This is a song about "Spitting lines"

All the time with this glock of mines

Sethered your spine, your movement lines

Problem is i shine like two mics under heavy strobe lights

I'm spitting kinds of wicked rhymes, know i've got the sickest lines,

Watching for hollow-tip shots

Real g when i'm spitting bars

Threw 70 bands, bet 50 stacks, oh fuckin well

You can't touch these lines i'm spitting them parallel.

Mic in my handi run like marion barberyou haters on the sidelines

Blow up by tonight. but who am i? still running round spitting all these lame lines.

Rollin' down the four o five

When spitting all of these rhymes

Best believe i stay spitting

Hoping that he's listening