[Verse 1: Bishop Brigante]
It's fuckin' losers like you that make me do what I do
Make me hate where I'm from, you as fake as they come
Everybody got guns, who the fuck gonna squeeze
Everybody got songs, but you ain't fucking with these
Why you wish to be ghetto, tell me what's it about
While you're tryna get in we're all tryna get out
Why don't you just be yourself, why don't you tell us the truth
Like how you only load guns when you up in the booth
You ain't nothin' to shoot, you don't even exist
You're just a fantasy family as weak as it gets
And you ain't speakin' to Bish, cause I don't listen to chicks
I don't argue with broads, cause I'm really a pimp
But I will tell you this, as far as y'all are concerned
Pull out my Santa Claus, and make the holidays burn
You can call me the Grinch, cause y'all are nothing but Who's
Just another bunch of low life's with nothing to do

[Verse 2: Ken Masters]
Now let the kids play like the rider's ride
We spendin' all day, these n***as idolize
They claim they want fame n***a so we decided
That we gon' make 'em some stars until the drama dies
But they can go back to they holes where they mama lies
Or write more lies about they drugs, guns or homicide
Funny, claim the thug life that they abidin' by
But run up on 'em, then they turn into the silent type, they wanna compromise
My n***as, we ride or die
And roll with them bitches that got they body right
These n***as ain't built, ain't got the body type
Time to break a n***a's spirit like the Amistad, tryna fool the audience
Feel the ambience
Stars in your presence, kings of the city are appalled by the peasants
Ain't gotta say names, we can all get a reference
Brains and the info from your broads in the west end
Masters, flowing staggers on bars
N***a stay mad cause his swagger's on Mars
Y'all n***as ain't thinking we calling y'all 'tards
Claim you want war, okay, on guard
[Verse 3: Young Tony]
Ayo, hey you Mr. Rapper Guy
When you in the booth, tell me why you have to lie
Come on, spit the truth, all I hear is bang bang, hustle this, hustle that
But if you hustle crack, then where the money at?
No proof, Dr. Seuss, story tellin' when he rhyme, like
Once upon a time I was really on the grind
There's another lie, couldn't out-hustle me
Hatin' when it come to D, I can take you're starting 5
I'm only goin' at generic rap n***as that
Rap about ki's but couldn't show me 10 G's
And these n***a' dry snitching on they tees
Standing out, like a sore thumb to the D's
My n***a please, if you really had work
You would do what you do and wouldn't put it on your shirt
It makes my heart hurt when dumb n***as act hood
You ain't no hustla, just a n***a that can rap good

[Verse 4: Jonny Roxx]
See there's a height requirement, n***a to mention my name (smarten up)
How the fuck you little n***as didn't stay in your lane
Man you offered me a truce and I took it
Now I hear this bullshit so how the fuck am I to overlook it?
If this little n***a survive then it gotta be God
How the fuck are you a hustla with your factory job ?
And I don't get it, n***a I'm a fucking diabetic
And I don't usually eat y'all sweet n***as
Every time I see y'all retard n***as y'all bitch out
Waddup Roxx? now we cool? then you dip out
Talkin' all that bang bang shit, pull a clip out
Sayin' you a blood, next week you prolly crip out
I'm saying, we don't believe y'all n***as (nah)
G-35, x5 nah n***as (yeah)
This here is a public announcement for my n***as (yeah)
No more goodnight, good mornin', goodbye n***as
[Verse 5: JD Era]
I don't appreciate n***as sayin' my name in they bullshit
It's like putting a knife against the lyrical full-clip
Do shit on my own, I never asked for help
If I was rapping like y'all I woulda killed myself
And nah, this ain't beef, it's missing a few ingredients
Dog you ain't a general, stick to being obedient
Piggy back, that ain't something I had to do
Laughing at Drake? you should'a seen how I was laughing at you
I don't beef over little shit, angry? A little bit
Little n***as get little recognition you little bitch
I don't do the little subliminals, I'm addressin' it
And if Littles wanna get in the middle then I'm suggesting it
They called you a bitch, were tryna act out
They challenge 'em to a fight and then they back out
So tell me how the fuck I can respect you cats
If you a gangsta, then what part of the game is that?

[Verse 6: Drake]
Hey yo Aristo, I'm lost, can you tell me whats goin' on in the streets?
How it feel to count dough while you palmin' the heat?
And yes I asked for a 16, you did your 16
I heard that weak shit and only wanted the beat (it's true)
But fuck the money and the cars that I drive to set
And fuck the women that's lying to all the guys they met
And fuck the features on my songs and the deals on the table
Or basically it's fuck everything that you strive to get
And it's the room of resolution, I'm finishing it in here
If I copy Budden's flow, you mimickin' his career
And the same money we hearin' you giving to charity
You need to be giving to Littles to give him some clarity (what up Littles)
'Cause that's your homeboy I think he's owed that much
Tell him pressing 25 don't mean you sold that much
And Breana, I don't mean to alarm ya
But you need to get outside the car to shoot this video in Parma (Tony!)
You act like you hood and hood n***as'll harm ya
And this is not hatin' my n***a we call it karma
But yo Thug Life, show me where the hammer be
Yes I took an L on my own and they didn't damage me
You try to cover up your lies like a canopy
And tryna pull 17 year olds down in Bramalea (I know about it)
And we don't got it out for you
We just saying that don't nobody vouch for you
Nope, nobody thorough is willing to give a cosign (nobody)
And you don't even sell blow, you just blow time
You can't even get a factor grant
So stop rapping, go fix parts at a tractor plant (damn)
And listen here, Tetley Tea
You one of the seven dwarfs standing next to me
You probably snitchin' in court, then accept the plea
And I hear you paying these women and I sex for free (what up sweetheart)
But dog, how did this start, how we get to this part?
We all got n***as doing bids "Mr. Wishheart" (what up Cam)
It's not cool to use another n***a's as a threat tho'
I said you a bitch, I heard a seven man echo
You saying I hustle, my source for currency coke
They saying you never moving it and currently broke
And you risk doing crack time and hang around black crime
Just so you can have something to say in you rap lines
They say Drake killed it like young girls at a private school (I did)
Dog if I were you, I tell you what I would do
I would cut ties with the cops and just make them fire you
Lose the body pack and the velcro you feed the wire through
Tell them not to call and that's even if they require you
'Cause they the only people recording that wanna hire you (it's true)
With what I spend in a weekend I could acquire you
Some of them believe you got money you little liar you
But, I don't admire you, short n***as tell tall tales
Good riddance Aristo I just retired you!