Its aight, lemme try.
i always spit acid, leave the track cooked
got agencies callin me, my tour is already booked
im just a no-name white boy, spittin crack at the lunch table
niggas walkin by me wonderin "damn, why doesnt he have a label?"
well my style is too malicious and my flow too delicious
cant pass my rhymes up, ill leave yo ass superstitious
and bitches, dont every try to get on my swag
you aint foolin me, thats no real gucci tag
my flow is never ending, i can go on for days
i challenge to find someone with slightly hotter sprays