Verse 1:
Tell BEP we ain't with onomatopoeia's
Want to diss? Well on songs I'm a genius
A real wiz kid...just ask Dorothy
Been lynching for the green all while dressing clean
No dirty laundry so I got more gain
By working out on beats, so you got more pain
No agony, no rewards
So even if you're mad at me, no remorse
Code G, flip that: Gymnast; get that
No ba**? Skip that. Tight verse; spit that
This that point blank, smoking gun joint stank
No marriage want to wait; won't raise the divorce rate
Make no sense, alimony check the wordplay
Without family feuds; no survey
No ringing, no buzzing while the game's on lock
Cause the show is on the road (when I'm on the block)
Huzzah!
Chorus:
You hear that ba** bang?
You hear your ears ring?
Who's bringing that flame?
It's Fiya B, mayne!
Verse 2:
Shaking and breaking your eardrums, s**er
Making and taking you near dumb, buster
Must I remind you I'm stunting my IQ. No stumping the guy who is sicker than swine flu
I got a lot of hotter fever than Beiber; believe I'm just influenza
Send the victims to the doc before delirium
Hits them; give them shots of get silly serum
Sick curing these dumber cats at the price of Social
Security numbers; that's why we do not know you
Citizens, immigrants; decision imminent
Deportee reporting: Me foreign resorting
Timeshare I'm here visiting cities and
Playing Neptunes and wreck fools like test Vues
Space age flows that drift on so catch that
Ball, dog: Fetch that, pet that, guess that
Means that you're feeling me drop that hot stuff
So watch you step off when I'm on the block
Huzzah!
Chorus:
Bridge 2x
808, sub kick saying ain't ba** sick
You got to like a little "B" cooking in your basement
So turn your bottoms up for tres songs
And let the beat bang til your face numb
Because I got that
Chorus