This is a song about "Your mine"

And your bitch is the type of bitch who really wanna lose

Punctured your lyrics with mine and left you a bruise

And on skype bet you say "le where my flight at?", if i decline

Or you could come a little closer, put your hand in mine

Chrome lips on the forgi's damn near swallowing the street

Let me have it your rhymes are mine from last week

On the phone, cooking dope, at the same damn time

It's ironic, your eyes need more improvement than mine

Your lyrics suck, while mine are so addicting you'll need syringes.

Each day it gets more realer, orangutan's bang like gorillas

Your raps are counterfeit, mine are homemade

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

Then it's plain as day to say that your place and mine are basically night and day

But, tomorrow's uncertainty promotes the urgency in this shit i'mma say

In a turtle neck, thermal jeans, spit purple wine

I wine and dine with sparkling mine, disconnect your spine,