[Intro]

I want to start this shit off straight tellin' all three of y’all, stop playing with my name. Stop playing with my fucking name, you understand me? When y'all see my name, put some respect on it. Put some respect on my name. I knew a few places we was at, I could've pulled up but I don’t think that was gangster. I wanted to come look you in ya face like a man and tell you how I feel

Yo

[Verse 1]

Goddamn I was independent, but fuckers aren't with it

Goddamn, I was in a bad mood, bapped with the rap shit

Weed in possession spent the west in Packy

Bitchin' from Lansing run around, them bitches still in advance

Shoutout my homies, the Zoom Crew

Fuck with a dealer, you fuck with a killer

My homie got shot 'cause he runnin' the block with the wrong dude

No line to make an appeal like Tayche, tryna be something you ain't

Rap about money but shit, you ain't funny

What happened to you as a kid? What happened to you as a teen?

What happened to you and the team? What happened to you being better than me?

What happened to you selling tickets? I'm sick of you lying to me

Sick of you crying to me

You should suck a dick you fucking bitch, well you good on your knees

[Interlude]

I don’t know, yeah, yeah

[Verse 2]

Oh no, now let me get lyrical

I’m publicly eviscerating your variables

"'Pollo, what the fuck you rapping for? Man you were terrible"

Shit I’m so flattered, I could probably be split at the half

But still be at work in person, fuck your 9 to 5

Your music's hysterical, yo

You probably won't even respond, but shit

If you do, I saved you time

I live in the palms, you live in the house

And really and honest, you don't even count

You really don’t live in the trenches, talking to Twitter you live in the trenches

Talking that bullshit again, I'm gon' have to tell you to get out my mansions

Fuck it man, this ain't no beef, never go beef with a soldier

You ain't a soldier, rap about shit that I seen

Summer sixteen, you wasn't rapping, that shit gon' be over

What's goody?

[Interlude]

Yo, and honestly, I really respect Tayche for sayin' my name in that fuckin' song

And for Billy, you're a fucking pussy

Yo, let's get it

[Verse 3]

Billy, you're really tryna fuck with the man

That really the man of this shit

Man of the city, your homies ain't with ya

They're with me, you gotta be kidding me, dog

Gotta be shitting me, guess you done fucked up your history

Went up for 45 minutes and no one was fuckin' with y'all

Real shit, left 'cause of you, nobody fucking with you

Homeboy even told you to get off the stage

I think you're like 20 or something

Why you fucking women that three years below you in age?

And this nothing personal, take shit to home, and don't take this shit personal

Let's not talk about business when I'm in this

Y'all want my homies that came us, we cookin' up something

You talk about spitting, well fuck it, let's get it

Be you a hundred, I see y'all is nothing

Really stop fucking around

Fucking my bitch but she can't even drive

All you did was stick your dick in her mouth

Oh shit, that shit was a lie

[Outro]

Yo, cut that shit, I'm gonna show you that I am the greatest

Bring all of your weapons when you step in my apartment

I don't think your pussy's no, what the fuck you just started

Now I think you're mentally retarded

You can talk that bullshit and you tell how you don't fuck with me as an artist

But that's a shame if you say that

'Cause I got real connects in the game, I hope you feel that

I saw Boz last night, he dapped me up and said, "Fuck it"

Now he was never with it, I get it, but I ain't frontin'

Tayche was never bussin', bussin' I'm loud

Gats argue was just stuntin', you really ain't 'bout that

All that sittin' in the back with Mac make you sound wack

Especially how the hook say, I really really really don't want beef

Tyler, you really really really ain't on beat

You want beef, fuck a record, let us ketchup

I'll meet you at the corner you claim that you bought an X from

My worst record out will end up being the best one

Quit acting like you a peasant when you reppin' the 'burbs

You flauntin' the 40 on that you find on the curb but shit, Billy

Your shit sound silly when I pop on your diss

We listen, we stoppin' on God, reminisce

What you know about sleepin' on the floor?

What you know about nights when you slept with no heat

No electric, no cover, no sheets motherfucker?