phill how you gone start a rap... complimentin my style...
ya jabs wouldnt phase me... id takem n smile
while you get hit up...n im talkin bout pistol whiped child...
i spit vile lyrics... ya i know that im sick.....
and i aint my biggest fan... the title goes to ya bitch..
oh shit... who you thought you was fuckin wit son...
my rhymes beat in side ya mind...like a fuckin snare drum..
ya name benjimins.. but you aint got no 100 dollar bills guy..
shoulda named yaself washington... cuz he never told a lie...
im one of the baddest... deadly aim wit a ratchet
you tryn text battles but ya rhymes just cant hack it...
so stop droppin hear killa... n i aint the best....
but im the only one.. with enough balls to put ya to rest