Tsu Surf - Conceited vs Tsu Surf lyrics

[Round 1: Conceited] Why would anybody think he blue flagging Knowing that this kid's a fraud? There's not a n***a in here That think your lines real, like a fishing rod If it's beef I'll bring the sticks, like a shish kebab Why would anyone think he really Crippin' for? If he threw up Neighborhood in that neighborhood that Nipsey's on, like Forest Gump he'll start running And he won't be Crip no more And for that one reason I'll never believe that you pop up chrome ‘Cause we all saw when it comes down to the proof That you leave your shotgun home n***a, you got some nerve Making these people think you put in a lot of work And let that llama squirt, well, I'll show you That I don't need a boogie board for me to body Surf This n***a name is Rayjon Cox, Rayjon…Rajon…Cox That's not a punch line, that's real facts I ain't playing games You know it's f**ed up when you gotta say pause Every time you say your name Just think, if he played ball And it was clutch time to put a shot in, and then the coach said, "Time out! Come on, guys, we gotta put Cox in." Or what about if he's home sleeping And his n***as on the block's tough And Suge's is like, "Hold on, y'all Let me go get my n***a Cox up." With that gay a** name, y'all believe in this f*ggot ho? And really think he be scrapping though? I swear the only n***a that ever seen Cox fighting is Calicoe But let me guess, you'll really let me have it though When it's time, ‘cause you Crip you gonna have your n***as jump me, get a couple of black guys? Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said, have your n***as jump me and get a couple of black eyes n***a, how do you want it? I can click it or jig it, either way when I strike Y'all gon' get this boy caught when I pick it n***a, when if we bring the fist in If I said you know what time it is, you will get clocked in a second by our hands, and I meant it n***a, we could get it poppin', soon as I get two TEC's I'm coming out to Jersey, like Dennis Rodman Yo, Surf, we could take it there, ain't no telling what I'd do You gon' find out that I'm good with the left and the right too I'm the one who he's dreading here So you better just always keep it wrapped, like Erykah Badu Surf, how did you get out of jail twice so fast for gun charges? That's ‘cause this n***a was ratting You are an informant, the worst type n***a I hate snitches with my soul, you deserve to die, n***a ‘Cause you tell Jersey police Who's wearing the blue and red, who'll shoot the lead To get 'em locked down With the ball and chain, like a newlywed Just to get appeal, anything on his chest he'll cough it up That's how we know that Tsu the feds n***a, I wish you were dead Your n***as behind you make it worse I wouldn't say you official if they gave you a whistle I should leave y'all brains on a rug, rat When I raise that Tommy, like Stewie Pickles That especially goes to this rat That talks to the boys, like Stewart Little n***a, you give out more statements than Mastercards These are proven facts You make real n***as lose all hope when you doin' that See, that's just like Master Splinter I mean, and we all remember that sewer rat Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said we all remember that Tsu a rat You gambling with your life You better roll out when them deuces clap Looking at me with them snake eyes You gonna see a couple die when I'm shooting craps Tsunami's looking shaky, baby! Where'd you get that subtitle sh** from Surf? Daddy, p**y! Your whole block done told you You are my son, I should scold you, and you stealing will only make somebody like me pop this on you Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said, you stealing will only make somebody like me, Pops, disown you You see, that's the problem with this bum He took S.O.N.S. whole sh** and just evolved it into one That's why your whole battle style is like Father's Day ‘Cause all your presence, you got it from a S.O.N But he don't even do it right, ain't nobody gonna fear him It's a good thing you put those rhymes in subtitles ‘Cause nobody wanna hear them This n***a's lying to this day Acting like subtitles ain't the same, that's why he named himself Surf, because he riding a n***a wave Slow it down and subtitles That sh** is more than a slight stretch You bit my style, you bit my bars And now you getting your mic checked n***a, you scared of S.O.N., so we know you just like a vampire We know it's something you gon' bite next n***a, I light TEC's and I'm bucking 'em I ain't staring hard when I say that I'm mugging him Two pistols, silencers on when I'm dumping 'em I know you fear a Con, that's a lie If you think you could run after I muzzle 'em So, Smack, you gave me a n***a That chokes in ciphers when he spittin' rhymes How's he supposed to be the champ And give me the shoe when he can't even finish lines? Everything you drop is garbage, you should get "elitified" So before you do your rounds saying how you grip the 9 And you so real with those Crippin' lines Remember, in order for you to be on Real n***a Time You first have to a be a real n***a... Time! [Round 1: Tsu Surf] Look in my eyes, Con, I hope you can see that G in me You right, I wasn't in Detroit with that shotgun But I did have that D with me But first off, for me even taking this sh**… Nah, I'm lying, you deserve this But I brought my lucky Eagle Guess who's standing under the bird sh** No, I told Smack book Surf and Con for the competition I write that perfect composition to sleep him in a calm position Now, what you trap in? Spikes? What you put work in? Louis? Something leads me to believe you the family guy, Stewie But we in this b**h, I could feel that 40 liquor in both legs And I ain't got chasers after the shots f** I need to put it in subtitles or somethin'? He with his b**h, I let that 40 lick her in both legs So I don't gotta chase her after the shots Real recognize real, I could see if he tough in his eyes Nothing can save you from these things, nothing but God This sh** heavy, I gotta lift it up from the side I give 'em all fives, like I'm getting up with the guys Say something stupid, I wish you would, n***a We could go swing for swing if you could, n***a What you 'bout to say, Jersey lost to Nets? Good, n***a The best shooters still in my hood, n***a Come on, tell me how your SIG's burst How you'll get me from rhymes dealt with two 9's About that big one shot pump that'll fold like a futon Before you get the fronting 'bout how you real and do crime This is nothing like Detroit You can spare us with them Tsu lines But you know what? I believe you would surf…in Frank's ocean You some old cat leather blouse type Unbu*ton with your tank showing I could be hospitable and hospital you, get him a bed then So even if you are a G, three'll leave you laying in with red skin O said, "What you think they gon' find?" I said, "Whatever them cops can take." Suge said, "They all out of MAC's." I said "Whatever, then cop the TEC." Check, real rap, Smack said Con wanna rap, I'm like, "Why?" I mean, he's Con but, sh**, I'm I And that's blasphemy, but if the bread might hit my line And y'all gonna watch me nail your dog Backwards to a cross, like God You ain't gotta ask where I'm from – Jersey, b**h! And all those bullsh** stories You probably got it from that Jersey b**h Am I mad? Hell nah, that's Jersey sh** I took everything, they ain't never gave Jersey sh** Lesson 1: you can't be mad if b**hes tell, it happens a lot I keep a heavy trigger finger, so I clack 'til it stop And if I gotta let it go then I'ma clap 'til he drop POW! I felt like Kobe how word got back to the block after the shots…Pau, Kobe, Howard, back to the block You see my angle, that 40 got a big nose I introduce you to the triangle They said you was a puncher, you look more like a speed bag Slow it down! I just dissed you! Aye, Goodz That's how you know a S.O.N. with the Lakers; Steve Nash I mean, I could have a bad impression of you Correct me if I speak wrong So basically I ain't got time for your kid games You wanna jump? Go ahead and leap, frog! Even if y'all did have that work in that kitchen, we cook better Another S.O.N., well, welcome to the Twilight new moon You f**ing with some wolfs, Bella A few dineros and the lil' homies will treat him like a Goodfella It's about being great, the best Never taking shorts, it ain't hard to ball How the f** they get in the club? Who carding y'all? And that n***a from St. Louis, I would pull his card an all But nah, we don't mention lames, ‘cause we were silencer subtweeting with them birds way before them Twitter games I mean, your friends look like tough guys I would hope they wouldn't let us jump the man See, I wouldn't even shoot him, just give him that headbu*t They won't ever lend another hand Brother man, brother man, you in some deep sh** ‘Cause I ain't even done yet, peep this Sittin' in the bushes, he don't know he gettin' snaked on Sawed-off Mossberg, K Shine face on X-Factor hat, no big T, he getting staked on Bunch of steel clacking, like I'm tryin' to put weights on Boom! You look like a different n***a From the one that I was tweetin' Actually you don't even look like the type of n***a I'd beef with Seem pretty fresh, b**hes like you Why would I wanna k** y'all? Nah, you that n***a I save, like, "Yo, chill, y'all!" And so what if I'm whooping your a**, b**h? Fight back! Other option a gun or run But that 9'll peel, like it's tryin' to get it's life back Ask about me, I be roamin' for the pasta They'll find you in an alley way moanin' for a doctor Pull up on him on the freeway, stolen in a Honda Long arms, Dhalslm; flippin' over the divider f**, y'all waiting for that subtitle? Long arms that'll send him flippin' over the divider What's your confession, Usher? That you not really a midget? Well, we Chris Brown b**hes This could be your last weekend, one push of a digit This ain't Love and Hip-Hop I doubt that K miss shells when it's spittin' But you, Trey Songz, he gon' wish he never did it Catch him coming down the stairs I tell the homie, like, "Shhh! Shhh!" Think it's a game 'til you are in the middle of that ch-ch See, I'm way to advanced for these n***as and it hurt Like that last bar for instance You are in the middle of that ch-ch; that's "church" [Round 2: Conceited] How are you from Newark, New Jersey? The place that never been scared But you rep Rollin 60's, a Los Angeles gang And you've never been there Alright, who created it? Who formed it? When was it started? Who's the Eight Tray Gangsters? None of them questions he can answer neither I bet if you if y'all ask him, "What is a Hoover?" He'll probably tell you it's a vacuum cleaner But for some reason that's the sh** he gon' stay claimin' Knowing damn well in jail you was Clay Aiken Used to drop the soap on purpose to say he be gang bangin' They was like, "Look at Surf, this dirty but pretty a** n***a." You came home, Suge put you under his titties a** n***a That really fat, you really black iffy a** n***a Boy, in the hood I heard Shotgun popped and k**ed you from the back; you a Ricky a** n***a Now, a lot of y'all is like, "C'mon, Conceited, stop the lying!" But it's the truth, his name shows you That Rayjon will always have Cox behind him n***a, I'll co*k the iron and dump it Let a n***a test, if I go to the chambers Cases drop, now I'ma show him justice I'ma make 'em all rise when I squeeze it off, you'll leak for sure You better bail, if I see j**elry it'll peel I bang hammers like a judge And one try will get your peoples caught I let the heaters torch and send him to Hell with blammers I slide shells in hammers And he can catch the steel, like surveillance cameras Now, he has been in cells and stammers You even held your own, n***a Heard you got a couple strikes in the pen, you bold, n***a Nah, if he got a couple strikes and a pin, you bowled, n***a Surf, you not a loc, n***a, that's why he's f**in' scared It'll go bad if you don't put a lid on it, like Tupperware n***a, these clips I got is not for cuttin' hair That hammer bang, anywhere you at I'm buckin' there You better stop all that false Crippin' up in here Soon as I see that flag I'm picking up that big nose, like double dare Now everybody open up your ears and hear how the story go For us to see that you not poppin' You ain't gotta be on the Maury Show I open rounds just for the cream; that's an Oreo And that sh**'ll put Cox through the wall, like the glory hole And if you with your b**h you oughta tell your shorty go And you also better leave, brah ‘Cause I gotta Taurus, and with this can, sir I will cap a corn and give your who*e a scope Now, this sh** must be all a joke You got ten people at your shows, you call that tourin'? You said you retired from this bullsh** and now you back? Okay, he think he Jordan Without me you wouldn't sell nothing You battled Big T and it was like ten people applaudin' Well, why couldn't Rayjon sell tix if he's such a boss then? I walk in the house and let that 40 smoke him Catch him while he's home alone And let it clap on his face, like Macaulay Culkin Surf, you joking, n***a, you ain't Loc'in, n***a Only blue C's you know about is that ocean, n***a Now, Joe Budden, my n***a, at least that's what I thought But now he's guilty on many accounts This n***a be recording our phone conversations Now you let a snitch stay in your house? You should be ashamed, no doubt Why do you feel you have to be fam with a rat Just because your name is Mouse? And this n***a wrote Surf all bars for this battle That's why BK stay k**ing y'all I mean, I beat the sh** outta Ars', and then Math did it I would say I beat Joe Budden girl, but Fab did it Damn right, you heard me, n***a So how could Surf murk me, n***a? When me and the NBA just showed y'all That Brooklyn owns y'all Jersey n***as But I do see the loyalty there, but it's none of it in this f*ggot In Cali you said Joe Budden is trash, an attention who*e And Jersey don't f**ing need him Then you said like no other, you and Ars' are brothers But then you turned your back on him To Joe for a couple of features? Well, in the streets if your brother don't f** with a n***a You don't f** with him either Everything about you is questionable Your loyalty, the gang you repped, what set you from The big home Ray Swag set trips in front of you But you show him extra love My n***a Cortez disrespected a blue flag in front of your face And took out a red one, but you ain't get reckless, Cuz It's well known Hitman bang them big B's But when he's around you stay getting thugged So that shows he's the one that's really Manny Pacquiao ‘Cause he always scared to test a blood All that fake bangin' sh**, n***a, you did enough I'll put your seed in the dirt, see if it make a sun flower Oh, she like make-up? Well, this MAC could give her face some gun powder Like, get your punk a** daddy from here That n***a will get wet; no sun shower I swear I'll snatch up Tsu young if he try to rush ours I'm loading up them Parrots until my hand numb And that sh** will pop, pop without a grandson Everything you say is make up; that's Lancome I'm the type to reach for the handgun ‘Cause I be quick to get foul and buck it, like an And 1 n***a, name one hot bar he's gotten off I'll wax him like a cotton swab Y'all see him get served over the net, like a volleyball Flash them beads and I'm showing two cans, like Mardi Gras Them gats shoot, and they will cap Tsu, like Tylenol Bullets are going into your temple, like the Taj Mahal I lift pounds, spit rounds, take him down; Chris Brown You need to stop with that b**h sound ‘Cause only a b**h will lock pick a door Iike "errrr" Real n***as will shoot that sh** down This n***a could never show his face in Detroit, ‘cause Proof's mans, they will melt you, with cannons and hecklers I swear they would cook you If they saw your face in the glove, like Hamburger Helper [Round 2: Tsu Surf] I come at your whole crew neck, I make you b**hes look hood I guess Joe Budden rubbed off I make all you b**hes look good But pause, pause, timeout, timeout You had your dick, pause, on the back Pause, of another man's head, pause Which leads me to believe you'll get hit from the back On another man's bed, pause Now, aside from the bars for a second I'm just tryin' to see where your brain at You over 21, not a cheerleader, and had your legs wrapped around another grown man head… explain that! You can't, so don't, that's gay, who you f**ing kiddin'? If your naked face had a mustache I'd punch you in it And f** your swag, p**y! We don't do it for no mothaf**in' Louie hats ‘Cause I been to a place where ain't no mothaf**in' Louie at And those same OG's that taught me "Never change when you winning." Said just ‘cause he look like he get it don't mean that he got it The ones that usually have it, you never really could spot it And the ones that flash ain't got enough Or they dumb so they don't hide it Question, if all y'all money on your outfit Then what the f** is in your pocket? Oh, you cool ‘cause you dress for the awards? What, you want an Oscar? Let's play swear to God Swear to God on your mother You wasn't battling and working at Red Lobster Exactly, so I don't wanna hear about How you spray and clap the mags But I just might believe you if you say you cracked the crab These fans think everybody real And everybody giving out coffins NOT! What these fans don't know is Reggie here Is from Miami with the Dolphins Tell 'em, Reginald! Don't worry, I'II do it I was getting ready for this lesson I started stretchin', started lookin' Searched your name on YouTube And noticed all your battles your hometown said "Brooklyn" Now, when I think of hometown I think: caught my first charge, got my first p**y, bought my first tool there… Not your family visit the city You move in the summers or moved there We trap, we hang, we bang Skipped a few cla**es, but safe to say we went to school there Now, I wonder which Brooklyn hood Gon' admit Con had his heat blowing Where your tool at? Where you went to school at? Tilden, Wingate, Prospect Heights James Madison – should I keep going? Boys and Girls, Canarsie, Sheepshead Bay, Midwood You ain't from no f**ing New York What's wrong with Miami if you live good? And you ain't even from no f**ing Miami You from Pembroke Pines, that's a 20/30-minute drive What good is bars on top of bars if your foundation is lies? You went to Charles Flanagan High, Reginald, accept it A real man once told me, "Once your card gets pulled Your hands is what you left with." You know nothing about what you rap about, that is not G And that hater that told you about me, that is not me Why you paying so much attention to a life that's not free? I don't glorify sh**, ‘cause if I ain't get them they'd a got me You went to war with Bricks, Heartless and Fox That ain't real clever… Just like a conceited b**h Hang around a bunch of corny b**hes to feel better So I don't wanna hear about how you spray and dump the heat ‘Cause real n***as know You only as real as the company you keep But this the n***a I'm supposed to fear? Can't even look over my shoulder clear You look like a runner, lift your chin up, hold it there You mortal? Well, if Con bat I'ma let that Scorpion scream "Get over here!" But you from Brooklyn, right? Well, I got some n***as that's notorious for work, they lil' me's Y'all better pray he got faith Or sir rock a vest, puffy enough he won't feel these Keep it moving; that's Kim, one call and he will bleed My lil' Crips off real sh** That could be a big d**h from them lil' C's [Round 3: Conceited] So, you stole my subtitles from me, Surf Is the name flip next? You gonna move on? See, if I was you I would've said "I keep that tool on And y'all would thought I was Kemba Walker The way I keep shooting at you, Con" But you not nice like that Imagine Surf tryin' to clap them hammers When that fire ring, you ain't getting up From the dirt; you ain't Captain Planet If what I grip starts to click, like Adam Sandler Then that pump can light up, like a jack o' lantern See, now I know the sound of it is bad But I also got a meter that'll get you around, like a cab Go ahead, try to run, you gon' hear "Pow! Pow!" from the mag See, that's that bull, I don't know what you heard If it's beef this cat'll put the cal to your calf Now that I'm mad I'm ending this sh** Behind bars you could get your mug-shot; that's a criminal pic Mr. Rayjon Cox, you're not really a Crip You an actor, you need to get in a flick You don't get props from the set, you need to stick to the script; your life's a movie theater, cinema clip I said "Your life's a movie, the 8 will send him a clip!" I put dick in your b**h, she got that awesome puss I made her cream, like Abdul-Jabber So when I scored it was off the hook She was like, "Damn, Conceited! Thank you, pa!" Then I put my tip in her mug, like a thank-you jar I cannot believe this n***a wifed it I take her to the military when I pipe it I don't know what he offers her, but she'll get the semen If it's about face I command her to get on a private Now we all know I can dead him And spit at him like a drill sergeant in a few minutes Go in his pockets and General You getting capped in if it's major loot in it That 5 air you can die here, like a beautician And your man can die hard too, like Bruce Willis n***a, you don't use triggers when you look for noise Said he had the lion with the long nose Like Pinocchio, you wouldn't, boy But you will get clapped good tryin' to act hood Ayo, fat Suge! It's a wrap for your bud, like Backwoods That's how you know I'm a split his guts He getting loud I mean is this what you really want? Since he think he a OG we'd roll up, spark the clip And smoke you roaches even if you get a little blunt Now these n***as already know how we'll give it up See, Suge is cool, but I know real 60's and this n***a's not one So if it's beef after, don't worry We'll still get along, Shotgun… Nah, f** that! I said "If it's beef after, we'll still get a long shotgun!" f** that fat f*ggot, you a b**h too! And just cause your little dog a b**h Does not mean you the sh**, Tsu Now, I'ma tell y'all the quick truth Somebody told me Surf has an STD I swear that sh** was news to even me I got a b**h in Amboy, New Jersey She has a little sister and she's a teen She said "Surf went out with my best friend Then tried to sleep with me." But after they had s** that girl was on fire, like Alicia Keys So I'm like "Damn! You tryin' to give everyone those diseases, fam?!" I heard you eat out the box like a slice of pizza, and… he's tryin' to have the whole Jersey burning, like a Cleveland fan Now I know that sh** just got him mad Isn't it ironic, a Crip that got some crabs? n***a, why don't you just be like Usher, tell us a confession You got caught up and you let it burn and you got it bad Now I know that sh** got him sad ‘Cause after this, why will any chick let him pipe still? Y'all better watch out This n***a will give you disease faster than NyQuil Now, why did you deal with that same b**h That gave K Shine something in his mouth? And you still went and get your lick on Asia? Tsu, she roll with crabs and you still ate her fish roll I said Asia sushi roll with crabs and he still ate her fish roll Now sit the f** down, p**y, Daddy's got business to handle Hey, Thunder boy K.D, this n***a talking sh** on Twitter His mind must be crazy gone I swear I run into any crib he might even maybe own And y'all will think I'm Tom Cruise The way I'm dumping K.D. homes I'll ride at that house, like Neverland Ranch Surf b**h want me to wife her and get her band But that's never the chance After she get blown out I'm deading them plans; you'll see her crying when she don't get a ring, like Kevin Durant Get back over here, p**y, Daddy's finished You will not clack the blicker or use hecklers If you did I would snap back caps on him, like New Era He think I won't 'til that steel'll show, like a bootlegger Try to play, boy, and I'll put the jammies On him, like Hugh Hefner n***a, if you knew better, you'd do better You got on green pockets for moving green, partner? If I see him with the nicks He'll be napping on the spot, like Rasheed Wallace You damn right I squeeze llamas But I won't let the pound touch you After you get the two TEC's I'm bringing the subs out, like they in foul trouble But just imagine if I clap It, I blame ish, now think of Proactiv Or I could make it clear as hell this black head better break out ‘Cause this boy will pop, that's it Get it, that's it, that zit, scratch it The way my bars over head I should be in gymnastics If I pack it, let that Glock explode You'll think he has a foot problem; I'll make sure the cal is on his corn & the hammers willl take out your soul You'll see defeat and he'll be in pain until a doctor shows Yeah, I lock and load hollows in the .38, that heat will dead you I'm just like a waiter Soon as I show him the special he'll see a menu Slow it down! I just dissed you! I said: "Soon as I show him the special we'll see 'em in you" Slow it down some more! I said: "Soon as I show him the special we'll see 'em end you" Slow it down once more! Show him the special we'll see him and you!" I swear that sh** will get mad real When you see these caps peel they ain't Advils It can be 10 of you n***as, I'll clap steel And still cap at all ten I see, like Nashville Surf, you f**ing with that white girl, that must be jungle fever You softer with nicks than Cousin Skeeter n***a, you could be a block away, 100 meters And I'll still buck it from afar, like a buzzer beater So you need to stop stealing my style with all that chit chat I'm feeling like OJ Simpson I had to but him behind bars to get my own sh** back [Round 3: Tsu Surf] We gon' call this one a doobie; that's a wrap for you b**hes I can swear on my daughter I never burned a chick But I could swear on my mother I clapped a few b**hes Like everything you say is for laughs First you said I had a burning chick, then you said I had crabs But anyways, they usually say I'm known for my seconds In a minute our confrontation will be done Yo, bring that hearse round Y'all ga**ed ‘cause he slowing down lines? n***a, you could slow my whole verse down I can't front, this little corny act k**ing me A big MAC and two 9's, I could order that literally Throwing bullets like it's my job I know the quarterbacks feeling me These two 9's start flipping sh** around the room I call these a pair of normal activities You said you had a gun Sean Bradley size… pipe down! I only hit his head and shoulders, he'll get skyped down Catch him close range, then his stomachs shot right now After five I leave a stapled center; Mike Brown Lil' n***as like you, where I'm from, get hemmed up He battled Tall T and said he'll "Pa** the Glock to Fox…" and then what?! Let me get a little closer, y'all hear me know? Good, you get more than clothes if I gotta put these hand me's down I'll wreck to his crib, I don't care if his mom there Camping outside, I wonder if she got the new LeBron's there One address and them Goonies gonna bomb there I tell 'em let that fir nickel her cage, but it's face off if Con there Speaking of your mother, what that b**h was sniffing when she had you? It must be grams I'm Jonesin to snatch them Juelz; I must be Cam' I ain't strapped, but my homie is, and once he blam They gon' find you, Con, on a shirt; shout out to Husky fans This n***a high as a kite thinking he could pa** me I guess Drake ain't the only one high off the gra**, see Got malt liquor for soft n***as That's a 40 and start pouring on you And with all them tats You should be used to n***as drawing on you I mean, the last dude was kinda cool, but his swag lame Painted a cool picture with a bad frame I really said no, all the way until the cash came Judge screamed, "Why'd you shoot Brix?" I responded, "I had a bad game." These next few bars, just something that I gotta do ‘Cause a lot of these fake n***as would never bother to Shine, Ill, X, T, D…wins, debatables, bodies, I got a few But one thing they all had is why I never bothered you Heartless gave you breath, QP fathered you I'm sick and f**ing tired of these so called leader cats You really not nice, your image is why you lead your pack I mean, let's be real, who else would you run behind? Brixx? Fox? That's f**ing buffoonery, this bullsh** stops You on a team with Brixx and Fox! Half theses n***as laughing and half these n***as lost He half the human height so I pay half to get him off I seen his shoes, his pants, his shirt What, you wanna get interviewed for Smack? Oh, y'all waiting for that subtitle? I seen his shoes His pants, his shirt, he got in the view and smacked