LEAVE IT TO BEAVER - Intellectual

[Verse One: splitzthreesixty]

Yo, fuckin' bitch, beater, and I'm talkin' bout Chris Beavers

I'm inside a six-seater, creepin' around with big heaters

Send that boy up six meters, chopper got a big peter

Pour up, this my fifth liter, soda doesn't get sweeter

I would say I'm knee deep inside your bitch, but she a creature

Bitch don't make me call Steven, you can't get saved by no teacher

You can put your hands up on a man, but you can't speak clearer

Black chop, got a black top, and a green wiener

I'm in the nosebleed, lil' bitch, I feel like Chris

Bitch, you obviously don't know me, you bought me Tris

Hey, pal, your best bud gave me information

I put the beaver in the wood and puff it till I'm Asian

Go ahead and push up in that jetta, I'm patiently waiting

And pretty soon your bitch gon' realize that you overstaying

Infinitely more successful, must not know the nation

I just found out you're hourly, hope you lose motivation

I just moved out my momma house, you still see momma faces

This cracker called my boy a nigga, he's also a racist

You speak on Splitz and you see Splitz with not-so-friendly faces

I know some demons you hide deep, let's let them out the cages

Make you remember all the kids when I stomp you in ASICS

Lil' Steven got some shit to say, let's show his ass the basics

Man, I'll knock your teeth in the back of your throat

Not a note, it'll be a fuckin' homicide, they wrote

Cutthroat, when I end you, you won't have the time to glow

You act like you got that money, but you still fuck ugly hoes

Real hustlers don't show off their money, they don't Snapchat it

Fuckin' talkin' bout some tax brackets, watch your back, faggot

Backtrackin', smack beavers till his fuckin' back crackin'

Nose leakin', just for speakin' like he really rack stackin

You're a really sad maggot, not even your own friends jackin' you

And your dumb bitch too, she can kiss my boots

Pattered with the blood of this fuckin' dude

Who claim to be makin' money like a Jew

Just be-fucking-cause he's scared of ridicule

I hope you hear it

Thought we were cool, but the air, I need to clear it

I fuckin' hate you

Grab the mini-chop grab someone to replace you

I know you finna run, I got the stick, I ain't gon' chase you

You're fake, dude, grab the wooden pencil and erase you

If I let you hit the pen, be sure I'm finna lace you