You can't escape my lyrical state of mind got no time to debate
Like a model lookin at her chest you wont confess that you fake
Im straight ill to the core you get knocked to the floor when I drop
You got somthin missin in ya dissin like a doughnut without a cop
You need to stop writin, every verse is a curse to any an all authentic
Jus ten minutes of my time drunk would send this chump to the clinic
I took a minute to look at ya report it seems your sort of into the three G's
Your nineteen an a hustler "wanabe" to me you just a weak ass buster in 3D
I know ya gonna wanna mimic what I spoke cause well your a joke
You could be up in the joint with me, but still not ever seein a toke