin' in tongues,
And all them niggas you brung,
Sleep, son, I put that on each one
Be cool until the heat, cunt,
these pussies might eat some
Nigga, this is not pop music
Unless you're tryin' to pop shots to it
How could you hear this joy
You're stupid, you need to shop in
Cupid to get love for this music
Diamond in the rough, like
Find me in the cut, if not,
probably find me in the slut
Dutch, that means my plans
a lot of back talking, backing it up
I like weeding my hands I like my
but y 'all don't understand
Me no lie, fake niggas that
Me no lie, y 'all killers pop
I like weeding my hands I like my
but y 'all don't understand
Me no lie, fake niggas that
Me no lie, and y 'all killers pop
Back in the zone, no backbone
He stepped on and spat on,
If I don't get your map right,
I ain't tryna get clapped on
for making these rap songs
can't walk with the hood thing
To know that I've been swindled,
bamboozled, and hoodwinked
These rappers ain't like me,
the heat that there might be
Force ones in a white tee
Six foot four, uncooked raw,
I'm that nigga to look for,
on paper like a bookstore
Ain't never been shook poor
Candyman and then hooked off
Still ain't nothin' smooth, yo
First learn to put the weed inside the
Drink it dope mothafucka, yo peoples and kinfolk I been dope,
anything less is an insult
Goddamn, now I like being a man,
bitch I don't understand, me no lie
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right,
And y 'all killers pop shit and can't fight
bitch I don't understand, me no lie
Fake niggas that ain't got the game right,
And y 'all killers pop shit and can't fight
So obnoxious that I'm toxic,
Spit that hot shit cause I'm
hot bitch and got butterfingers
Got women just like a vehicle, topless
Look first you'll see when I'm work
Pulling paper straight out
the woodwork until I push dirt
Shit I hate to fuck up a good shirt
But dammit I'm back, I done relapsed
Shot a dose of some murder I
I'm part ghost, part caparissa in debt
Jizz are master killer and chef
all that killin' some complex niggas
Have yet to blow up, they noth
York, y 'all, shoot and shake me,
I'm hot, dawg, y 'all ain't
I find excuses to finally lose it,
VH1, you know, behind the music
but y 'all don't understand
Me no lie, fake niggas that
Me no lie, y 'all killers pop
but y 'all don't understand
Me no lie, fake niggas that