Aiyyo check this verse out

My platinum chains, my big willy, my Mercedes-Benz

That's right? {*laughing*}

Are you a gun busting ****? (Buh-Buh-Buh-Buh)

Are you a bitch baggin ****? (Whu-Whu-Whu-Whu)

You got ice and ya chain and ya chong wit your Rolly on

Not just any Rolly but you bought the most expensive one

Hey take ya car keys*Jingle Jingle* to ya class E

Big body be for your CD- I mean, DVD

For ya T.V in ya head beats, in ya back seat

Haha, y'all think I'm mean

Runnin round talking bout the shit that you be talking bout

How you the drug game sold up and locked down

John Gotti got life and I'm sure he never told nobody

Boy lets put on an album so the fuckin feds could buy it

You shouldn't be shouting out them bodies you buried

Nine millimeters and Techs and them AK47's

Illegal weapons you talking bout you snucked in the club

You got so many guns

Tell me why you rappers steady getting robbed

I got two more verses for you (huh)

This ain't just to an individual person

These questions here for all of ya

I can write a song without ice, bitches, and cars

Can you mutha fuckas do dat? (DO DAT?!)

I can blaze a track without bustin a gat at a cat

Can you mutha fuckas do dat? (DO DAT?!)

Yoouuu gon' have to change up all yo shit in a little bit

When the radios in the club get to pumpin this

And they start to finding out what what rappin really is

Verse 2, now that you know what the song's about

Yall probably cussin me out

You gonna listen to it anyhow

Lets talk about somebody like Eskimo

Rentin they jewelry from Jacob and don't think we know

You got a platinum piece but your chain is plain white gold

After the video it got to go back to the store

That's Crazy, talkin bout some shit you don't own

Oughta be ashamed of yourself

Yo, don't they call that frontin, holmes?

You ain't Jigga, ****

Nor can you spin like Puff

And got a cash money deal

So what's your Big Willy talk for?

I get so excited man, your track got me leapin

Then you start rhyming and *Yawn* I get sleepy

It's a sad situation, record labels buggin out

Cuz they star artist done ran out of shit to talk about (Whoa!)

Yeah that's crazy and you think about it baby

Only thing that changed in yo rhyme was ya date "2000"

Oh that shit is hot, put that on the album

You heard it with my man kick that shit (??)

Loud and proud, **** swear he be throwin down

Arthur lose his voice every time he opens his mouth

I oughta hold up a signs and boycott they ass right

No more muthafuckin sound alikes!

Sound-a-like (Mobb Deep!) Sound-a-like (Jay-Z!) Sound-a-like (B.I.G.!)

And we don't need no more please!