[Round 1: Tay Roc]
Free Surf
Bruh, I wouldn't front you a pack if I sold coke
No joke, he look like he'd take it and go ghost
If he did, that's what happens to him, his soul floats
We cut the lights off and slow coast
Sticks hangin' out each side of the whip, lookin' like paddles for rowboats
Brrrrrrrrrrrrt
The plug hit by a Tommy, like Lobos
It's death in his future, n***a you ain't even know it
Rocko, pronto, I'll have a vato waitin' outside ya spot though
50 rounds lettin' this oowop go
A ton'll (tunnel) go through the plug crib; El Chapo
Plug talk? N***a, ya voice doesn't count
Swear to God ya name ain't David Doster...and you ain't go into a courtroom and point n***as out
I don't wanna hear none of that drug talk
You tellin' on n***as? Bring a whole new meaning to "plug talk"
Right, this shit hear ain't nothin' to play about
I don't usually bring news to y'all door, so now we talkin' the paper route (out)

{Tay Roc pulls out a document from his jacket}

Look at his face, this guy got caught
I ain't even gon' waste y'all time, let's get straight into that highlight part
David Doster, that's you, right?
I'm only askin' because it says you viewed this video somewhere before a superior court judge
You tellin' on n***as in court? That's the worst part
And it says he identified, "Platinum", "Decky", "J-Jerk" and "Starks"
I'm not sayin' you're supposed to be a felon my n***a
But this case was in '09, you ratted in 2012, you couldn't wait to start tellin' my n***a
Question my n***a, it says in this paperwork that your brother got hit in the face with a bottle and you was there
Why you ain't help him my n***a?
Only thing you helped him do was RAT on a n***a put hands on him
Ya brother took a bottle to the face and you took the stand on him
[Kyd Slade] Cap!
[Tay Roc] Facts! It's in the work n***a!
[Kyd Slade] Read it! Don't ask me questions. Read it. I'll beat yo' ass
[Tay Roc] I wish you would touch me n***a. Are you fuckin' dumb?
[Kyd Slade] Read it. You know the vibes
[Tay Roc] I wish you would touch me. Ayo touch me again. Ayo, you gon' get fucked up, I'm tellin' you! You a rat!

{scuffle breaks out on stage}

[Smack to Tay Roc]
Work, work, work, work. Do your job my n***a. Don't get emotional my n***a. You're a bol. Aight. Do you

[Tay Roc to the camera holding the paperwork]
Ayo this is how rats act. How is he actin' tough? He's a rat. He's a fuckin' rat. This is real. I don't got time to make this shit up. C'mon bruh. I got this from the n***a he ratted on. You shittin' me? N***a. Play with me n***a

[Kyd Slade to the crowd]
That n***a won't come outside. He won't come outside. And I caught him in the mall the day before yesterday. Read it though. Read it n***a!

[Tay Roc]
Now David Doster, that's you, right?
I'm only askin' because it says you viewed this video somewhere before a superior court judge
You tellin' on n***as in court? Is the worst part
And it says he identified, "Platinum", "Decky", "J-Jerk" and "Starks"
I'm not sayin' you're supposed to be a felon my n***a
But this case was in '09, you ratted in 2012, you couldn't wait to start tellin' my n***a
Question my n***a, your brother got hit in the face with a bottle and you was there
Why you ain't help him my n***a?
Only thing you helped him do was RAT on a n***a put hands on him
Ya brother took a bottle to the face and you took the stand on him
Fair warnin', you do some dumb shit, it's gon' get you slapped
Ya brother? The Mark Doster n***a? A bigger rat
I swear to God he is
[Kyd Slade] Talk about me bro. Talk about me bro. Talk about me
[Tay Roc] Shut up while I'm rappin' n***a! If this was me, n***as would've put this shit out before the battle and I'd have been on Oprah! You shittin' me?

[Tay Roc]
Listen Smack, these not thugs
And this is public info on jud.ct.gov
Shout out to the n***a you ratted on
I can't even take the credit
He tried to give the info to Stumbles, his dumb ass ain't get the message
You're a rat, it's pathetic
That plug talk? Synthetic
I blame ya mama and ya daddy, it's all in ya genetics
At first, I thought it was just him and his n***as just tryin' to troll me
N***a said he had paperwork on you, I told him, "Show me."
After lookin' at it closely I realized that it wasn't phony
The n***a got out six years ago but they gave 37 to his co-d
Facts!

[Kyd Slade] I never had a co-d in my life. Fuck is you talkin' 'bout?

[Tay Roc]
Fuck you! Clown!
We teach n***as snitchin' a lesson
You lucky that wasn't us, we would've sent him to Heaven
Grippin' a weapon
Hah, you did all that and thought you could come to battle rap, what your pussy ass thought this was witness protection?
{Tay Roc is in Kyd Slade's face and Slade moves his elbow out to make some space between himself and Tay Roc, and Roc pushes him, and a scuffle ensues}

[Tay Roc]
Fuck you! Clown!
We teach n***as snitchin' a lesson
You lucky that wasn't us, we would've sent him to Heaven
Grippin' a weapon
Hah, you did all that and thought you could come to battle rap
What? You thought this was witness protection?
Free Surf, we don't do no dwellin'
Buyers tell too, gotta be careful what you sellin'
Get it from the hills, if it's purple we inhale it
Aye Surf, I can say "free the gang" cause now I know who tellin'
This rat ass n***a
You play wit' me, I'll hit you wit' one slug
You wouldn't have even made it in front of that dumb judge
Tell on us, mama, papa, daughter and son drugged
But you hooked to machines, watchin' MTV 'til you Unplugged
You Chatty Patty, don't wanna hear 'bout ya drugs no more
Don't wanna hear you rappin' like you a thug no more
Don't wanna hear you rappin' 'bout ya snub no more
We fuck wit' wireless charge and we don't need this plug no more
I'ma down this n***a
Smack was really 'bout to crown this n***a
After this don't pound this n***a
Where you found this n***a?
You ain't know you brought a rat 'round us n***a
Fuck gun bars, I don't even wanna rap 'round this n***a
You clown ass n***a, you try to finesse me in a slick way
Bitch play, that blue sky above you? Gon' get grey
If I don't like what a snitch say, clips spray
Go in his pockets, soon as I get his ID, (Ahdi) BOOM, wit' a Big(g) K
Finding out the plug is a rat? That shit is straight insanity
N***a I found paperwork on you, you ain't a man to me
If you would've told on ya man we would've erased ya family
They would've talked about me killin kid (Kyd) court like Casey Anthony
It's light man

{Roc starts talking shit to Kyd Slade again and they have to be broken up}

{Kyd Slade address the crowd before his round}
Ayo. I don't got no rebuttal, I'ma just keep it tall. I got subpoenaed outta a jail cell into a courtroom. You can't deny court from a jail cell. I had to sit in a courtroom. Show them where I'm telling at. You can't. I never had a co-d in my life. Ain't nobody in jail behind me. Jerk, pussy and we down n***as. Now I'm a rap. And right after this don't- none of this extra shit just walk around the corner wit' me. You don't wanna fight though. I work n***a. Watch. I'm certified outside n***a. I'm certified n***a. Fuck you talkin' 'bout. I'm certified outside n***a. What?

[Round 1: Kyd Slade]
Ayo, I know you miss your man, free the Wave, we share some pain wit' him
But before we get into any of these bars, we need to talk
Cause that n***a told you to suck his dick on Neighborhood, sucka
And then you drove to the neighborhood and start a gang wit' him?
Surf fell on his ass, grabbed you to bounce back but you couldn't hang wit' him
Oh but now-a-days, we let you tell it you down to bang wit' him
You put in pain wit' him
And if this shit do ever hit the fan, go to the grave wit' him
Well if you was outside wit' ya right-hand man, why the fuck you not on that case wit' him?
Gettin' arraigned wit' him
Sittin' in the courtroom, shackled up, gettin' pointed at by the main victim?
Eazy, if this is right-hand man, why the fuck he not in the Cave wit' him?
Bullshit!
Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!

N***as battle rap friends! And I can fight! Watch this! I swear to God. Watch this. I'ma down this n***a. On my mother. Soon as we get out-

Bullshit!
Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!
The Feds snatched my righthand man for a Rico n***a they comin' to kick my door next
You got some explainin' to do
Matter of fact, we know it's just battle rap so let me explain it to you
Like what the fuck is up? You be constantly on the internet actin' tough wit' a fuckin' gun
But when n***as came and snatched yo' chain, you ain't up it once
They whooped yo' man's ass on stage and you ain't up it once
If I was Brizz on sight, you gettin' hit wit' a sucker punch
Snatch you by your thin ass neck and you get another punch, and another punch
Why don't you tell us why the fuck yo' hands never work when it's time to knuckle up
You bitch ass n***a!

{chokes}

Stop talkin' like a hoe, cause you a [?] on the low
Blade out, poke a pussy, carve a n***a throat
Or brains out, unload the fully, carbon in the coat
Ain't trust Jesus, n***a I made my profit off the dope
Backpage, had a digital brothel on the low
Harlem Nights, I took some white and I locked it in the vault
Money ain't make me bitch, I was poppin' and was broke
If I catch Chess out wit' Tay I'm targeting them both
And they gon' find you with half yo' wig blown out, huggin' Roc(k) like Martin had to Cole
Najiramba, bare faced chopper hop out of Tundra's
Don't run, cause I'm fast wit' a gun, I'll be right behind ya
One stick, put five shooters on it, we stackin' sliders
30 clip, the extendo look like a pack of Mambas
You a bitch, find ya hotel turn it into Rwanda
Gun Titles? I'll leave you stiff in a box reppin' Wakanda
Throw it up, and they all gon' follow like the 'La Bamba'
In the bathroom, choppin' up china like I'm E. Honda
Let a MAC shoot, bang wit' the Heat like Harold Miner
You vagina, I mean bitch to me
We gon' hold down the game wit' no Wave? The n***a Tay? Is you kiddin' me?
I will issue headstones and put these pussy n***as under Roc(k), literally
The stick wit' me, lead ya girl
50 clip in the heater curl
The hammer plastic, that's a 3D printed ratchet like Cita's World
Revolvers pop, the heaters twirl
The gloves on, keep it sterile
You all rap, and I can see through the cap like Secret Squirrel
It's demoralizin', when your story touchin' our hearts but your appeal can't reach
They gave my mans triple life
Basically tellin' him once he died he still can't leave
I heard you was on the phone with the muthafuckin' ops
My first thought was get you shot, and it still ain't leave
That's why we brung arms as strong as a power forward, in the wheelchair league
I slide accordingly
Now hurry the fuck up and rap so these n***as can hear some more of me
Gangsta! 1-0 n***a!

[Round 2: Tay Roc]
Main event me? You better be delivering with adrenaline
I'm done bein' a gentlemen this is genuine
No gigglin'
Sharpen a pencil and push ya temple in
In other words, if Kyd outta line better be scribblin'
You listenin'?
Yo, you tryin' to check Roc(k)? Better be dribblin'
Or the silencer, ssstt ssstt sound like it's sizzlin'
Shot in the jaw, your blood fly, feel like it's drizzlin'
Ayo, y'all ever seen a n***a close his mouth and still be whistlin'?
You tremblin', the .9 come from the Timberlands
Body with lead, like you a resident of Flint, Michigan
New gadget, from Switzerland, they just shipped it in
I can't control this Gizmo, it's a Gremlin
It's lit for him
Why is this cat lyin' about packs flyin'
Or he put bricks on a boat and it start capsizin'
Boy, I keep somethin' Ill on my side, Mackk Myron
Gun butt, straight in (straighten) Slade wig, it's a flat iron
Gat firin', I catch him lackin' inside his Jeep
It go through the windshield, you, then the driver's seat
Suppression on it, when I put up, silent heat
Saved By The Bell oh Slade'll (Slater) hear is the tires Screech
You the student that I'm tryin' to teach, I swear I'm the best coach
Instead of writin' these rounds, you should've wrote your death note
Leave his chest, throat, full of bullet holes and TEC smoke
Turn Kyd Slade to Slade Wilson, give him a Death Stroke
This gat get sprayed, 'matic waved, comin' at the Cave
We swing through the skies (disguise) like it's a masquerade
They knew you wasn't winnin' alone off my accolades
Today? Just ain't son day (Sunday) it's Saturday
This gat get sprayed, Smack dug this cat a grave
I grab a blade, buck 150, then you get hit with the aftershave
If I'm catchin' shade, you catch a fade
Dave Olson, Game Of Thrones, I'ma end up draggin' (dragon) Slade
Tay a vet, why would this n***a wanna play with death?
Talkin' 'bout all the different weight he stretch
That's only gon' make me want to pull up, where he kick it, wavin' TECs
Takin' china off his road dawg, that's the generation next
It's almost 2023, you still sellin' packs, prolly
I sold soft, Zany, X and I had Molly
I stopped trappin', cause I ain't care if what I sold would catch bodies
I would come to the ring with the scale still on me like Crash Holly
Ask 'bout me
Ain't no finessin' me wit' grams
I had fiends that was fuckin' with the H like Stephanie McMahon
If it wasn't for rap, I never would stop settin' up shop
Scott Hall vs. Dwayne Johnson, Razor's Edge to The Roc(k)
Heckler and Koch, make you a stain on the floor
Put a black cloud over him, wherever he roamin' rains (Roman Reigns) gonna pour
Whatchu play wit' me for?
.223, chest shot
This one, .23 kid (Kyd) will turn you to ex-Pac
Ya breath stop
You must wanna get smacked open-handed
Kyd, you bigger than sellin crack, don't lower ya standards
I retired from sellin' coke in abandons
But get the urge to make up (makeup) with that white girl like L'oreal Paris
Call me "Roc DaVinci", I could paint you the perfect pics
I used to juggle work, now I let these clowns do the circus shit
I tried to turn one into 36
The dope came out the aluminum foil brown and the stamps said, "Hersey Kiss"
You heard me bitch
Get hit wit' a 30 clip
Leave you missin' as if Twork no-showed this battle, people worried sick (Sikh)
Inf' red on an Arsonal (arsenal) I'ma merc you wit'
Surf through with a Shotgun, sound like some Jersey shit
This pipe clap, he won't get his life back
Do him ill, mice trap
Do him Ill, Ice Pack
Battlin' me in Irving Plaza wouldn't go like that
I would've hung kid (Kyd) over a balcony; Mike Jack'
Light bruh

[Round 2: Kyd Slade]
They said, "Slade gon' come to the Civil War stage...
And get 30 by-" I think the fuck not
Bitch I'm 9-0 for a reason, I'm one of them Roc
With enough Glocks
I'm gon' beat yo' muh- ayo fuck that
Ayo Smack, I really walked away from a drug block
You know I dedicate everything I got to the stage I miss enough quap
Good performances, haymakers, shake the building, this where the love stop
I mean, we see all these rappers get hit wit' the Rico and y'all gave the plug Roc(k)?
What I do wrong?
I'm just fuckin' witchu, see tonight Gun Titles the ops so we gettin' moved on
Like, if I catch Tay wit' the Wave that's 2/5th of the crew gone
Cause you know what happen when the driller gets subtitles and Roc(k) together; a tombstone
Get moved on, when the choppers come out, you get chewed on
I done kicked in a few doors my n***a, it's no cappin'
I catch Roc and his broke ass friends, both lackin', toast clappin'
Impact to ya ribs, you hear bones crackin'
When I send somethin' black at him (Black Adam) it his Roc(k) in the chest with a bolt action
See respect is everything and that's what I demand cause I'm a G
Playin' phone tag with my ops gon' get ya stupid ass shot, you better watch what you say when you talk to me
It's always battle rap 'til this shit ain't battle rap, and they gotta get Roc off rock, you know, scoop that man up out that street
Cause this banana clip so muthafuckin' long that bitch damn near form a "C"
When I hit the stove and straight drop Roc(k), I admit it brung more fiends
What the fuck I gotta put this shit in Gun Titles or somethin'?
After I let this straight drop Roc they gon' have to administer morphine
Grab the blickers, drag a n***a
Twin revolvers, classic killer
Crucible/UM4 shit, I'm from a class of killers
Me, Sheed, J2 and Foe, top gunners
Sheed out his mind, Foe really wit' it, Glock tucker
I'm really a block hugger
Had 2 spin ya strip, don't be surprised when you see a Blade slide it's a boxcutter
Let us pray
Pillow over ya head when the weapons spray
And leave feathers tangled up in ya wig like Kevin Gates
He's wildin'
A bunch of fly ass n***as, the team's stylin'
Hate comin' in from every direction, beef pilin'
Had a lab in the back of the crib, Green Goblin
Ratchet lift, leave a patch in yo' shit; Rasheed Wallace
Two bangers, the original flamer; Reed Dollaz
Why don't Roc just act like a rock and be solid?
My n***as doin' long division we see problems
Surf's sidekick keeps screamin' "Bat" but we see Robin
Hey Robin, you know Surf just dropped, got n***as wildin'
Gwitty voice, "That's nasty's son" why the fuck you not on the album?
Oh you thought that you was nice?
But those n***as won't even call you for a fight
Everybody got RB chains except you, them n***as ain't come and offer you no ice?
Your next address gon' be a grave and n***as gon' pay the mortgage with they life
Then it's gon' be an Alaskan winter
Cause I'ma have Caution mournin' (morning) through the night
You'se a fuckin' punk
Stop tellin' me you put in all this work and you legally own a fuckin' gun
You bought your hammer out the gun store, I'm not even eligible to go in one
Send gangstas at you

Bitch ass n***a. You don't put in no work. I sat on the phone for an hour with Frost. Relax

[Tay Roc] He's a rat too

[Kyd Slade]
Send gangstas at you with motive, them n***as was paid to clap you
HK, SK, AR, FN, aimin' at you
N***as hop out drawin' a bunch of random letters we playin' Scrabble
With no prayers
And that's cause I don't have faith I got drugs
And real drug dealers buy drugs
Plug talk

Say something important. And make it real n***a. Make it real. You gotta make it real. You can't make shit up with me

[Round 3: Tay Roc]
You can never be ahead of Roc, you better stop
N***a 30+ with "Kyd" in his name, that says a lot
Two guns, Beretta/Glock, I let 'me pop
Turn your strip cheese on a grater, I shred a block
When you die, don't think you gettin' a Heaven spot
Learn from DMX album, It's Dark And Hell Is Hot
You talk too much, 'We Can't Be Friends'; Debra Cox
I stick the knife in a plug, cause an electric shock
Kyd stop, y'all know this lame never can win
I'll leave Kyd (Kid) Rock'd and his back pain settling in
Watch Kyd drop, lose all the feelin' in the legs that's on him; Kid's Bop
Won't be the same every again
I've been a boss though, I ain't cut from just any cloth though
I could've been the plug but n***as like you gon' get me charged though
I had dimes and dubs of soft but the 50's hard though
When my moms was sellin' Avon I was really Marlo
If me and him don't get along he won't be livin' long though
Ridin' 'round in a mini Volvo, .30 in my Dickie's cargo
I'm really awful, keep semi-autos
You piss me off though, I'll knock on ya door, shoot you on Christmas I'm Nicky Scarfo
I could've schooled kid (Kyd) from my first rap
I heard that you the plug, if so, where the work at?
Boy I had fiends smoke a glass stem 'til it turned black
If they would've caught me with that shit they would've put me where Surf at
Watch ya mouth, I don't like to get cursed at
I put a blade in him, reverse that
Then hit his man in the main artery, burst that
If I hit a couple tee's with a pic(k), it ain't a thirst trap
I drive-by, I miss anybody, I swerve back
Get burnt at, turned into ash, you earned (urned) that
Take a dirt nap
It was the chopper you heard clap
The barrel long as the wingspan on a bird back
Think I'm bluffin' 'til somethin' under ya shirt crack
He don't believe it's a round (around), he prolly think the Earth flat
Where you learn that?
Catch one in ya fuckin' skull, put a body on the toy
Then hide Kyd (kid) soul like the Chucky doll
You undefeated on the app, I'ma beat this guy the clearest
Takin' this battle with me, must ain't got a lot to cherish
This guy'll perish, show up to funeral, show up to his house party, like I'm a terrorist
Blaow
Soon as I see Kyd (Kid) pop, I'm Robin Harris
This guy embarrassed, can't chill out on a porch's where he live
Gauge out, this'll take out a portion of his ribs
Run up wrong, I'ma be forced to air this Sig'
In the hospital, doctors forced to care for Kyd
The lettuce tucked, don't wanna hear your stories, you said enough
Metal clutch, foot on ya neck I ain't lettin' up
N***a you call yourself the "Big 7", you dead as fuck
Can' with the red dot I'm tryin' send 7-Up
Your head'll bust, everything in ya mind it'll go
No words like Tom & Jerry the silence will show
The shells out these .9's it will blow
I pull this stick, jackpot, I hit 7 three times in a row
The TEC's slanted, shots in ya chest planted
Ya upper half went over there, I don't know where the rest landed
Get pistol whipped and left stranded, with neck damage
If I catch Kyd (kid) Home Alone like the Wet Bandits

{Long break}

I pull up like Snoop did Jodie in his lady whip
So many shots, Baby Boy cryin' and think he may be hit
You make me sick
I'll break ya shit, .380 spit
Air One, then clean it off like my favorite kick
I can't believe that you the reason that some n***as did bids
Why even come to battle rap if you did what you did?
It is what it is, I'm splittin' ya wig
Two guns, I'm scratchin' the serial (cereal) off like "These tricks are for kids (Kyds)"
Stick with the Sig', blick at ya head , let rounds loose
Bumped in the woods, to find you they'll have to let hounds loose
You won't be viewable at the funeral, this cal' shoot
Now the casket for Kyd (kid) can't open, it's child proof
You a wild goof

Rap bro. I don't wanna- I wanna fight. I don't wanna do nothin' else but fight. I don't wanna do nothin' else

[Kyd Slade talking to Tay Roc] Three minutes. That's all. Three minutes. Three minutes bro. We'll be outside in three minutes

{Then Kyd Slade addresses the crowd}
I gotta say this again cause I don't play with my name. There's nobody in jail because of me. I ain't never told on a soul. Tell him to give it to you and read it. There's no one in jail cause of me. Nobody's in jail cause of me

[Round 3: Kyd Slade]
I'm not the only one that's gon' pop my n***a, we all on it
We'll pull up in Edgewood
Find that so called trap you got then foreclose it
See you in traffic, follow you to your house with a full smokin'
Catch him on the way inside, then he died and the police found Roc(k) propping the door open
Just like that Brizz shit
Instead of fightin' n***as found you proppin' the door open
Squeeze it on him
When I summon the killers had demon's formin'
It's forever on sight like cats and dogs no need for talkin'
Wise guy, pull up slow with a MAC like Steven Hawkings
Then carefully throw your wife in the trunk and proceed with Caution
N***a slow creep, after you I'm clippin' the whole fleet
Cause I got zero tolerance and after I smoke Roc(k) I'ma O.D
N***a say he need powder, I'll bring him a whole ki
But don't nobody want a brick of Roc(k) with the police
Bro's sweet
But he's actin' like his burner will dump
Make a leap, from movie caskets to a permanent one
Hold heat, he'real theatric 'til his curtain get shut
N***a gon' from screamin' "That's light!" to gettin' prepped under a surgical one
I'll murder a bum
These n***as already know you'll run
You ain't gotta be a statistic I'll turn you to one
We gotta talk
The man you became, we gotta talk
Who you became ain't the man yo' mama want
You'se a bitch with all these feminine ways it's your father fault
I guess it's safe to say that man made Roc(k) a blade like a tomahawk
I'll take aim at yo' fitted and knock it off
Knock it off!
Stop actin' like Surf that's not ya father
Why the fuck you keep screamin' "AMG Mode" when you drive a Charger?
Bitch I'll follow you, that's when a 100 plus from the chopper shoot
You ever bought a new phone and got one of them European plugs?
We will leave that Charger unrecognizable
Once you see the actual crime scene shit get even more vicious
Cause the chopper hit and left his Charger bent like it's a short in it
N***a your thing? That's your thing
Oh and my thing? That's my thing
Until I like what you doin' wit' yo' thing and
(make it my thing)
I made my name on the strip
Put in pain for my clique
Built my shit outside as an actual stepper
I'll be damn if I let some bitch n***a play wit' the shit
Don't be scared of a coffin Roc
You've seen the movies, you was literally made for this shit
And everybody knows Dracula's fake, it's slayed (Slade) wit' a stick
Whatever works for you
Let this little back and forth and I'm murkin' you
Then he really gon' die from a stake (steak) to the heart, n***a shouldn't have took the beef personal
You'se a dead n***a, dead n***a
I'm a gun tucker-
I don't know why y'all talkin'
After y'all die, who gon' provide those coffins?
I said "y'all" cause you and the whore dyin'
Wet floor sign, n***as even slide on Caution

{Some people in the crowd starts yelling out "3-0"}

Speakin' of Caution when I seen y'all prom pictures I liked the screen
I said, "Who the FUCK was Bobby and Whitney for Halloween?"
Y'all looked a fuckin' mess, like y'all channeled the inner fiend within
Don't you put that funny lookin' bitch in another shiny dress with a slick back and present it as yo' queen again
Leanin' in, with a right hook that'll lean ya chin
Break ya face make Roc look 16 again
It's G.O.D. and if ya life fucked- man time man, let's go

{Debo tries to stop Kyd Slade from immediately walking off the stage}