I'm k**ing the game and they're telling me stop it
Flipping for change; I'm just making a profit
Spitting out flames to get me the fame; I chill with your dame
She feeling my name; gripping the thing and she making it sloppy
Eugh, who nasty with it? I'm nasty with it
Wondering who went and snapped these pictures
Of me chilling with all these fancy women, God damn
That's a cla**y image, but no relevance factor
It's like all you rappers just copy pasted
The basics of who made it; y'all moving it backwards
Money, check, hoes, check
Fame, check, clothes, check
Drugs coming off of the boat, check
Hasn't it all gotten old yet
People they want to hear more so
As artists we grind for our own check
But you as the listener really should listen here
Forget the whole freestyle, this facts that you should hear
The more that y'all people keep playing trash
Supporting and buying and rating this trash
The more that the industry keeps making trash
Supply and demand, it's what you demand
And if they demanded some real bars
Believe me young homie, I'd be the man