These wannabe gangsters, puffin' weed,
Y'all fucking clowns elevating status, but you ain't achieved a thing.
Sold records that wouldn't even hit an M.

Your agenda, B, after I, and A, S,
Always rapping 'bout money, power, and fame,
Pushing the same tired game, it's all the same.

Now speaking of problems, you dare step on my radar, and i wouldn't take me second to obliterate something you work off,
I hate, I despise your very presence makes wanna choke,
Your my baby, I saw you till you grow up, when I first take you on your first step, now you chasing the evil of this world;
This, THIS! This the treatment you deserve, what you give is what you receive, and actions must have consequence, and now that you burn in the hell you created.

I never wanted beef, but I'm trying not to snap,
Break you in half, till your bones collapse.
I wanna decimate the last piece of you that remains,
'Cause the thing I hate most is being you, feeling the same.

We don't belong in the same category,
You a fraud, while I stand with the real story.

Let me tell you something,
In me I have greatness, Never need a Diddy,
One day I hope I would be a star that would give smiles to millions of kids,
Inspire them to become more than just a name,
I won't end up in a cell, playing the blues on a harmonica,
I'll be out here, building legacies, not running from karma.

This is the constant cycle of hatred, the consumption of lust, is what embodies sin, and that sin when grown up becomes death.

I contemplate with my existence, two souls to create god, the very goddess of what you born, the innovate language of a pacifist, to clean the filth of this world is to me to exterminate the evil.

I'm the balance of the cosmos, I'm the omega, Every dicks wanna hold a candle, if you can handle this heat better not feel conflicted. I no worship no devil, Christian values is what I uphold, but is it a sin for me to slay something, for me to kill a war criminal, is for me to be heroic, is for me also to be known, as a lyrical, the pinnacle of being in a stage of cinnamon rolls dipped in my puddle of clusters guns on fire, it might not make sense for you, but in my world i worship and follow my own morals, I wield a sword of tongue to slay the evil, Nature psuedoceols of envy,
For the heart is the mind of the body,
The second command of God's own dictionary,
These words spill like a parasitical pharmacy,
Hours of needs truth, nobody told me.

Realization is that talent is not a stone or maternal things you can bought or picked, it was given by a man in the heavens, the kings of kings have given the teeth of tyrant to chew the last remaining crumbs of pestilence.