This is a song about "Vocal"

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

And rip out your vocal cords, and then disconnect your spinal cords,

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

One day i'll earn my recognition, spit till my vocal cords are missing

Raps from my golden dome, hear it in vocal tones,

Instead they talking bout some thunderstorm, cyclones

You know your son a asshole, but i hope you got those stacks though

That makes y'all target practice for their vocal automatics so

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

Spittin the vocal emission, with a musical transmission

We skip right to fucking, they call you to do lunch

Why i am so angry when i express vocal knowledge?

They rip their vocal chords ends just to make us listen them

Begin to make me feel like a little kid again