You named yourself Nicki Lewinsky, the mind of a rookie
Cause you was sucking his dikk and now he tired of your nookie
You claimed you never fukked Drake, now that's where you took me
You fukked the whole Empire, who you're trying to be, Cookie?
Boogie Down Bronx, I come out of the Boogie
To let you know real bytches never lie on their p*ssy
And stop talking numbers, you signed a 360 deal
Through Young Money, through Cash Money, through Republic
Which means your money go through five nikkas before you touch it
Any videos, promotions come out of your budget
Endorsements, tour and merchandise, they finger-fukk it
You make like 35 cents off of each ducat
I own my masters, bytch, independent
So for every sale I do, you gotta do like ten
Stop comparing yourself to Jay, you not like him
You a motherfukking worker, not a boss like Rem
You're done, them pop chicks ain't get the news yet
bytch, I pop chicks, yeah and I'm the new vet
I kill rappers, and you good as dead, bytch
Talking shyt about me to a deaf bytch
And usually I have sympathy for the impaired
But not when you hard of hearing from untreated gonorrhea
But you point your fingers at me?
I’m the bad girl when she the one out here misleading the black girls?
All these fake asses influenced by that girl
Dying from botched surgeries, what a sad world
But before the butt job, you was a Spongebob
Sucking cock for records, captain of the cum squad
I was
til I heard this part.