Here are the lyrics:

Hook: 2x

When you ain't shit, cat's all positive
Then you get big, cats turn bitch
Flip the page of the script, go from
Man, you can make, to damn you a fake (kid)

Verse 1

The war is in the makin, four-score and seven years ago
I been ignored since a baby...
Now my horn steady blazing...I know you hear me baby
You can't afford to pay me...
Attention..went from Ford to Mercedes, Dodge to Bentley
Y'all resent me...poor babies
Snot tissues do not piss Q off
Gossip dudes is like bitches talk...
Sure you can hate me...be sure you can take me
I read Art of War before the morning daily
Paper...I'm not basic
I'm just basically the court appointed liaison
Game on...phase one
Take ya face paint da walls...they say God saves ya
What doesn't kill you will make me try hard-er to kill you
until you fade like crayons
Red, blue, green...
Instead, you, confuse me
With a comforter and a pillow
I'm not soft bitch...I'm quite ill tho
I'm not the off switch, my light still glow
I'm like an ostrich in a guillotine
You chop some neck I got a whole lot left
I can eat your team like a whole box of chex
Easily digestible...
A lil healthy too, they say hate like grapes
Over time they turn to raisons...
They wither up, become a taste I savor
No more playin' favorites...if you a snake
I take your venom and save it
For the next set of fangs that bit him
I take your hate and make anti-venom


Verse 2


I'm too hard to contemplate, the fake ones shake em up
Hard like bottle spray...don't bother callin' all the hate
Cuz I ain't got that many minutes, many men are mini-midgets
Smaller than a fuckin' dwarf, penny clinchin'...I'm on a
Vengeance...da boy is vicious, viscous like I'm thick pus
I move slow but I'm still movin'...Mister, abysmal
I Been smoked dem lentils...wut you see is a remnant
Of dey ghost cuz dey so pitiful, little beans....I'm bigger O
Belittle me, I figure you for bow to my arrow...
Tryna blow me out like I'm air...yo, yo error
Was holdin' on to silly notion, that I was cynical
Thought you cud present a dick and tell me it was popsicle
You sloppy bitch....mentally, I'm megaphone, your hands cup
Tryna stand up, fuck ya fans and your petty prose
Your opinion is like mornin' sickness
The more I feel it, the more I abhor your existence