I don’t demolish yall
rappers cuz I doubt yall bread
But I can’t go
back to Brooklyn without yall heads
Run up on
me yall better re-route yall legs
How ma
ny mouths yall fed
These nikkas be
taking food off your plate but you claim you blast your glock
I aint passing nobody my
plate I’ll pass a pot
They telling you who to
feed taking half off top
nikkas
be running your plate like a traffic cop
Rappers be getting leaned on when
they getting rap dough
Tryna lean on me they see I got a cash flow
Wanna lean on me but when
I let that Mac blow
I bet you
it make em lean back like fat Joe
I
split his arms but his other hand a wrap
Now every time he come to a show the mothafukka can’t clap
How you bag up a ounce and bring one gram back
Cant cut a damn crack
I hate when 2 of my mans get into it, I cant fukking stand that
I aint no referee understand that
papoose was a monster back then