» highest in charts:   # 11867   (1,478,999 songs currently listed in HipHop)
» highest in sub-genre:   # 7412   (824,397 songs currently listed in HipHop > Hip Hop General)

it's just me spittin' bars. no hook or nothing like that. just ripping up a raw ass beat.

Beef? We kow you don't want more
Cuz you'll get your ass clapped like people cheering for an encore
I drop like birds shitting on a Contour
Bitches throw they panties when I'm spitting on tour
I'm hot, my name's spreading through each state
I'm the reason why your album missed its release date
I don't rap about guns but I got one
Like a hooker sucking dick I always get the job done
Strangers in my hood gon' need the right shoes on
Cuz there's gon' be lots of running unless they want a tomb stone
You fools' gone, my niggas did three bids
Expose you for a fag and flip like Jaheim did
Don't play with kids, n*** I mean biz
I got your hoe pussy feeling like she had three kids
And that's what's up, Miami in the back of us
I'm sipping henny while I watch your bi*** back it up
The rims got my Lincoln looking like a monster truck
While your bullshit resembling a tonka truck

These bi***es nowadays, these hoes is crazy
Beyonce was independant now shes with Jay-Z
That independence made you think no man can get get her
It's proof that money control a bi*** like transmitters
Talking shit, only the foolish test me
You ain't never gon' be nothing but a bullshit netcee
Nobody believe you when you be talking tough
Cuz we know you get slapped more times than hockey pucks
Like a kid with chicken pox I cannot be touched
And there's no one in this industry that you could ever trust
You got a problem then tell me what you wanna say
I'll have you on your knees begging for mercy like it's judgement day
The mood I'm in, I just don't give a f*** today
I never trick, you won't ever see me give my bucks away
But I pimp, I'ma make some ho give up her pay
And I got heat to make the haters run the other way
I shank emcees, you fake like a breast increase
The only burner you pack records blank cd's
I'ma hungry beast rapping for a pile of green
Eating emcees like I was born with Jefferey Dahmers' genes
I rep the hardest
F*** what you think, I'm the best regardless
No one's brave enough to test this recording artist
They as chicken as the kind that comes from Boston Market
You might as well get your garbage music off the market
This sh*** I'm talking, is just the icing on the cake
Don't let your niggas gas you up like a stomach ache
Cuz we both know that life is the price you don't wanna pay
I ain't a gangsta, but mistake me for a chump
Like a closet full of high heels I pack a lot of pumps
I'm amazed at you punks, everyday you niggas front
Acting hard when we know you softer than Trina's rump
I'm snatching females like items off shelves on sale at retails
On they knees to get my head waxed and detailed
Then I relax and eat well
While you player haters beat your meat well
Hallow tip shells won't help you breathe well
See you in hell, in my hood my name ring bells
You been falling off while everyday my style excels
Doom is the word your career spells