His flow made in Smithfield, & it still ain't packin the raw/
Sick of 2pac groupies, mad I'm not unstrappin his bra/
This sissy's heart is pocket lint, so why be actin so hard/
Make ya maine focus to home, runnin back to ya MA/
Your punch's lack braun, no 1 listens to ya anecdotes/
Runnin cuz death comin for you, thru cannon smoke/
His reputation's a brain malfunction, lots of sell defects
Only reason he holds juice, is mom's welfare checks/
Leave ya like castellano, as forensic units touch chalk/
607 posts to your profile, over half of them just talk/