This is a song about "Drop the mic"

Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box

The mic is now in my palms would you like me to drop bombs

Everything freezes, soon as i touch the mic

Just like a cannon from the teen in nick

Streets bad, tyga ill, drake magic

I'm back with the mother-fucking mic.

Its bf king on the mic,

But they say we ain't big

At the top/. make it drop,/

Just searching for the perfect shot

Nigga, this nigga's forehead is so fuckin' big

When i'm the master of events n' master the mic

So drop the slam and lets get sick

Love and peace but killin the mic

My audience with ever rhyme. drop the mic and silence calls out the dime,

Beetle the skin on my female that's word to cee-lo she fine