[Intro]

Yessir, What's good

Look, I feel like every great rapper has one of these man

No hooks, just bars

Let me catch my breath right quick, Let's go!

[Verse]

What it do, was twenty-two up in my the room

Thinkin' bout a way that I could make a move, make a boom

Debated to move to L.A. to make it in movies

But traded the pool shade and gravitated to music

Now I'm spittin' the hottest shit, it don't matter the competition

Is sadder than a bladder that be lackin a pot to piss in

It's actually kinda sicknin', the rap is beyond horrific

Admit it bruh, Waka Flocka Flame is somehow respected?

The game has gotta change, used to listen to Jay

Up on the train, now they floodin' the waves with 2 Chainz

I feel like I separate with my lines like 2 lanes

It's a dark knight when the joker's better than them banes

Of the rap game, all of 'em rap lame

They claimin' all em ballin', well then all of em Sac Kings

At least they in the league tho,I can't even cop a fuckin peacoat

That's why I'm aiming outside the box, like it's a free throw

The weed smoke fuckin the air up

Got this muthafucka snackin more than Miggy Cabrera

Got this mafucka rappin some crack and yappin about it on his cell phone

Tell holmes this is the track, that I got ma swell on

And I spit that shit so fast sometimes I need to slow it down

All these bitches up in the crib, it's like ma home a pound

Tell me I ain't hold it down

Spittin ridiculous, ticklin' bitches

Up into they britches, and rip em like tickets

And fastballs, lookin' at a cutie on the dance flo'

I visualize that booty wit the pants off

Had a little dance off, and I ain't had no shot it was the ass fault

Cuz shawty body arguably hotter than August asphault

They claimin' they great, man these rappers straight lebronin'

I'm layin' in wait, to smack the fuck up out dat spauldin'

I'm hatin' every song, they celebratin' poppin' Dom

But I be takin' shots a brandy like a kobe at the prom pic

Bomb shit, ya'll should see ma muthafuckin' blonde bitch

The bombs on dat body shawty just gotta be Islamic

I twist and I turn her on 'til she wet like she a faucet

No rapper give you more a set...isn't it ironic?

Because I'm seein' these labels

Pumpin' out the horseshit, got me callin' 'em stables

Pumpin' out the tours quick, but they ain't makin' hits

Ain't nobody great as this

White boy killin' brothers on that Cain and Abel tip

Tri-tip steak, up on a plate, I'm on a date

Wit a dime bitch, nibbling cake

But nevermind that, Someone tell me where the fuck the rhymes at

I was bumpin' Nas in his prime and you gonna sign that?

Oh well, guess I'm better than they'll ever be

I could do it serious but they prefer the levity

I ain't really hearin' nothin'

Say I ain't the man

I'm layin' in sand, zero spf for the tan

But now I'm back in this muthafucka, spit hotter than a flamethrowa

Waitin' to hear em call on ma name like rap a game show

Tell me this is lame, though I know that is bogus

Gotta focus, be the dopest, with the most set of quotes, and the grossest

When I flow sick, and the hope is

Notice is right around the corner, my time to shine

Is almost aligned, something like a quarter to nine

If I could have a quarter for the metaphors in my rhymes

I'd only have a couple dollas so I'm stickin' wit dimes (ya know)

They getting off like a train stop

I'm lookin' at ma dick like how the fuck do you stay rock

No Southern Carolina, how you got so much game cock

Cuz you movin' that vagina in the dark like a stage prop

It's all good, I'm making this the outro

I had to fuckin' spit, this is what I'm about bro

And you know what it is, holla back up at the kid Slim Boner

So damn hard, this shit is over