That boy tate been known to kick kings off they thrones
Givin niggas a reason to dial nine eleven in they phones
So step back jack or feel yo whole dome crack
Fist and foreheads always greet with a smack

Only the cold hard truth spills from these lips
Never will you hear me pop that stank bullshit
And i gots no love for these hardcore net thugs
Claimin this claimin that when you feeble like bugs

Tate got the remedy and no its not hennessy
Its a bullet of words, for each one of my enemies
And if you on my shitlist, i'm fillin you up
Make you runneth over, like a god touched cup

Stay mad, i'll get glad just like the tubiwear
Erase yo existence, your location is nowhere
Would tell you to elevate, but thats as good as it gets
Face it dawg, your constant self-glory is just illegit