Im on top of the charts, you arent around
And I know that chest aint holdin ya down
So your smart and read books, equipped with good looks
Sad to say broads like you dont even make good cooks
So youve got twenty losses what would you do for twenty-one
Why dont you tell em about the pm, asking if you could rent me hun
Im a teen, human being, ripping machine
And it seems, youll be seeing, this first handed scheme
My rhymes are endless, youd say i have a miriad
The only thing you have consistent is your period
Youll be tryin to hop on my dick, cause you know im stayin
I wouldnt call you sister, if our last names were wayans
She says shes so nice, why she still aint got a break
Is a bigger question than, is britneys tits fake?