This is a song about "How lame pop songs are"

Trying to shake, the crates and fakes and snakes

Rain from my game reign, all i see are lame names,

Bro you are a lame ass faggot, stop posting peoples names

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

I've gone insane have a half a brain my raps are awesome yours are lame

My pistols represent mebust until my rounds emptyback for the street fame

Gangsters are pussies and thugs are lame

I say i’m wrong, you say come again

Hello challenger how are you doing,

Tryin’ to bag a brother with a super bowl ring

I don't know how to make songs like that

Nigga ain't nothing sweet like a kool aid pack

Let you niggas know milita my gang, mcn if you was thinkin’ it’s a game

The radio is lame, and the record labels are to blame, they just want fame

Here is how i write my songs, start with 'cid, coke, and onyx,

But love my music, say i do nothing but hits