Lyrics
Tek I remember A year back when we battled. When I hear that
I like how could This cat with his rich raps be whick whack
Snip that chop it up use it as one of your 45 samples
Not to hate on your crew but the whole shit is in shambles
You do your best to beef over the internet thrownin burns like cigarrettes
Not realizing that real hip hop is about how you get it wet
Not heads son…well heads just not dead ones
If you really had that money on your myspace then you’re blessed son
Weapons I got…a pen and a pad
I know you think I’m dead and I’m sad but I’m setting this fag
In flames not playing games for promotional fame
I’m roastin’ this lame like he’s been toasted and played
But he has apparently he got a couple radio spins
Well I’m hatin’ your wins and breaking you with
Real shit breaking your lips like I was pacing four fifths
Of the night away on the top of your face
Learn your place or get stomped into pavement