Coins

[Verse]
Eat a dick
Or at least eat a Pita chip
Right after I skeet on it, you piece of shit
Tell your lie speakin' lips they should try pleadin' fifths
More often, bitch, and refer to me as "Your Awesomeness"
You sayin' me and so and so are comparable
Then I look up so and so and they're terrible, you disgust me
Trendy rappers fall the hell off the map
After just one listen I can tell off the bat
There will never been a time that I have to rewind it
On some "Goddamn, what was that line?" shit
In fact I find it, rather boring's the category I put 'em in
Fast forward that wack verse, I'd rather hear the hook again
I would rate your skills very low level
And your softness is at a Pillsbury dough level
Me, I've got the gold medal flow that'll put me on the freaking podium
You're child's play, you Nickelodeon
I'm about to sprinkle sodium all over them wounds
Big Wax, EOM, homie, don't get confused
Shouldn't get your hopes up when you know you gon' lose
You won't accomplish anything if you don't pay your dues, I'm sayin'
With all the shit I've charged to the game
The game should issue me a credit card in my name
No, we aren't the same, you a motherfucking ant size
My catalogue's Jack's beanstalk plant size
I'm sick of y'all sayin' y'all spit well
When y'all shit sound like dog shit smell
Seriously, take it back and say you're jokin'
When you rap, everyone behind your back does that masturbatin' motion
I've worked hard for this, while y'all half-assed it
Raise the white flag, matter fact, half-mast it
Half this rap shit that you hear is half plastic
The other human half is a lyin' ass bastard
Fake biters like dentures
Writin' their bios based on someone else's adventures
I be confusin' the censors with the shit that I speak
'Cause they don't know if it's some shit they should bleep
They're like, "Damn, that's the fifth time this week
That I've witnessed a sheet
Of lyrics from this geek
On my desk for inspection"
To bleep or not to bleep is an excellent question
These words have yet to receive Webster's attention
Spanish Webster is still fuckin' with the gender
Only point I'm tryna make's to give 'em something to remember
When they're spittin' on the microphone or strummin' on a Fender
These kids get mixed up like cummin' in a blender
Same goes for you lame trolls blogging
I would recommend less dick riding and more jogging
You at your computer desk, sippin' your Super Big Gulp
Eatin' Little Debbie snacks and Newton's full of fig pulp
I'm talking to you, it's sunny out, enjoy it
That bicycle you purchased was like money down the toilet
Yo, it's funny how steroided your confidence seems
When the last time you got laid Hipsters were rockin' big jeans
2-Pac was in his teens, variations of the running man were popular routines
Little NAS was up in Queens, yet to write, It ain't hard to tell
He was still busy watchin' the Smurfs battle Gargamel
Fuck it, I'll just keep rappin' great
Outside of the box like you used cheap packing tape
Try again, there's no time to waste
Just make sure the drawing board you go back to is dry erase
That shit you Sharpie ain't gon' never be sharper
Unless that Magic Marker is an actual magical marker
Even then, it'd have to have a good battery charger
'Cause I've been rappin' since Eric Clapton was back with the Yardbirds
I wish you the best of luck
If y'all agree with me that most rappers suck
Then make like a rake on the back of a landscapin' truck
And stand the fuck up