This is a song about "Tennis players"

Thinking about who the fuck your nigga gone serve

Call 'em dumb players who are not sprayers

Scholars and scientists now conceive that africa is the first place of mankind

I get gritty on wax like record players- i'm the slayer of that kind

I welcome with my handsand the red sun sinks at last

And in my mind's eye i see this place, the players go in fast

Bomaye, killa cam, my lord

Sup players, thanks for all the support,

Throw me to the damn wall like tennis ball still i'll bounce back

That i never had, but wrote it in my raps to make you mad

Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years

To maintain we must gain the trust of the game players,

It's enough to make you crazy, it's fuckin with my domeya only live once on this earth

So you drop a diss on a disk that you expect people to slip into their cd players

You fronting niggas hate to meet up withbut my crew holdin' duffle bags bitches

Back like dennis the menace, playin lyrical tennis in this endless rhythmical diss