[Verse 1: Maestro Cam]
I don't know what you want from me
I'm goin' harder on this beat than a California red wood tree
Rappin' like I'm Tracy T
Maybe soon I'll be in MMG
I'm bustin' down all these walls
I don't care if it's one in China
Or if it's a f**in' hymen
Swear to God, it's my time
Swear to God I think Montana has a hearing problem (Haaaaan)
Let's go up an octave, I'm all in
I'm ballin' like Spalding
90 percent of rappers f**in' fakers
I'm from Baldwin County, Alabama
Bruce Banner like I'm Hulkin'
She say if my song is good enough
Then she might let me hold hands, AH!
f** her, and everything she stand for
I don't want to know your feelings
You know what I what I want, girl!
[Verse 2: Maestro Cam]
I don't need a hook cause my rhymes are f**in' excellent
Just like how I am in bed, look how wet these covers get
Thought about takin' out that line for the fam'
But they gon' learn today like I'm teaching them a lesson, trick!
Used to think I'm Heaven-sent
The way my bars go over heads, I was on some halo sh**
I ain't who you f**in' with
Rhymes are on another level, yeah, I got experience
If I had one word to call you, son, I guess it'd be inferior
Interior of my car, you know I like it leather
So I get them seat heaters, make me that much hotter
Speaking of cars, want to know why I picked this beat?
So my Unc' could play it loud through the subs behind his seat
That's the truth, swear to God
The only reason that I rhyme is so maybe one day I'll hear him
Pull up in the yard bumpin' Cam and not these other retards
A.K.A Chief Keef, GBE, BrickSquad, Gucci Mane
f** y'all - y'all destroyin' Hip-Hop
At the top it's just us? Shut the f** up
Been a year in the game and I still ain't got no fame
So if I don't make it off this, y'all can go and s** my dick
But if I do make it off this, you can still s** my dick, AH!