Story behind the song
Produced by OP Beats
Lyrics
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this a diss to that b*** TK
lyrically he ain't anything that can compete mayne
feast on his weak brain, spear him wit heatwaves,
kids droppin more sh** outta his mouth than anal seepage
muhfukka ain't got sh** on me
danglin more fake crap than an ear wit clip-on rings
i'm spittin out flames, burnin ain't even hype it
i don't even needa be full tanked to drop 'em, i'll drive it hybrid
silenced, he gotta mic in grasp but no breathes left
a retard, slow ass, like tha kind the feds catch
in the presence of the best, not even a sprinter could catch this
drivin splinters to ya neck and fixin it back for a headrest
death threat rhyme schemes, finesse in the mind, see
i'm the best that u'll try beating with plenty of rhymez,
believing u can best wit me wit lines, please,
i'm exceptionally tight like feet on Shaq tryna ride on size three Nikes.
i'm blastin back TK wit no problem,
crosshairs to his pupils, won't see straight after i pop 'em.
shotgun cockin on the right side of tha cockpit.
leave only air in the plane where his brain was, i bombed it .....
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