You ain't fucking no bodies
Bitch, you ain't stacking no paper, hoe
You rapping and talking 'bout this and that but got nun ta sho
You broke ass fiend with some dead ass dreams
I'm living up all of the shit I say but you just making believe
And you ain't fucking no bodies
Bitch, you ain't stacking no paper, hoe
You rapping and talking 'bout this and that but got nun ta sho
You broke ass fiend with some dead ass dreams
I'm living up all of the shit I say but you just making believe
All your fake designer clothing
Bitch, it ain't worth a dime
And well I'm mad that you can't open your mouth without telling a lie
Unless you 'bout to put a bigger rapper dick inside
And go to work until they say you might get signed
And I won't say your name
Cause then maybe your fifty-seven plays
Now we will track you down and might jump to fifty
Eight
And I can't give another rapper clout
No, no I can't
Unless it be Schema the posse the clique and I'm hoping that I claim
I can't believe that I am even giving you sixteen
I'm throwing a dog a bone cause I have some extra time free
You know, free?
F-R-double E like your Honda Accord
That the only type of rent your fake ass can afford
So keep on paying motherfuckers
So you can open up shows for one hit wonders
Why the fuck you doing this anymore?
Hoe, just quit while you not ahead
Nobody would even notice
It's coming up on the day you gon get exposed
You bogus (hocus pocus)
