[Intro]
Yeah
Madseicc 'til I mothafuckin' die!
Let me get a little Strange
Thing is, thin kids, you know, that's what it's for, you know what I mean?
Every time I hear some shit, n***as sound more and more like me
Makes me wanna quit this shit
But uh, I'ma do it like this

[Verse 1: Brotha Lynch Hung]
Try to find me, it's like I'm Chinese
Somewhere in China, they minor, them n***as die easy
Them n***as whiners, I'll make 'em red as the 49ers
Leave 'em dead, cut off the head, n***a, I'm a potent rymer
I'm a pokish rifle, give 'em an eyeful, I'm a sniper
Nobody like her, she cocks back, snaps like a viper
I'm into makin' n***as quit the game, split ya brain, hit ya gang
N***as don't know what happened, look at the picture frame
I'm 5150 mixed with cocaine, ptomaine poisoning
Put your boys in it, after you get ate, they get the same
I'm insane, something's stuck in my membrane, it's them thangs
Told me tuck 'em and then change clothes, change shoes
Range rove, your brain froze, they lose, they know
I could rip a n***a to smithereens
I snake when I slither in then I'ma get my bitch to get the keys
Ain't that a bitch, that n***a sounds like a Mini-Me, I'm tellin' you
[Chorus]
Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors
I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta

[Verse 2: C-Lim]
Is it true n***a? You wanna feud?
Yeah, this is about you, n***a
It's a truce, but if I spit what I knew
Your career could go poof, n***a
You clearly disrespected the homies
What you said is baloney
The truth is that you’re respected by none, protected by homies
And you a bitch, you a bitch and you a bitch
And I don’t give a fuck who it is, I ain’t new to this
When I see you I'ma take flight like stewardess
Tried to do a diss, you got a lot of nerve
Acting like you put in a lot of work, I did a lot of dirt
They’ll find you murked with your head missing and your body burnt
'Cause a lot of words that you say are mines
I don't ask much, just say I'll ride
They say I’m fake, they say I died
But everything that they say are lies
And you plagiarized Brotha Lynch Hung
N***as know where you get your shit from
That ain’t a biz, homie, we was the shit, homie
Then you flipped on us like a flip phone
Did a diss song, n***a, this Madesicc
Every n***a in the click bang Crip
And the one’s that don’t is Strange
Fuck rapping, we could arrange shit
Fuck that, we could rearrange cribs
When I bust straps you see the flame lit
Stuff crackin and the paint lifting
I'm tryna come back, could read my name in it
[Chorus]
Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors
I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta

[Verse 3: Tall Cann G]
Yeah n***a, this a Madesicc, we got ‘em all sick
Fall back quick, we'll just take it to the basic
You’re gonna get left faceless
Got a gangsta in your face
I get up close and personal, stick you at random
I’ll pick 'em, can’t be choosy, unload the Uzi
Put the whole banana clip up in your booty
Speaking on The Made, n***a, you is a real bitch
On some cocky shit
I got the hockey mask on
Chases through the woods, n***a
Let you have it in the hood, n***a
Anywhere I’m good, n***a
Off the dome, I’m on your dome
Deer hunter, skin him and gut him
Concrete or jungle, or the wilderness
21st Street Garden n***as some animals
Eating you up alive, jumping in the frying pan
I'll still fry your guts like Sizzlean
Then take my medication, ain’t no hesitation
I been on the grizzind, pushing the lizzine
N***a don’t even cross mines
[Chorus]
Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors
I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta

[Verse 4: COS]
Shit, I’m Madesicc, sick in the head, spit with the lead
‘Til a n***a blood stick to the bed, zip what they said
They be talking too much, they never shut up
'Til the people out there chalking 'em up
Cleaning their blood up, n***a what up
I nut up, I'll leave a n***a cut up
I'll hit a n***a crib up or hit a n***a cut up
I'll stick a n***a slut up, I'll make her spit her blood up
Them n***as call me cupid, I'll split a n***a love up
Put murder on a loop, I hit the loot then throw the cup up
Them n***as sweet as fruit, that talking cute gon’ get you fucked up
I’m nothing like you, dude, I’m not a perv, I don’t just flash it
I pull it out and blast it 'til they’re closing the casket
I'll bloody up the mattress, you shouldn’t play with matches
That shit'll get you burned up, I'll burn your face up like some acid
Tie you up in this sack zip, you n***as make me that sick
Like I need extra pills and extra bottles just to hack it
Or I might use the hatchet, get blood all on my jacket
Then hop up in the getaway and swing it like a racket
Them voices in my head just keep screaming, it’s some racket
And they gon’ drive me crazy, double crazy, maniac-ish

[Chorus]
Yeah, I heard that song before, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
I'ma eat 'em up like shrimp, lobsters, impostors
I heard that song before, I swear, I heard it somewhere
No other rappers rap like The Four, is he an impostor?
I just want you n***as to know, you got a thin roster
Shoot 'em up and leave their mothafuckin' heads in pasta