Untitled Song

(Verse 1)

This bitch ain't shit, not a whisper, not a mention,

Tried to play foul, now you sittin' on the benches.

Talkin’ out ya neck, now your bridges burnin’ endless,

Fake-ass stories, only fiction gets attention.

You a fraud a fluke a joke a gimmick,

Pockets on E but you smoke like a chemist.

Mind full of vapor, your soul got no image,

No drive, no mileage, just ghost in the Civic.

I put a hole in your plot, that’s a storyline leak,

Turn your arc to a dot, now your story line weak.

You was pushing that gas, now your glory ride bleak,

Now your name in the dirt like a coroner sheet.

Bitch, the clout that you chase is a hole in the street.

I ain't takin' no losses, I ain't sparin' no beef,

I ain't dappin' no hands, I ain't sharin' no seats,

I ain't hear no receipts, so who care what you tweet?

Now your lies like your lungs, no air when you speak.

Bitch, you ran outta breath, now you buried six feet.

That’s karma, bitch, hope you like the view.

Rumors ain’t stick, but they stuck to you.

You the punchline of the joke, not the one that threw.

Tried to air me out, now the air’s on you.