I'm a Femcee, I ride to my mail box in a limozine.
I get easily sick of my kitchen-maid's quezine.
What you got, is exactly of 'NOT.'
Girl's like me aren't shipped, nor bought,
by your words, or your fake diamonds in your mouth,
My words will slam you so hard, those glass front teeth will shatter,
your lip will be 'fatter.'
Now that's what I call a 'roll-out.'

They say third time's the charm, don't mean to be rude, wait I do.
For trash like that. [I don't give a Fuke] And that's the truth.
You may poke all your dimes, till they hit mars, and enough get your niccas bailed.
But I use twenties, to whype my arse, and 50's to do my nails.

I just now started poonk,
Think it's the end?
Femcies can be like guys, mean and crude,
but this is my own trend.
My lerics goin, and flowin' till I hit your 'nail'.
My lerics for you speaking like Steve from dell,
as I pull this one up my sleeve,
'Dude, your lyrics are going to hell!."
That's what I've just said, and thats what the people will tell.