Ain't nobody dumpin' on Hov
You ain’t in sanitation or sanitarium
What are you crazy Jay Z will bury em
I'll get you drug out the club they have to carry em
Go ahead bug out I'll Raid, nikka scurry
Worry I'm not the Mike Jordan of the mic recording
It's Hovi baby you Kobe, maybe Tracy McGrady
Matter fact you a Harold Miner, J.R. Rider, washed up on marijuana
Even worse you a Pervis Ellis, you worthless fella you ain't no athlete you Shawn Bradley
I ain’t talkin' to nobody in particular, my flow's just vehicular homicide when I’m kickin' up dust!
Anybody in my path is a car crash waiting to happen, nikka what?
I got my foot on the throat on the pulse of this rap game and I ain’t letting up, YUP!
Who’s the nicest life or lifeless on these mic devices and I don't write this
I just mic this I will it to happen
One take Hov I’m real at this rapping
My new name is just the facts, while the rest of y'all just adjust the facts
Put words together, just to match
I say what I feel y’all adjust to that
I do the opposite of y’all so I just attract, the realer audience usually unjustly black
Know my flow and the shyt they go through just match like the sound of my voice and a choice Just track
I just tackle the subject the flack from the public is nothing, I know real nikkas happen to love it
If you don’t like it then look in the mirror, most likely you ain’t live it so you don’t get it
You ain’t did it so you can't vision the picture I’m painting ain't vivid the language I’m spitting is so foreign to ya
See what starving will do to ya growin up hard in a little apartment'll do to ya
I’m just talkin’ to ya, I'm just talkin' through ya