No Chances

(álbum: Hunger Pains - 2013)

Y'all don't even got a chance at all
So pass the ball, its fact that my raps is raw
Tap your jaw, you act like a casting call
Cats are soft, I'm strapped with a mask and claws
Old school like Cappadonna or Wu-tang
Y'all still putting panties on, your crew lame
You should call your click pampers dog you're poo stains
You listening to Asher Roth and 2 Chainz
My bars barbaric, this shit is too complex
Get it in your system every written is a bomb threat
My squad next, yea we been around the block
I got your broad wet, I had to feed her full of cock
On top, don't stop, until the cops come knocking
Every spot's on lock till the gods not talking
All these odd balls rocking what I got
Y'all stop it, I don't need a señorita now that the Guap's all profit
I'm good

Yeah I'm looking like a young Chris Farley
My team come through, crush brews and get gnarly
That's why they loving the can he spit godly
My fans want me running for Pres, Mitt Romney
I'm sick of having to answer the same questions
Half of these fake feminists are rapping to make relish
I got bars, no cell, no having to pay fellas
I tell em how I see it the last of the great legends
I've been all around the cheese like a pizza baker
I still write out each verse on a piece of paper
My squad got more people than in the streets of Asia
And when its finished all these bitches gonna need some make up
Its bout time you fuck boys got to meet your maker
I never freeze up anytime I see a hater
I'm putting pussies to work I know they need the labor
This shit is over, adiós, I'll have to see you later