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(feat. Cam'ron) [Jr Writer:] Writaaa! Let's have a pep talk, never my check short I hop in da lex sport and pop up on west port Know my next tought? What you ever extort or export? Ranged around them homos in escorts I'm a vet dog, you'll never see me lyrically I wet dogs so step off. You better do your history I did my history. This kiddos done Before i could thug a nigga he was Jim Jones son What's the big ol' front? Like his swag aint confused I remember he was doing bathrobes and shoes This asshole is rude, my cashflow is huge You suck, what the fuck?! All your rap shows get boo'd It's Murda!! Them dogs'll pop up with them burners You worker. Your boss is washed up like a surfer The nerve of this herb to. I'll hurt ya Your "Made you look" was a fake Neptune track with a Jamaican hook You a waste of push. How could you offend R? Ridin in a windstar, lying like you been hard? You've never been scarred, or wise keep. So why beef? I aint Mobb Deep. Them niggas 5 feet. I'll put you guys each in ditches yo, hit wit fours, critical, Jigga know That's why we dig the ho Letras de cancionesYou dig it ho, we squeeze rounds pop You so fuckin' wack you make Bleek sound hot So ease down ock. You wouldn't kill squat You on da Roc cuz they had to fill a mill spot You gettin deals stop, Why lie you bitch? You're not as rich Only time you get scratched is when you got an itch I'm talkin dollars, chips. Some you don't see in fronta So call this bitch anonymous cuz you aint seeing numbas Get the picture you dirty little nigra? Hov got you on the back burner like a trigger Who's sicker, or slicka? I'll rip ya with one line One rhyme, dump mine, nigga this is crunch time Come at the Don I'm dumpin them arms Your whole tape trash and it took you months to respond This pawn stylin on who? I while with a few Who would wanna here a whole fuckin album of you? It's true, and True, I will make you my lunch You've been signed a while now and aint hit radio once They aint playin that junk, If you gave it to Funk Just to get spends you gon have to pay every month Chump I aint forget your boss "Jigga, Jigga what?" He's down at the office getting fingers up his butt One of his workers told me how he really gives it up How he really is a smut and he feminine as fuck Yup, Mention us then I'm sprayin on target All True Lyfe fans are just waitin on garbage This aint Jr's hardest, You aint even Roc You roc lots with the damn reggaton artists Ur mouth's getting runned, I'm bout getting ones, your son You aint coming out like ur gun YOU'RE DONE! From Letras Mania