Good Riddance (Aristo Diss) Drake (Ft. Bishop Brigante, JD Era, Jonny Roxx, Ken Masters & Young Tony)

[Verse 1: Bishop Brigante]
It's fuckin' losers like you that make me do what I do
Make me hate where I'm from, you as fake as they come
Everybody got guns, who the fuck gonna squeeze
Everybody got songs, but you ain't fucking with these
Why you wish to be ghetto, tell me what's it about
While you're tryna get in we're all tryna get out
Why don't you just be yourself, why don't you tell us the truth
Like how you only load guns when you up in the booth
You ain't nothin' to shoot, you don't even exist
You're just a fantasy family as weak as it gets
And you ain't speakin' to Bish, cause I don't listen to chicks
I don't argue with broads, cause I'm really a pimp
But I will tell you this, as far as y'all are concerned
Pull out my Santa Claus, and make the holidays burn
You can call me the Grinch, cause y'all are nothing but Who's
Just another bunch of low life's with nothing to do

[Verse 2: Ken Masters]
Now let the kids play like the rider's ride
We spendin' all day, these niggas idolize
They claim they want fame nigga so we decided
That we gon' make 'em some stars until the drama dies
But they can go back to they holes where they mama lies
Or write more lies about they drugs, guns or homicide
Funny, claim the thug life that they abidin' by
But run up on 'em, then they turn into the silent type, they wanna compromise
My niggas, we ride or die
And roll with them bitches that got they body right
These niggas ain't built, ain't got the body type
Time to break a nigga's spirit like the Amistad, tryna fool the audience
Feel the ambience
Stars in your presence, kings of the city are appalled by the peasants
Ain't gotta say names, we can all get a reference
Brains and the info from your broads in the west end
Masters, flowing staggers on bars
Nigga stay mad cause his swagger's on Mars
Y'all niggas ain't thinking we calling y'all 'tards
Claim you want war, okay, on guard