[Hook]
These niggas ain't bigger than me
These niggas ain't Nas, ain't Jigga to me
These niggas ain't Em, they ain't 50 to me
You ain't Pun, you ain't Pac, you ain't Biggie to me
These niggas ain't Crips, they ain't 60's to me
These niggas ain't Bloods, they ain't dripping with me
Niggas talking that shit 'bout the new generation, man
Fuck these niggas, I'll slash your fucking faces
[Verse 1]
You niggas ain't sold shit, not an album or a rock
Pussy nigga putting rings on my old bitch
Dick down the throat ass niggas, old ho' ass niggas
Happy cause you went gold ass niggas
These niggas ain't spitting with me, you ain't sicker than me
Fuck out my section you ain't sitting with me
This for very important people, it's clear that we not equal
Clear you niggas faggots, I'm the black Marshall Mathers
Like "ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
Who needs Hulk Hogan when you got Sting on this motherfucker?
Less than five albums, Kiss the Ring on this motherfucker
California throne and I'm the King on this motherfucker
I don't wanna hear it – weak ass lyrics
Crying on the hook, thinking we gon' feel it
Old lost ass niggas, voice crack when you talk ass niggas
Rolling blunts for the boss ass niggas
I came in with 'Ye, Jeezy and boss ass niggas
Your Freshman cover a whole bunch of soft ass niggas
Tampon lyricists, evacuate the premises
Mute BET Cyphers, cause I don't wanna hear that shit
May you Rest in Piss, you fuck niggas, eh
Frank Ocean go ahead and fuck these niggas
(Yeah, they fuck niggas) Ain't no 3 stacks in your class
Take your Top 10 spot and shove it up your ass, bitch boy
[Break]
Niggas already fucked your bitch, you bitch boy
And every time you kiss your bitch you suck my dick, you bitch boy
And when you buy that ho a bag that bitch carry my bricks, you bitch boy
[Verse 2]
I was in the XXL, Red Chucks 'round my neck
I was the G in the Unit, had Buck round my set
Word to the Rhymes, had Busta Bust round my set
Gave Whoo Kid a Glock in case they bust round my set
I'm from Compton where that Glock can't fuck with that Tec
That's some Bompton, 40 Glocc got socked in his neck
This a spawn in the flesh, you a pawn hit reset
Five in the chest, I'm Makaveli the Don in the vest
Don't say "What's up" when you see me, you a pussy nigga
Stranget, fake ass Kanye, fake ass Weezy
Fake ass jewelry, how I know? I'm at the pawn shop
Nigga better off jacking Flav for his alarm clock
Speaking of time, how much more 'til the Game drop
So you can suck my dick and Complex can count my name drops
I been the underdog, I'm cool in the dog house
Fuck all these pussys, give me any name to call out
Left Aftermath, Dre told me ball out
Stunna put me on a private jet then we balled out
Landed in Miami, met some bitches ate 'em all out
Black Marshall Mathers, time to show 'em what it's all 'bout
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
[Hook]
[Outro]
Frank Ocean go ahead and fuck these fuck niggas
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
"Ying, ying, ying" on a motherfucker
Drop your single, I drop dreams on that motherfucker
I should let my daughter scream on this motherfucker
The industry soft, I should let Miguel sing on this motherfucker
Ride out
Blood money, we gon' ride out
Ride out
And don't think I won't send six niggas to your hide out
Rich Gang
compositores: CHANNY MOON CASSELLE, JAYCEON TAYLOR, JORDAN MOSELY, RYAN OLSON, STANLEY BENTON
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