uh...aiyo
Where my mothafuckin' niggas at?

It's on me...


1st off,

Y'all fakes gravitate to hate like overweight kids to cake...
You impatient cats can't even wait for my shit to bake...
Before you're stuffin' your face, enough of this hate, but wait...
Bitches jealous like Hype's the prom and I got the hottest date...
I'd hate to suffocate your face, y'all change up from green to blue...
Within' me is truth, and the clue is that y'all envy Tha Q...
And I got the cue to bring plenty of proof, like a Buick...
This be the Century of Q, and there's nothin' else to it...
That nigga blew it when he gave himself top honors, top daps...
And had the audacity to rank my hot topics far back...
Nigga pardon, but do you drop OMs and hot tracks like hot wax...
Poems to show your 'motions, deep notions nigga, top that...
I've been faithful to illness like I'm hitched to it, my wife...
A fixture amid the best shit, when u look up, the Hype's light...
Perhaps life's been slightly blight to you light jokes, there again...
Biters, chubby kids and bitches describe Highly Arrogant...
I'll juxtapose your flows against mine, there again, no rivals...
So quell the yik yak or I will strike a chord in your spinals...
And Akira can suck my dick you faggot bitch, still grabbin'...
My best lines, you're not abreast of me, your tits are just saggin'...
Ur a sad kid with no life on the net, not yet aware of life yet...
You get no play, think Samatha with a 'stache, you look like that...
Fuck you wack bitch, I don't need to be a blunt head to bump heads
To write inspired on a bunkbed, kid who you supposed to know...
You need blunt smoke to flow, at home like "Is lunch on the stove"?...
Bum straight stuntin' talkin' thug shit you buggin, you're a soft tone...
A soft touch who don't get off much, livin' with moms at home...
Childish niggas...