This is a song about "Great killing of tha fakes"

One hit wonders who would of preferred to be great

I'm spittin hungry like ain't shit up on my dinner plate

You fakes aint nothin but a pile of shit

So i'mma talk about a little bit of that

Worldwide, but i got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades

To be the best among and rise above the rest of these phony fakes

Face tha lyrical rythm of this lick i'm throwin' a

Our history that they stole, africa

Sublime player of hearts to tha beat

But hey yo look, money from across the street

But everybody’s self-made carved their own names

He takes no responsibility and fakes

I fucks with her the long way she don't really wanna' stay

This ain't a phase, i'm playing great, killing? well today's the day/