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