Its 420 & I'm lookin asiatic, you must high cause you didn't rhyme mathematics
Bringin static that you can't afford, leaving ya words hangin same way I
do emcees with this mic cord
Hordes of you fake rappers ain't livin the life, frontin like you hard but don't know the meaning of strife
Or what a dope line looks or sounds like, pedaling to get nowhere like a stationary bike
You a puppy, u dont have the teeth to bite, you could be Tiger Woods and still not swing right
I bang tight like the head of a drum, your kiddie raps be suckin on dum-dums
Don't make me pop ya lollys, leave you in trouble like Timmy hollering for your collie
But that's the folley of that TV image, no one to save you, not even popeye with his spinach
I go rounds in three minutes, you MayWeather the storm to avoid your fate
but I'm the champ when battlin you Cruiserweights
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