5k on the soundcloud page
2 million on the soundcloud plays
These rappers be rappin how soundcloud pays
I don’t get shit outta y’all
Why alla these pussies wan get me involved
With drama that I do not care bout at all
It’s all for clout these rappers wan brawl
They talkin’ bout me, all on my balls
They all on my meat, I’ll say first off
Rip Shanikai, rip Kama
I honestly wish you would play with they honor
Cuz if you wan talk on my dead yxuragxner

How come your homies talkin' bout “they smokin a pack”
“we caught a body today”
Lil homie I promise you ain’t had your hand on a gat
Unless it’s your fathers, okay

I’m sick off the beef
Stop with the disses, pull up where they sleep
How you gon' diss when you ain’t in the street
How comе you using opportunities
To beef and start losin; opportunities
To grow as an artist, y’all be rеtarded
I swear y’all move different it couldn’t be me
Becoming a target, you be regarded
As the grown rapper who beefin' with teens
How you gon’ use someone dying to beef witta rapper who don’t know yo first name
Bruh I promise you got nun to do with the shit that you talkin' about, doin it fer’ fame
Doing all that while callin' em fake
Y’all move for stacks
Y’all move for plays
I move for packs
A place to stay
You moves so rats
With apish brains

Gon’ fuck wichu more
How come y’all stay intellectually poor
I been countin my dollars while fuckin yo whore
Bitch I’m 5k deep imma need 5 more
And you ain't ready forrrr what I got in store
I cruise the porsche the roof divorced
Yo bitch want me more, she think I’m adorbs
Remove the jorts
I splooge then dora explorin’ the city I look like a tourist

I’m done with the reachers
How come producers who work witta artist thats bigger than me think they get free features
I do not work for the free if you ain’t tryna pay me go watch me blow up from the bleachers
Bitch I’m a mo’fuckin tyrant I dropped outta school cuzza music said fuck all my teachers
I wonder if they know I stay witta heater like fuck
Man I wonder if my old friends know I’m the shit?
Got a song witta mil, and a mil on my wrist
Okay, that’s exaggerating but I’m killin the spits
They be feelin' my shit, eat a beat like some grits
He already bought the feat but imma need me the splits too
Seein the green while she eating my ween ooh
She is yo B, screamin when I proceed to
Beat up on her c.a.t. make her knees move

Side to side
I’m that fine lady
With the fire rhymes
Ride or die
All the homies 10 toes deep
Ain't no sign of my
Oppas tryna fight
So we drivin' by
Middle of the night
No you cannot sleep
Bitch
Ignited by
Hella choppas now the homie flyin' high
They tryna hide
Lookin for the opp is my 9 to 5
Cyanid
All that I spit cuz I’m tryna die
If he in my area tryna fade then I’m slidin by
But!
I don’t slide without a glick
He know this shit kick back
Finna knock him out his fit
That boy cannot spin back
He can’t even use a whip
Cuz I blew his shin back
All because he wanna stick to his word
That I’d sit with the birds up in heaven
But this stick made him learn that he better
Fix his lips I observe
Hope it sit and it burn
He ain’t nothin but a bitch witta perm
Tryna get up in the mix he get served
Like a cake

All my homies finna try out
Been a goat since 1st grade
Y’all still in the try outs
All these rappers need to open twitter just to sign out
Cuz more you fuck around wit me bitch the more you gon find out
Pull up to yo block, make it pop
Then I slide out
Really you get rock by the Glock
Make you lie down
Rappers be my sons, i’m yo pops
You in time out
So you better stop with the shots
Homie pipe down