[Chorus x2]
Hey! you're fucking lame, your stupid game
Won't let 'em forget my, my name
HTR or CHARLEMAGNE

[VERSE 1 ]
I know a lot of n***as, that ain't real n***as
They just skin n***as, but ain't got skills n***as, unh
Pussy ass n***as, mine real killers
N***as is my sons, you can ask nicki's, bitch!
You stupid ass lines is soft, while mine is masika
N***as is bad (woof) I ain't talkin Alika
They confused by my tone of flows tones of styles?
Yeah I be heri, but no harry styles (the bullets)
I ain't from Atlanta? Why you act like Malika?
Oh wins? Would I be on Ellen? but not Latifa?
You ain't selling, i'm the best sellers?
I'll go boss, and you go slave, wassup my n***a?

[Chorus x2]
Hey, you're fucking lame, your stupid game
Won't let 'em forget my, my name
HTR or CHARLEMAGNE

[VERSE 2]
I only smoke n***as, but nah they ain't jewish
And no they ain't ready, used to give 'em calm ish
Fuck off i'm that new ish, fuck off im the truth, bitch (bitch)
Fuck off I'm that new ish (bitch)
Why you going hard, when your shit is fuckin whack?
I'm more chilly chill, but my barz fuckin platinum?
You bum n***a thought he could compete with the rap prince?
I ain't even wanna diss him, but he being whack since?
I'm the best motherfucker what you complain about
He can't do what the fuck I do, I see him wishing it bad
When that album gone drop, and it won't be the last
I'll got those checks on my bag
But they'll gotta check on their back!
[Chorus x3]
Hey, you're fucking lame, your stupid game
Won't let 'em forget my, my name
HTR or CHARLEMAGNE