"I've been fukked over Left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, shyt on me, spit on my grave
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y'all some well wishers, friendly acting, envy hiding snakes
With your hands out for my Interviews, man, how much can I take
When these streets keep calling, heard it when I was sleep
That this
Sherman and Seattle Seahawks wanted beef
Started cocking up my weapon, slowly loading up this ammo
To explode it on a Fool and his soldiers (LOB)
I can handle this for dolo and his manuscript just sound stupid
When Green bay already showed how to beat you with a Blueprint
First Revis' my man, then you got the nerve to say
That you better than him, dikk-sucking lips
Why don't you let the GOAT CB in the League live"