This is a song about "No skill"

Get my fill on with this grandmother named jill

See that's what we genius rappers call skill,

An adrenaline junkie amazed by my skill

Or smoke some purp take a percocet and xanax and chill

Y'all can't stand up on my level, can't reach my lyrical skill,

Mass appeal,and this bag i hit got me alaskan chill

No money, little bit of chance, skill, and i was out sold,

Righteously living, i know all my verses be cold

To productively go slow to show ,my truest skill,

Dope enough to snort crack and sit the fuck still

You say i got no skill?

Scoop pills, 5 g's on a phone bill

That's aids to the ill

Skill to skill, i kill to kill

That manifest from skill

As i light one for ill will