This is a song about "Raps take no skill"

But its no use, as your raps reduce, and as mine begin to reproduce.

I'm just trying to paint that picture, when i'm rhyming up in this booth

I ain't used to it, she got that hot love

I don't take shit i make raps and spit them heinous

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

Seven years old in my heart, so i'm stayin' gold

It's ill-advised giving hours to another broad

Bitch take back your raps before i eat you like poppycock

You fool think you're knack, bitch you rack raps ,you're fag,take you sack, things,

Until then, my feet planted on the ground, shadowboxing my conscience

You say i got no skill?

Lady at the frank stand will