Nick Fletcher whored you dawg, you'll only get ripped if you step up
Cause that was your best line & the punch was less of a diss than the set up
Shame about your old man, but when danger was near he couldn't hide
But just think...
...He was killed above the same sewers where your fucking career resides
I love Christmas time, Santa brings gifts from Seville to Texas
And your house is full of such a festive spirit it's like your paps was killed on Xmas
I'm drunk as fuck kid, you can smell the vodka on my breath
Cause I'm overcome by lethal shots like I was reanacting your brothers death
I’ll hit your head for a home run to smash up your face & spoil it
But the last time you hit some strong runs you fucking blocked up your toilet
It's pathetic, you're so poor and hungry it’s almost painful to feel
& I'd dish out the dirt on you but you'd be fucking grateful for the meal
You're on a tightrope between life and death & ya got nothin to gloat on
Cause you've always walked a fine line... but you've never actually wrote one
I don't wanna help you elevate, your ache and lumps are a disgace
Cause you've already got assist.... right in the middle of your fucking face