Boy look here…
Ya’ll act like babies yet you don’t own a crib
A jeans size doesn’t mean you have a fo’ fo’ on ya hip
Ya’ll don’t have a visa yet you seem to trip
Pierced comics doesn’t mean you have hoes on a strip
So was sup with these foes thinking they the shit?
It’s wanabee’s like these that keep on bugging
Can’t sting, claim to be shaped hard yet they stuck in
A mode resembling a weak heart call it clubbing
Me and hip hop are that close it seems like we hugging
So open minded or not I always stay thugging
Stop fucking ‘round ‘cause ya’ll know I’ll kill ya
They got it backwards like Lets B N I call ‘em Tila Tequila
For real ya couldn’t leave me beat if you were J Dilla
I'm a General no need for that Scylla, and
My flow will leave ‘em hooked like a hexed instrument
Hip Hop can count on me like Texas instruments
Or on some Casio shit, try to tempt me
And I’ll leave you riding ‘til death with out a chassis
Hip Hop on some Casie shit half of ya’ll don’t belong here
Begging for an offspring ‘cause you in need of air
Is it heat like a match or just feeless like Claire?
Neither the first or the latter ‘cause you rolling of the stairs
There, I putt you off smoked ya without the pot
Black rocks can't emit heat without help so your far from hot
No game so drop the cartridge no need for dots
Thats how Zu keystyles.