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Lyrics
This ain’t baseball bro! It’s one strike and you’re out.
Weren’t you ever told not to stick the mic in your mouth?
The fun has just begun so go and plug in your night-light
cuz son, you’ll just get one glimpse of my gun then it’s night-night!
I’ll use the same finger I used to delete
all the useless critiques made by you and your peeps.
I refuse to be beat, so get used to “da feet”,
like your shoes, then we’ll meet around noon in the street
Thus I take another emcee to the floor with two shots.
You ain’t ill just because you can’t afford your flu shots.
You think your lyrics are as hardcore as tupac’s
I hate to break it to you, but they’re more like tube-socks.
For example, you’ll get trampled cause I’m causing a riot.
Cook your fries like your rhymes and you’d put your boss on a diet,
because when it comes to wackness, it’d be false to deny it:
You’re not only the president, but you’re also a client.
And you’ve done lost to a giant. Fee-fi-fo-fum!
I believe I smell the blood of a feline scrotum.
You name it, Drake’ll break it: face, feet, thigh, throat, thumb.
In the meantime, wonder where I received my flow from?
Ain’t no tellin, Oh and by the way, your mother called.
She said you couldn’t flow if you were raised by waterfalls.
I’ve knocked down all your pins and you’re too phazed to stutter cause
if life’s a game of bowling, all your days are gutter-balls.
If you lucked up and I used a mucked up noose
That’s the only way you’d survive, but you’d be roughed up, bruised.
So get used to tough luck, once I upchuck nukes,
Cuz you could only ‘touch Drake’ when playin duck duck goose.
