[Round 1: Conceited]
Why would anybody think he blue flagging
Knowing that this kid's a fraud?
There's not a n***a in here
That think your lines real, like a fishing rod
If it's beef I'll bring the sticks, like a shish kebab
Why would anyone think he really Crippin' for?
If he threw up Neighborhood in that neighborhood that Nipsey's on, like Forest Gump he'll start running
And he won't be Crip no more
And for that one reason
I'll never believe that you pop up chrome
‘Cause we all saw when it comes down to the proof
That you leave your shotgun home
N***a, you got some nerve
Making these people think you put in a lot of work
And let that llama squirt, well, I'll show you
That I don't need a boogie board for me to body Surf
This n***a name is Rayjon Cox, Rayjon… Rajon… Cox
That's not a punch line, that's real facts
I ain't playing games
You know it's fucked up when you gotta say pause
Every time you say your name
Just think, if he played ball
And it was clutch time to put a shot in, and then the coach said, "Time out! Come on, guys, we gotta put Cox in."
Or what about if he's home sleeping
And his n***as on the block's tough
And Suge's is like, "Hold on, y'all
Let me go get my n***a Cox up."
With that gay ass name, y'all believe in this faggot ho?
And really think he be scrapping though?
I swear the only n***a that ever seen Cox fighting is Calicoe
But let me guess, you'll really let me have it though
When it's time, ‘cause you Crip you gonna have your n***as jump me, get a couple of black guys?
Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said, have your n***as jump me and get a couple of black eyes
N***a, how do you want it?
I can click it or jig it, either way when I strike
Y'all gon' get this boy caught when I pick it
N***a, when if we bring the fist in
If I said you know what time it is, you will get clocked in a second by our hands, and I meant it
N***a, we could get it poppin', soon as I get two TEC's I'm coming out to Jersey, like Dennis Rodman
Yo, Surf, we could take it there, ain't no telling what I'd do
You gon' find out that I'm good with the left and the right too
I'm the one who he's dreading here
So you better just always keep it wrapped, like Erykah Badu
Surf, how did you get outta jail twice so fast for gun charges?
That's ‘cause this n***a was ratting
You are an informant, the worst type n***a
I hate snitches with my soul, you deserve to die, n***a
‘Cause you tell Jersey police
Who's wearing the blue and red, who'll shoot the lead
To get 'em locked down
With the ball and chain, like a newlywed
Just to get appeal, anything on his chest he'll cough it up
That's how we know that Tsu the feds
N***a, I wish you were dead
Your n***as behind you make it worse
I wouldn't say you official if they gave you a whistle
I should leave y'all brains on a rug, rat
When I raise that Tommy, like Stewie Pickles
That especially goes to this rat
That talks to the boys, like Stewart Little
N***a, you give out more statements than Mastercards
These are proven facts
You make real n***as lose all hope when you doin' that
See, that's just like Master Splinter
I mean, and we all remember that sewer rat
Slow it down! I just dissed you!
I said we all remember that Tsu a rat
You gambling with your life
You better roll out when them deuces clap
Looking at me with them snake eyes
You gonna see a couple die when I'm shooting craps
Tsunami's looking shaky, baby!
Where'd you get that subtitle shit from Surf?
Daddy, pussy! Your whole block done told you
You are my son, I should scold you, and you stealing will only make somebody like me pop this on you
Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said, you stealing will only make somebody like me, Pops, disown you
You see, that's the problem with this bum
He took S.O.N.S. whole shit and just evolved it into one
That's why your whole battle style is like Father's Day
‘Cause all your presence, you got it from a S.O.N
But he don't even do it right, ain't nobody gonna fear him
It's a good thing you put those rhymes in subtitles
‘Cause nobody wanna hear them
This n***a's lying to this day
Acting like subtitles ain't the same, that's why he named himself Surf, because he riding a n***a wave
Slow it down and subtitles
That shit is more than a slight stretch
You bit my style, you bit my bars
And now you getting your mic checked
N***a, you scared of S.O.N., so we know you just like a vampire: we know it's something you gon' bite next
N***a, I light TEC's and I'm bucking 'em
I ain't staring hard when I say that I'm mugging him
Two pistols, silencers on when I'm dumping 'em
I know you fear a Con, that's a lie
If you think you could run after I muzzle 'em
So, Smack, you gave me a n***a
That chokes in ciphers when he spittin' rhymes
How's he supposed to be the champ
And give me the shoe when he can't even finish lines?
Everything you drop is garbage, you should get "elitified"
So before you do your rounds saying how you grip the 9
And you so real with those Crippin' lines
Remember, in order for you to be on Real N***a Time
You first have to a be a real n***a... Time!
[Round 1: Tsu Surf]
Look in my eyes, Con, I hope you can see that G in me
You right, I wasn't in Detroit with that shotgun
But I did have that D with me
But first off, for me even taking this shit…
Nah, I'm lying, you deserve this
But I brought my lucky Eagle
Guess who's standing under the bird shit
No, I told Smack book Surf and Con for the competition
I write that perfect composition
To sleep him in a calm position
Now, what you trap in? Spikes?
What you put work in? Louis?
Something leads me to believe you the family guy, Stewie
But we in this bitch, I could feel that 40 liquor in both legs
And I ain't got chasers after the shots
Fuck I need to put it in subtitles or somethin'?
He with his bitch, I let that 40 lick her in both legs
So I don't gotta chase her after the shots
Real recognize real, I could see if he tough in his eyes
Nothing can save you from these things, nothing but God
This shit heavy, I gotta lift it up from the side
I give 'em all fives, like I'm getting up with the guys
Say something stupid, I wish you would, n***a
We could go swing for swing if you could, n***a
What you 'bout to say, Jersey lost to Nets? Good, n***a
The best shooters still in my hood, n***a
Come on, tell me how your SIG's burst
How you'll get me from rhymes dealt with two 9's
About that big one shot pump that'll fold like a futon
Before you get the fronting 'bout how you real and do crime
This is nothing like Detroit
You can spare us with them Tsu lines
But you know what?
I believe you would surf… in Frank's ocean
You some old cat leather blouse type
Unbutton with your tank showin'
I could be hospitable and hospital you, get him a bed then
So even if you are a G three'll leave you layin' in with red skin
O said, "What you think they gon' find?"
I said, "Whatever them cops can take."
Suge said, "They all out of MAC's."
I said "Whatever, then cop the TEC."
Check, real rap, Smack said Con wanna rap, I'm like, "Why?"
I mean, he's Con but, shit, I'm I
And that's blasphemy, but if the bread might hit my line
And y'all gonna watch me nail your dog
Backwards to a cross, like God
You ain't gotta ask where I'm from – Jersey, bitch!
And all those bullshit stories
You probably got it from that Jersey bitch
Am I mad? Hell nah, that's Jersey shit
I took everything, they ain't never gave Jersey shit
Lesson 1: you can't be mad if bitches tell, it happens a lot
I keep a heavy trigger finger, so I clack 'til it stop
And if I gotta let it go then I'ma clap 'til he drop
POW! I felt like Kobe how word got back to the block after the shots… Pau, Kobe, Howard, back to the block
You see my angle, that 40 got a big nose
I introduce you to the triangle
They said you was a puncher, you look more like a speed bag Slow it down! I just dissed you! Aye, Goodz
That's how you know a S.O.N. with the Lakers; Steve Nash
I mean, I could have a bad impression of you
Correct me if I speak wrong
So basically I ain't got time for your kid games
You wanna jump? Go ahead and leap, frog!
Even if y'all did have that work in the kitchen, we cook better
Another S.O.N., well, welcome to the Twilight new moon
You fucking with some wolfs, Bella
A few dineros and the lil' homies'll treat him like a Goodfella
It's about being great, the best
Never taking shorts, it ain't hard to ball
How the fuck they get in the club? Who carding y'all?
And that n***a from St. Louis, I would pull his card an all
But nah, we don't mention lames
‘Cause we were silencer subtweeting with them birds
Way before them Twitter games
I mean, your friends look like tough guys
I would hope they wouldn't let us jump the man
See, I wouldn't even shoot him, just give him that headbutt
They won't ever lend another hand
Brother man, brother man, you in some deep shit
‘Cause I ain't even done yet, peep this
Sittin' in the bushes, he don't know he gettin' snaked on Sawed-off Mossberg, K Shine face on
X-Factor hat, no big T, he getting staked on
Bunch of steel clacking, like I'm tryin' to put weights on
Boom! You look like a different n***a
From the one that I was tweetin'; actually, you don't even look like the type of n***a I'd beef with
Seem pretty fresh, bitches like you
Why would I wanna kill y'all?
Nah, you that n***a I save, like, "Yo, chill, y'all!"
And so what if I'm whooping your ass, bitch? Fight back!
Other option a gun or run
But that 9'll peel, like it's tryin' to get it's life back
Ask about me, I be roamin' for the pasta
They'll find you in an alley way moanin' for a doctor
Pull up on him on the freeway, stolen in a Honda
Long arms, Dhalslm; flippin' over the divider
Fuck, y'all waiting for that subtitle?
Long arms that'll send him flippin' over the divider
What's your confession, Usher?
That you not really a midget?
Well, we Chris Brown bitches
This could be your last weekend, one push of a digit
This ain't Love and Hip-Hop
I doubt that K miss shells when it's spittin'
But you, Trey Songz, he gon' wish he never did it
Catch him coming down the stairs
I tell the homie, like, "Shhh! Shhh!"
Think it's a game 'til you are in the middle of that ch-ch
See, I'm way to advanced for these n***as and it hurt
Like that last bar for instance
You are in the middle of that ch-ch; that's "church"
[Round 2: Conceited]
How are you from Newark, New Jersey?
The place that never been scared
But you rep Rollin 60's, a Los Angeles gang
And you've never been there
Alright, who created it? Who formed it?
When was it started? Who's the Eight Tray Gangsters?
None of them questions he can answer neither
I bet if you if y'all ask him, "What is a Hoover?"
He'll probably tell you it's a vacuum cleaner
But for some reason that's the shit he gon' stay claimin'
Knowing damn well in jail you was Clay Aiken
Used to drop the soap on purpose to say he be gang bangin'
They was like, "Look at Surf, this dirty but pretty ass n***a."
You came home, Suge put you under his titties ass n***a
That really fat, you really black iffy ass n***a
Boy, in the hood I heard Shotgun popped and killed you from the back; you a Ricky ass n***a
Now, a lot of y'all is like, "C'mon, Conceited, stop the lying!"
But it's the truth, his name shows you
That Rayjon will always have Cox behind him
N***a, I'll cock the iron and dump it
Let a n***a test, if I go to the chambers
Cases drop, now I'ma show him justice
I'ma make 'em all rise
When I squeeze it off, you'll leak for sure
You better bail, if I see jewelry it'll peel
I bang hammers like a judge
And one try will get your peoples caught
I let the heaters torch and send him to Hell with blammers
I slide shells in hammers
And he can catch the steel, like surveillance cameras
Now, he has been in cells and stammers
You even held your own, n***a
Heard you got a couple strikes in the pen, you bold, n***a
Nah, if he got a couple strikes and a pin, you bowled, n***a
Surf, you not a loc, n***a, that's why he's fuckin' scared
It'll go bad if you don't put a lid on it, like Tupperware
N***a, these clips I got is not for cuttin' hair
That hammer bang, anywhere you at I'm buckin' there
You better stop all that false Crippin' up in here
Soon as I see that flag
I'm picking up that big nose, like double dare
Now everybody open up your ears and hear how the story go For us to see that you not poppin'
You ain't gotta be on the Maury Show
I open rounds just for the cream; that's an Oreo
And that shit'll put Cox through the wall, like the glory hole
And if you with your bitch you oughta tell your shorty go
And you also better leave, brah
‘Cause I gotta Taurus, and with this can, sir
I will cap a corn and give your whore a scope
Now, this shit must be all a joke
You got ten people at your shows, you call that tourin'?
You said you retired from this bullshit and now you back?
Okay, he think he Jordan
Without me you wouldn't sell nothing
You battled Big T and it was like ten people applaudin'
Well, why couldn't Rayjon sell tix if he's such a boss then?
I walk in the house and let that 40 smoke him
Catch him while he's home alone
And let it clap on his face, like Macaulay Culkin
Surf, you joking, n***a, you ain't Loc'in, n***a
Only blue C's you know about is that ocean, n***a
Now, Joe Budden, my n***a, at least that's what I thought
But now he's guilty on many accounts
This n***a be recording our phone conversations
Now you let a snitch stay in your house?
You should be ashamed, no doubt
Why do you feel you have to be fam with a rat
Just because your name is Mouse?
And this n***a wrote Surf all bars for this battle
That's why BK stay killing y'all
I mean, I beat the shit outta Ars', and then Math did it
I would say I beat Joe Budden girl, but Fab did it
Damn right, you heard me, n***a
So how could Surf murk me, n***a?
When me and the NBA just showed y'all
That Brooklyn owns y'all Jersey n***as
But I do see the loyalty there, but it's none of it in this faggot
In Cali you said Joe Budden is trash, an attention whore
And Jersey don't fucking need him
Then you said like no other, you and Ars' are brothers
But then you turned your back on him
To Joe for a couple of features?
Well, in the streets if your brother don't fuck with a n***a
You don't fuck with him either
Everything about you is questionable
Your loyalty, the gang you repped, what set you from
The big home Ray Swag set trips in front of you
But you show him extra love
My n***a Cortez disrespected a blue flag in front of your face And took out a red one, but you ain't get reckless, Cuz
It's well known Hitman bang them big B's
But when he's around you stay getting thugged
So that shows he's the one that's really Manny Pacquiao
‘Cause he always scared to test a blood
All that fake bangin' shit, n***a, you did enough
I'll put your seed in the dirt, see if it make a sun flower
Oh, she like make-up?
Well, this MAC could give her face some gun powder
Like, get your punk ass daddy from here
That n***a will get wet; no sun shower
I swear I'll snatch up Tsu young if he try to rush ours
I'm loading up them Parrots until my hand numb
And that shit will pop, pop without a grandson
Everything you say is make up; that's Lancome
I'm the type to reach for the handgun
‘Cause I be quick to get foul and buck it, like an And 1
N***a, name one hot bar he's gotten off
I'll wax him like a cotton swab
Y'all see him get served over the net, like a volleyball
Flash them beads and I'm showing two cans, like Mardi Gras Them gats shoot, and they will cap Tsu, like Tylenol
Bullets are going into your temple, like the Taj Mahal
I lift pounds, spit rounds, take him down; Chris Brown
You need to stop with that bitch sound
‘Cause only a bitch will lock pick a door Iike "errrr"
Real n***as will shoot that shit down
This n***a could never show his face in Detroit, ‘cause Proof's mans, they will melt you, with cannons and hecklers
I swear they would cook you
If they saw your face in the glove, like Hamburger Helper
[Round 2: Tsu Surf]
I come at your whole crew neck
I make you bitches look hood
I guess Joe Budden rubbed off
I make all you bitches look good
But pause, pause, timeout, timeout
You had your dick, pause, on the back
Pause, of another man's head, pause
Which leads me to believe you'll get hit from the back
On another man's bed, pause
Now, aside from the bars for a second
I'm just tryin' to see where your brain at
You over 21, not a cheerleader, and had your legs wrapped around another grown man head… explain that!
You can't, so don't, that's gay, who you fucking kiddin'?
If your naked face had a mustache I'd punch you in it
And fuck your swag, pussy!
We don't do it for no mothafuckin' Louie hats
‘Cause I been to a place where ain't no mothafuckin' Louie at
And those same OG's that taught me
"Never change when you winning," said just ‘cause he look like he get it don't mean that he got it
The ones that usually have it, you never really could spot it
And the ones that flash ain't got enough
Or they dumb so they don't hide it
Question, if all y'all money on your outfit
Then what the fuck is in your pocket?
Oh, you cool ‘cause you dress for the awards?
What, you want an Oscar? Let's play swear to God
Swear to God on your mother
You wasn't battling and working at Red Lobster
Exactly, so I don't wanna hear about
How you spray and clap the mags
But I just might believe you if you say you cracked the crab These fans think everybody real
And everybody giving out coffins
NOT! What these fans don't know is Reggie here
Is from Miami with the Dolphins
Tell 'em, Reginald! Don't worry, I'II do it
I was getting ready for this lesson
I started stretchin', started lookin'
Searched your name on YouTube
And noticed all your battles your hometown said "Brooklyn"
Now, when I think of hometown I think: caught my first charge, got my first pussy, bought my first tool there…
Not your family visit the city
You move in the summers or moved there
We trap, we hang, we bang
Skipped a few classes, but safe to say we went to school there Now, I wonder which Brooklyn hood
Gon' admit Con had his heat blowing
Where your tool at? Where you went to school at?
Tilden, Wingate, Prospect Heights
James Madison – should I keep going?
Boys and Girls, Canarsie, Sheepshead Bay, Midwood
You ain't from no fucking New York
What's wrong with Miami if you live good?
And you ain't even from no fucking Miami
You from Pembroke Pines, that's a 20/30-minute drive
What good is bars on top of bars if your foundation is lies?
You went to Charles Flanagan High, Reginald, accept it
A real man once told me, "Once your card gets pulled
Your hands is what you left with."
You know nothing about what you rap about, that is not G
And that hater that told you about me, that is not me
Why you paying so much attention to a life that's not free?
I don't glorify shit, ‘cause if I ain't get them they'd a got me
You went to war with Bricks, Heartless and Fox
That ain't real clever… Just like a conceited bitch
Hang around a bunch of corny bitches to feel better
So I don't wanna hear about
How you spray and dump the heat
‘Cause real n***as know
You only as real as the company you keep
But this the n***a I'm supposed to fear?
Can't even look over my shoulder clear
You look like a runner, lift your chin up, hold it there
You mortal? Well, if Con bat
I'ma let that Scorpion scream "Get over here!"
But you from Brooklyn, right?
Well, I got some n***as that's notorious for work, they lil' me's Y'all better pray he got faith
Or sir rock a vest, puffy enough he won't feel these
Keep it moving; that's Kim, one call and he will bleed
My lil' Crips off real shit
That could be a big death from them lil' C's

[Round 3: Conceited]
So, you stole my subtitles from me, Surf
Is the name flip next? You gonna move on?
See, if I was you I would've said "I keep that tool on
And y'all would thought I was Kemba Walker
The way I keep shooting at you, Con"
But you not nice like that
Imagine Surf tryin' to clap them hammers
When that fire ring, you ain't getting up
From the dirt; you ain't Captain Planet
If what I grip starts to click, like Adam Sandler
Then that pump can light up, like a jack o' lantern
See, now I know the sound of it is bad
But I also got a meter that'll get you around, like a cab
Go ahead, try to run, you gon' hear "Pow! Pow!" from the mag See, that's that bull, I don't know what you heard
If it's beef this cat'll put the cal to your calf
Now that I'm mad I'm ending this shit
Behind bars you can get your mug-shot; that's a criminal pic
Mr. Rayjon Cox, you're not really a Crip
You an actor, you need to get in a flick
You don't get props from the set, you need to stick to the script; your life's a movie theater, cinema clip
I said "Your life's a movie, the 8 will send him a clip!"
I put dick in your bitch, she got that awesome puss
I made her cream, like Abdul-Jabber
So when I scored it was off the hook
She was like, "Damn, Conceited! Thank you, pa!"
Then I put my tip in her mug, like a thank-you jar
I cannot believe this n***a wifed it
I take her to the military when I pipe it
I don't know what he offers her, but she'll get the semen
If it's about face I command her to get on a private
Now we all know I can dead him
And spit at him like a drill sergeant in a few minutes
Go in his pockets and General
You getting capped in if it's major loot in it
That 5 air you can die here, like a beautician
And your man can die hard too, like Bruce Willis
N***a, you don't use triggers when you look for noise
Said he had the lion with the long nose
Like Pinocchio, you wouldn't, boy
But you will get clapped good tryin' to act hood
Ayo, fat Suge! It's a wrap for your bud, like Backwoods
That's how you know I'm a split his guts
He getting loud I mean is this what you really want?
Since he think he a OG we'd roll up, spark the clip
And smoke you roaches even if you get a little blunt
Now these n***as already know how we'll give it up
See, Suge is cool, but I know real 60's and this n***a's not one So if it's beef after, don't worry
We'll still get along, Shotgun… Nah, fuck that!
I said "If it's beef after, we'll still get a long shotgun!"
Fuck that fat faggot, you a bitch too!
And just cause your little dog a bitch
Does not mean you the shit, Tsu
Now, I'ma tell y'all the quick truth
Somebody told me Surf has an STD
I swear that shit was news to even me
I got a bitch in Amboy, New Jersey
She has a little sister and she's a teen
She said "Surf went out with my best friend
Then tried to sleep with me."
But after they had sex that girl was on fire, like Alicia Keys
So I'm like "Damn!
You tryin' to give everyone those diseases, fam?!"
I heard you eat out the box like a slice of pizza, and
He's tryna have the whole Jersey burnin', like a Cleveland fan
Now I know that shit just got him mad
Isn't it ironic, a Crip that got some crabs?
N***a, why don't you just be like Usher, tell us a confession
You got caught up and you let it burn and you got it bad
Now I know that shit got him sad
‘Cause after this, why will any chick let him pipe still?
Y'all better watch out
This n***a will give you disease faster than NyQuil
Now, why did you deal with that same bitch
That gave K Shine something in his mouth?
And you still went and get your lick on Asia?
Tsu, she roll with crabs and you still ate her fish roll
I said Asia sushi roll with crabs and he still ate her fish roll
Now sit the fuck down, pussy
Daddy's got business to handle
Hey, Thunder boy K.D, this n***a talking shit on Twitter
His mind must be crazy gone
I swear I run into any crib he might even maybe own
And y'all will think I'm Tom Cruise
The way I'm dumping K.D. homes
I'll ride at that house, like Neverland Ranch
Surf bitch want me to wife her and get her band
But that's never the chance
After she get blown out I'm deading them plans; you'll see her crying when she don't get a ring, like Kevin Durant
Get back over here, pussy, Daddy's finished
You will not clack the blicker or use hecklers
If you did I would snap back caps on him, like New Era
He think I won't 'til that steel'll show, like a bootlegger
Try to play, boy, and I'll put the jammies
On him, like Hugh Hefner
N***a, if you knew better, you'd do better
You got on green pockets for moving green, partner?
If I see him with the nicks
He'll be napping on the spot, like Rasheed Wallace
You damn right I squeeze llamas
But I won't let the pound touch you
After you get the two TEC's
I'm bringing the subs out, like they in foul trouble
But just imagine if I clap It, I blame ish
Now think of Proactiv, or I could make it clear as hell this black head better break out, ‘cause this boy will pop, that's it
Get it, that's it, that zit, scratch it
The way my bars over head I should be in gymnastics
If I pack it, let that Glock explode
You'll think he has a foot problem; I'll make sure the cal is on his corn & the hammers will take out your soul
You'll see defeat and he'll be in pain until a doctor shows
Yeah, I lock and load hollows in the .38
That heat will dead you; I'm just like a waiter
Soon as I show him the special he'll see a menu
Slow it down! I just dissed you!
I said: "Soon as I show him the special we'll see 'em in you"
Slow it down some more!
I said: "Soon as I show him the special we'll see 'em end you"
Slow it down once more!
Show him the special we'll see him and you!"
I swear that shit will get mad real
When you see these caps peel they ain't Advils
It can be 10 of you n***as, I'll clap steel
And still cap at all ten I see, like Nashville
Surf, you fucking with that white girl, that must be jungle fever You softer with nicks than Cousin Skeeter
N***a, you could be a block away, 100 meters
And I'll still buck it from afar, like a buzzer beater
So you need to stop stealing my style with all that chit chat
I'm feeling like O.J. Simpson
I had to but him behind bars to get my own shit back

[Round 3: Tsu Surf]
We gon' call this one a doobie; that's a wrap for you bitches
I can swear on my daughter I never burned a chick
But I could swear on my mother I clapped a few bitches
Like everything you say is for laughs
First you said I had a burning chick, then you said I had crabs But anyways, they usually say I'm known for my seconds
In a minute our confrontation will be done
Yo, bring that hearse round
Y'all gassed ‘cause he slowing down lines?
N***a, you could slow my whole verse down
I can't front, this little corny act killing me
A big MAC and two 9's, I could order that literally
Throwing bullets like it's my job
I know the quarterbacks feeling me
These two 9's start flipping shit around the room
I call these a pair of normal activities
You said you had a gun Sean Bradley size… pipe down!
I only hit his head and shoulders, he'll get skyped down
Catch him close range, then his stomachs shot right now
After five I leave a stapled center; Mike Brown
Lil' n***as like you, where I'm from, get hemmed up
He battled Tall T and said he'll
"Pass the Glock to Fox…" and then what?!
Let me get a little closer, y'all hear me know? Good, you get more than clothes if I gotta put these hand me's down
I'll wreck to his crib, I don't care if his mom there
Camping outside, I wonder if she got the new LeBron's there
One address and them Goonies gonna bomb there
I tell 'em let that fir nickel her cage
But it's face off if Con there
Speaking of your mother, what that bitch was sniffing when she had you? It must be grams
I'm Jonesin to snatch them Juelz; I must be Cam'
I ain't strapped, but my homie is, and once he blam
They gon' find you, Con, on a shirt; shout out to Husky fans
This n***a high as a kite thinking he could pass me
I guess Drake ain't the only one high off the grass, see
Got malt liquor for soft n***as
That's a 40 and start pouring on you
And with all them tats
You should be used to n***as drawing on you
I mean, the last dude was kinda cool, but his swag lame
Painted a cool picture with a bad frame
I really said no, all the way until the cash came
Judge screamed, "Why'd you shoot Brix?"
I responded, "I had a bad game."
These next few bars, just something that I gotta do
‘Cause a lot of these fake n***as would never bother to
Shine, Ill, X, T, D… wins, debatables, bodies, I got a few
But one thing they all had is why I never bothered you Heartless gave you breath, QP fathered you
I'm sick and fucking tired of these so called leader cats
You really not nice, your image is why you lead your pack
I mean, let's be real, who else would you run behind?
Brixx? Fox? That's fucking buffoonery, this bullshit stops
You on a team with Brixx and Fox!
Half theses n***as laughing and half these n***as lost
He half the human height so I pay half to get him off
I seen his shoes, his pants, his shirt
What, you wanna get interviewed for Smack?
Oh, y'all waiting for that subtitle? I seen his shoes
His pants, his shirt, he got in the view and smacked