Who the fuck is a cryptic, this guy's feminine as bright-lipstick/
I kick-his-ass/ So doctors stitch-a-mask on him like Ipkiss/
Sick of bitches-like-you, my flows'll clog & cardiac arrest-you/
For snitchin-by-two, you should've spilled out of test-tubes/
Too dumb to see con-artists wit green, buck-you-in-the-face/
Your skills-reachin high? He still-dreamin, a fuckin-disgrace/
Talking about chicks? It's my dick, your bitch greatly-honors, bastard/
The only pussy he fucked in Detroit, asks for eighty dollars after/
In ya hometown, ya better off dead, the way hoods-extends-proof/
I pay-my-respects, but really feel like, it should-have-been-you/