[Verse 1:]
Woo!
Yeah, first solo single off the bat
I made my own f**in beat when I hit the pads
Made my own lyrics shouts out to English cla**
And now you bout to hear what I do with my f**in rap!
Woo! Lupe Fiasco my role model
Food & Liquor yeah I call that sh** my own bible
And I ain't really got a half-decent lookin rival
f** what y'all think the winner goes to MC Tadpole
I lay it down and I hit the gavel
The case is dead, f** with me and I hit the hammer
I chat sh**, only bang I got
Was a bang of fame, and a name on the spot
n***a you would get dropped, the first day on the job
If you ever tried to join the dope game on lock
You wouldn't even make it past 24 on the clock
You ruined my beat, now you getting the charge, Woo!
[Hook:]
Yeah, Neapolitan we hit the spot
We gon ride to the top and you gonna fall
Say ya last words cause all you ever do is speak
You can't rap, you ain't real, all you do is steal!
Uh, I'm k**ing this Belfast b**h
Said I'm k**ing this Belfast b**h
I'm k**ing this Belfast b**h
You shoulda thought about your choices when you took a hit!
[Verse 2:]
Spittin like I'm twista my speed only gets more iller
I bust a rhyme and I'm chopping like Tecca Nina the god
But my music ain't very strange so I guess I'm more of a Hopsin
My options are getting wider my chances are getting higher
Climbing up like a fire that be burning like a lighter
But I never dry to bits because my flow so f**in wet
Like a benz that be hittin speeds of a 100 miles an hour
Or wetter than all the water that be comin outcha shower
Outta this world like Andromeda flippin astronomer you cannot honestly
Think that you've gotten me bought like a soccer team makin a mockery outta my honesty
Yeah I'm a prodigy I'm always pondering how to get gardening growing my pottery
Making the strawberries little more watery without a watering can
Using autonomy outta my armory's comin a battering ram or a battery
Burning my enemies thinkin they talenty so I just gotta be k**in with modesty
Kinda ironic here bragging with modesty but I'm so fast that I'm k**ing the prophet he's
Losing a war to me magical fairytales strong as a barrier speedin like autorails
[Hook]
[Verse 3:]
It's insane how the game lost it's reputation to lame
Motherf**in wack-a** rappers who couldn't even sustain
Getting disses all they do is talk about they private planes
And the gains on they b**hes who twerk the whole f**ing day
It's a shame… reviving a dead genre
Flows so bad they mix it and autotune it all up
I be makin lyrics that get ya head all caught up
I be just like Drizzy getting my game all charged up
I just wanna know why you thinkin you winning
Rap's about the meaning not the beat, just ask slim
Hear his lyrics and you'll know what's really real with this sh**
Go to old school pac, man you know what it is
Know what's the bizz, f** around get thrown off a cliff
Reppin big on IG but you bend on my dick
You been awfully quiet, were our bars too sick?
I think this Irish motherf**er just can't take a diss! Woo!
[Hook]
[Outro:]
Yungh sh**-a** prophet you better not get yo a** back on the track cause I know you ain't got what it takes to mess with us! You've thrown more shots on your instagram than yo diss record! And you got like what, 4 instagram posts? b**h n***a you can't touch us, Neapolitan's hotter than your mom! Hotter than yo songs! We got it goin' on! n***a you can't touch this 500° we burnin' yo white-a**, go back to Ireland you gon need a lucky charm to f** with us n***a