This is a song about "What you spittin"

From where they take them old beats and turn em into news

You asshole rappers spittin shit in the booth

Spittin my raps at you faster than a stampede,

Long as i can feel my heart tap like happy feet

You spit that end rhyme trash i'm spittin syllables two or three

To be rich like a king, and live my life, trouble free

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Spittin heat like the toaster cookin you pop tarts

Spittin you out like some low-caloric tea i hated

That i'mma pay for with dimes, nickels and quarters and shit