This is a song about "Fake bars"

When bret hart meet brett farve

I be spittin the bars,

Its fictional just like your rap career, fake.

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

A hell of motherfucking road blocks

But i got so many bars

I’m letting all my niggas grab a plate

All you niggas dead , dead fake

You cant even handle 2 bars

And mine somewhere bout mars

Maybe tomorrow i won't have to fake

Our vision never changed, we self made

I feel good, i look great

Ur love was always fake

All dem niggas gonna hate

Ur love was always fake