1 verse I settle the score You mad cause you wack and my rap is better than yours I’m seeing light from a different angle See a bitch gonna be a bitch, you can’t turn a pigeon to an angel My dogs with the leash snap You put in work, brand new shirts and jeans from the G-packs And all of us is trying to eat If it ain’t about cheddar or something better leave a message behind the beep None of y’all clowns can test I’ll bet you think a few hot singles means album success I got a million ways to kill a verse And the drama gets deep, f**k beef, I got a billion ways to fill a hearse Who the f**k you know better than Qualm? Say you want beef but in the streets you wouldn’t get on the song My advice to you is get in the crowd So when I spit a sixteen, you duck in the middle and crouch
[Chorus]
Yo it’s game time, no competition when we kick it But they hate my composition full of lyrics Cause they ain’t fly, they just some m***********g pigeons So I aim high until ain’t nothing fucking living
Yo it’s game time, no competition when we kick it But they hate my composition full of lyrics Cause they ain’t fly, they just some m***********g pigeons So I aim high until ain’t nothing fucking living
[Verse 2]
We back at it with the Fist part 2, The Hit Squad Crew Yo, hold up, wait, you marketed who? All I hear is garbage, record labels sodomizing artists And you starving m**********r know your place in the market Monopolize the target, hip hop repping the Snowgoons The underground’s huge yo, don’t tell me there ain’t no room For me to make loot, make room or move back Before we come out the back we’re with bats ready to bruise cats Swing batter, and homie we taking out heads You heard what I said, you best believe you breaking bread Give me that, don’t be hard, don’t force hands This is for my fan repping in Greece and Deutschland Swiss too, got goons around the world ready to bust in Your bitch crew homie they even rep me out in Russia What you wanna brew? I don’t care if I offend you I say what I want, if you don’t like it do what you do pussy
[Chorus]
Yo it’s game time, no competition when we kick it But they hate my composition full of lyrics Cause they ain’t fly, they just some m***********g pigeons So I aim high until ain’t nothing fucking living
Yo it’s game time, no competition when we kick it But they hate my composition full of lyrics Cause they ain’t fly, they just some m***********g pigeons So I aim high until ain’t nothing fucking living
[Verse 3]
There’s a war going on outside you can’t run from it You’d better confront it before them things are coming Hit you in your head and stomach, leave you bleeding f**k it We dumb out in the streets, cousin all of a sudden I got a ? bastard, go to hell in a handbasket while I focus the madness Born disaster with my hand on the ratchet Close your casket, leave your skull bruised and bashed in Forty ouncer we guzzling just to drown the pain With nothing to lose man, you could lose your brain Who’s to say we’re sane or what’s insane Against the grain, blood pour out my veins No competition for lames we throw bread And we ain’t the same, hockey mask and a gauge Friday the 13th all over the place Let the blood spill like Bloodline you call my name fuckers