Nobody likes me
Nobody likes me, but that's okay
'Cause I don't like ya'll anyway
Man, I don't like ya'll anyway
Fuck all ya'll

I let my watch talk for me, my whip talk for me
My gat talk for me, grrraahh, what up homie?
Them n***as who don't know me, they wanna blow me
'Cause the shit I floss with be saying a lot for me

I came in the rap humble, I don't give a fuck now
I'll serve anybody like n***as who hustle uptown
Coke prices go up, capsules come down
The D's run in they crib, they nowhere to be found
N***as who hustle for heat, nah they don't even stash tracks
They keep 'em on 'em, right there in they ass crack
When I don't like bitches, nah gator don't pretend to
I'll have the paramedics wrap your fucking head like a Hindu

Look, I ain't going nowhere, so get used to me
OGs look at me and see I'm what they used to be
I know n***as that sold coke, the n***as that sold dope
Same n***as that shot dice, went broke then sold soap
Them thugs that pop shit, them thugs that pop clips
Them thugs that went from three and a half to a whole brick
Bitches ain't in they right mind going against me
My pictures painted through words, I make a blind bitch see
Scream, "Murda," I don't believe you
"Murda," fuck around and leave you
"Murda," I don't believe you
"Murda, murda," your life's on the line

Ya'll bitches don't want no parts of me
You tryna figure out how they started me
You gon' make me catch you on a late night
Pop shots with the fifth, then slide off in the six

I'm not a marksman while spark, that n***a spray random
I don't fuck with pretty boys, but his moms think he handsome
I hate to hear that 'he say, she say' shit
Unless she say he said he on my clit
It's no coincidence bitches who fuck with me getting shot up
Straight Cali style, drive by and tear your whole block up
You know you soft bitch, putting up a crazy front
Stay with the MAC ' cause them n***as tried to blaze 'em up
I'm in New York like, "Damn, Gator really spit it on 'em"
"You heard that shit?" "Yeah, Lola really shitted on 'em"
Beef, you don't want none, so don't start none
You're just a small player in the game, play your part, son

Scream, "Murda," I don't believe you
"Murda," fuck around and leave you
"Murda," I don't believe you
"Murda, murda," your life's on the line
These cats always escape reality when they rhyme
That's why they write about bricks and only dealt with dimes
Leave it to them, and they say they got a fast car