[Round 1: Jimz]
Stop bein' dirty dirty, stop bein' diiiiirty!
You look like...a survived abortion
With the swag of an orphan
And even though without this hat, I kinda resemble a sharkfin
It doesn't change the fact that you look like a dirty down syndrome dolphin
But we off him
See I hustle from around here through Boston
That's how I know these streets legit
I learned Worcester get the money and Springfield let them heaters spit
And we from Queens but he rap 'bout it, I seen the shit
I had my back against the wall like I couldn't reach the itch
Meanwhile, you be at the butcher shop gun range
Clappin' machetes with cleaver clips
But let me find out you makin' money in the streets though
Bag of Doritos you'll be aired out halfway before you reach the chips
I keep a shooter on deck, everyday with Jimz
There'll be a green light on your head like we're playin' Sims
Or let my little deuce deuce spark through, I ain't even got to lift the Sig
It's Hey Arnold, the small cap blew and split his wig
You what's weird as shit? Shotta
He don't know how to fight but got the face of a boxer
If we went to school together I would've took a shit in your locker
You just gettin' doe
Kinda, I been fly, and we ran through them dollars
And we got it all from blow/Bloe like the Bullpen roster
So get off my John John cause Gully if I slapped him right now I bet he wouldn't even push me back
D's soft like the pussy wack
So go 'head, keep talkin' like you load hollows in the Mac
Head shot, erase his (a racist) past like Hollohan and Pat
When I first shot a gat, the trigger pinched my finger fat
It ain't really work out great besides that I was scared, shootin' with the workout face
See now-a-days I'm not in the best of shape
But what I lift heavy, I'm talkin' handguns, automatics, I could pick any
Use whatever machine I want like the gym's empty
And then I wipe down the machine like I'm gym friendly
I be ridin' on my enemies, schemin' up the street four deep in the Burban
I be aimin' while I'm drivin' so the whole car swervin'
Tote the Glock at his team and I'm seein' that he hurtin'
Stomach shot made him lean...like Carter Deems when he's nervous
Oh yeah, it's not A. Ward
So y'all can keep tryin' to mean mug, just know I'll get your whole team cut
Every face can get stitches, yo 'Ganik, I ain't P-Nut I ain't afraid of these bitches
One more thing I gotta say
Today you gettin' none of my throwaways
Jimz a hoarder this a slaughter
Yo Goodz, why you always rappin' like you a hustler but against me you were scared to flip a quarter
This is torture, cause comin' at Jimz is as crazy as lettin' Chris Unbias babysit your daughter
So go ahead DNA spit that bum shit
Either way this round 28 grams; one zip
Stop bein' dirty dirty, stop bein' diiiiirty!
You look like...a survived abortion
With the swag of an orphan
And even though without this hat, I kinda resemble a sharkfin
It doesn't change the fact that you look like a dirty down syndrome dolphin
But we off him
See I hustle from around here through Boston
That's how I know these streets legit
I learned Worcester get the money and Springfield let them heaters spit
And we from Queens but he rap 'bout it, I seen the shit
I had my back against the wall like I couldn't reach the itch
Meanwhile, you be at the butcher shop gun range
Clappin' machetes with cleaver clips
But let me find out you makin' money in the streets though
Bag of Doritos you'll be aired out halfway before you reach the chips
I keep a shooter on deck, everyday with Jimz
There'll be a green light on your head like we're playin' Sims
Or let my little deuce deuce spark through, I ain't even got to lift the Sig
It's Hey Arnold, the small cap blew and split his wig
You what's weird as shit? Shotta
He don't know how to fight but got the face of a boxer
If we went to school together I would've took a shit in your locker
You just gettin' doe
Kinda, I been fly, and we ran through them dollars
And we got it all from blow/Bloe like the Bullpen roster
So get off my John John cause Gully if I slapped him right now I bet he wouldn't even push me back
D's soft like the pussy wack
So go 'head, keep talkin' like you load hollows in the Mac
Head shot, erase his (a racist) past like Hollohan and Pat
When I first shot a gat, the trigger pinched my finger fat
It ain't really work out great besides that I was scared, shootin' with the workout face
See now-a-days I'm not in the best of shape
But what I lift heavy, I'm talkin' handguns, automatics, I could pick any
Use whatever machine I want like the gym's empty
And then I wipe down the machine like I'm gym friendly
I be ridin' on my enemies, schemin' up the street four deep in the Burban
I be aimin' while I'm drivin' so the whole car swervin'
Tote the Glock at his team and I'm seein' that he hurtin'
Stomach shot made him lean...like Carter Deems when he's nervous
Oh yeah, it's not A. Ward
So y'all can keep tryin' to mean mug, just know I'll get your whole team cut
Every face can get stitches, yo 'Ganik, I ain't P-Nut I ain't afraid of these bitches
One more thing I gotta say
Today you gettin' none of my throwaways
Jimz a hoarder this a slaughter
Yo Goodz, why you always rappin' like you a hustler but against me you were scared to flip a quarter
This is torture, cause comin' at Jimz is as crazy as lettin' Chris Unbias babysit your daughter
So go ahead DNA spit that bum shit
Either way this round 28 grams; one zip
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!