Lyrics:

[Intro]
Yeah
You're now rockin' with the best
Hub City's threat
Minor of the year
K. Dot
Ooh, it's about to get so ugly in here
It's about to get so ugly
Like whoever's listening to this
Oh man I crack myself up
Yeah
Oh my God man, oh my God
We 'bout to shit on these faggots man
Check it
Yeah, K. Dot
*Let me get that*

[Verse 1]
First niggas used to rapping, get my attention
Now I don't even listen
It run through one ear and out the other
And I don't buy niggas records for music
I'm more interested in their album covers
I'm a talented brotha
Plus I move so quick it's like my brain came with a joystick
Motherfuckers better listen when I spit
I knock records out the park
Homeboy I Ken Griffey a hitch, and I might Ken Griffey ya bitch
{?}, not even a small bag of chips
Just give her long pipe 'til it's scrapin' her hips
Like a waitress, the way the broad ask for the tip
If you want, just ask for a clip
I'll give ya those for free
I won't charge a fee
Just roll up on you, like cut off sleeves
Nobody can cut off the-
-number one rap artist
Damn, I am the hardest
Blowin' through Nintendo cartridges
To Maybachin it, valet parkin' it
Now people arguin'
Who is better? Them or him
Him referring to me
Them referring to the industry
Hands down, Jay left, now give me the crown
Fuck later, I'm takin' it now
Fuck haters, I'm takin' 'em down
With the red beam, red beam, silencer, don't holler it muffle the sound
Bark like ten rottweilers straight from the pound
Straight for the dollas, 745 [?] Impala, scrapin' the ground
I suggest you follow, or not be smarter
Seein' another broke tomorrow
You can tell the way I speak begins to stutter
First it was hard for y'all to even makin' it harder
Ain't about money, then please don't bother
Y'all niggas funny, talkin' bout that you run shit
When I'm lookin' at ya like 'Who are ya?'
Y'all niggas is gas
And what make that bad is y'all niggas is trash
Y'all don't wanna see me spaz
Out, pull the gats out
And see me blast, ouch
You better off coppin' a pen and a pad
Than copyin' the last rhymes I had
And spit 'em to your homeboys 'till they all say 'You wrote that?'
Tell 'em lies or, give 'em the facts
It don't matter 'cause in a minute, imma be chargin' my raps
A G for a bar, that's 3 16's, plus a 8 bar hook nigga, add up that
I charge you a verse like Dre would charge you a track
Your whole budget, hoes love it
But you hate it, 'cause I'm your girls favorite
Nigga, face it, you can't walk in my shoes nor change the sides tryna replace it
As far as rap, I spit in the Matrix
Past reality, nigga actually, I wrote a rhyme where there was no gravity
That's a whole 'nother planet
For real holmes, I do damage
Blow up ya city, even ya school campus
Run in ya class while your doin' ya standards
Let it blast
One gun subtractin' ya life, now that's the basics of math

[Outro]
Oh my God man let me stop spazzin' out on these niggas, b
They have to call 911, I'm done
Dave, you feel me man? It's real
K. Dot man, just havin' a lil fun up here man
It's real ugly, ya know?
Yeah, bang, bang, let's go