What them tippers don't see
Hold up i'm your baby.
No famous name vouch and i'm still the shit
Forever lost in your hypnotic
God damn i'm starvin' and i just ate
Your raps are counterfeit, mine are homemade
Looking at the sky, hoping a light would shine
It's ironic, your eyes need more improvement than mine
These emerald evergreens in your eyes reflect mine
I shoot you and kill ya homie, with the same damn nine
You deal with your life and i'll deal with mine
Promise me you won't step out of line
Yo check this outi'mma tell you like this
Your bars aint equal to what #mine #is
{*both*} but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her
Your raps stink. mine are totally better.
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