I’ve got prestine sick sixteens..
You’ve got a limp dick and two beans in skinny jeans

I’m a) freak in the back seat, when eating a fat beat
Stealing the vaccine with a pistol to the driver
Of this speeding taxi while you’re thinking I’m your rival
But upon arrival you might find out I’m your idol
My raps fuckin’ vital, dope cats the title
All your mags bridal, bitch here’s some Midol
I don’t want to catch stupid man you better wipe the mic off
Matter fact Lysol, wait by the phone
Cause nobody might call, or hop up in the side car
So I can drive your side into a fucking firewall
And delete your code when you caught up in the internet
You couldn’t be dope if you were green in a cigarette
Confused as an atheist in a sinigog
Screaming “I’m a sinner god” jerking of Nick Minaj
Cause the image wicked hot, but here mission it is not
… I invision it different mix it with a bit of Pac
And I sizzle a little isn’t I entitled to rock
Chris could pebble this with a flint stone
Mis-thrown ain’t a damn game for this throne
Beat you in your home, like the hawks did Boston
Bloody up your streets like I’m running a marathon then

Whoa whoa whoa

My bad, all I meant to say was
You couldn’t spit sick enough to infect and infant
Plus you go about as hard as a limp dick
I’ve got a hatchet that’ll pop your collar higher than a
Pompous abrocrombie fella, yeah I’ll pull your number
Like a DMV tella, kicking in your door
Hella late for you rent, get bent backwards
This the revenge of the post pot smoking snackers
Slashing the traps of the slackers, leaving
Traps that’ll snatch all the trackers
Whiney little copy cat bastards…
But I ain’t gotta worry, cause now a days
It’s only cool to be a black nerd or an actor
Lying bout your stature and grade point average
To make it as a mainstream rapper
But I’ll drag him with a car attached by his two chains
I’ma shoot brains if you rapping like a zombie
Hear to break backs where spine attach…like a
Loose Bane would do to Bruce Wayne kick fire
Fuck it I’m Lu Kang, I’ma have to laugh if that’s
Your juice game, drag your mother through a puddle
Of our spewed brain, quit acting like you wouldn’t do the
Same if you’re insane or as fly as me…
You’re grounded as a train, or a kid in 5th grade
Lick a switch blade, I’ll let my split tounge
Make 2 girlfriends cum your current and ex one
They’ll be bumping to this, while I’m fucking the next one
We ain’t use protect-tion so that kid that you’re supporting
Basically your step son… got my build
…And my rap skills, that’s why he’s better than you
And shits his pants still, I’m packing a land fill
Full of fake fans to kill, and I don’t plan on stoppin
If the Hiphop is dead, then I’m grave robbin’
If you play this, head stay noddin’
If it’s not you’re the product of an over priced product
And the segregated fire burns using you as fodder
…I’m the product of an over night prophet I’ma say
What I gotta say…cause you ain’t sayin nada

I’ve got prestine sick sixteens..
You’ve got a limp dick and two beans in skinny jeans
More so metaphorically than physically
It’s an attitude that means you don’t mean shit to me
So go on, I want you the fuck out of my space
Raps are bullshit you’re a damn disgrace
But I don’t think you’re stupid I just think you’re misplaced
No I do think your stupid look at this fuckers face