Madlib - Vintage Air lyrics

Some say BHM is sh** cuz' we faked it But I say y'all f**a's retarded cuz we made it Beat your a** with a bat, b**h hit the pavement Teach you for pullin' on my block b**h, I got no patience Fake b**h, pull up bruh, run up on some Haitians Flow fatter than my ego and my ego is bipolar so And I'm a psycho on that microphone Throw you on the ground, then I beat you with a traffic-cone Yung Brodog runnin' the show, go f** your ugly hoe Can't touch a motha f**a' when they sittin' in their zone Fantano ain't got sh** on this BHM rap clique sh** music don't exist, if it did then I'd create it Distort my f**in' vocals like my name was Adalwolf I don't give a f**, k** the flow like an overdose My lyrics give you cancer, I was diagnosed f** I don't remember sh**, all I know is my nose is full of coke And if a b**h snitch, then I cut throat Y'all motha f**as' trippin like when I jump rope Yo man I don't know, I don't think I got any hope Might as well write this note before I hang from a rope Write this down, here's a f**in' quote Yung Brodog is a f*ggot and Gucci Mane is the greatest, yo ‘Dro smoked and I'm doped up What the f** man, I choked up I guess I don't got enough enough in me to follow up Kick it back to the Brodog flow Gucci bro, steal a b**hes purse with an arrow yo I'm swimmin' in the p**y, bro Have you seen my nose? Gets me stupid hoes But you know what? I'm a f**in' joke f** this track, I'm done Where's the f**in' hash at? Blah!