This is a song about "Copy"

The human racist, motha fucka probably copy and paste.

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

With your flashlight, tell me what do you see

When i write down lyrics all they do is copy,

We get the bread and the crumbs, young money

So copy me like piracy,

Copy write my name, didn't even put citations

Bout some, but never put out the stout guns

I told her this here's overrated but i love your city baby

They either compliment me but speaking a rampage some copy me

To be rich like a king, and live my life, trouble free

I crave victory, but i don't copy a rapper's history,

In the face of adversity, i prepared a verse to see

Every copy thinks he's almost fucking godly

You aint fuckin dope your just a copy paste editor

I sell hot peas and butter, don't want to see you suffer