(feat. Rah Digga)



[VERSE 1: Rah Digga]

This's some shit for those that don't know me

My raps be on point and I pull blunts slowly

I drink Reezers when they stored in the freezers

Cool as Black Ceasar, destroy your whole career for my leisure

Watch tables turn when I set it

Like payin niggas cash for hookin up my bad credit

No Darkside Tales, strictly l's and sales

You be waitin for my shit like niggas waitin for they bails

I play pro, it's just the pre-season

All y'all asthmatics in the house start WHEEZIN

Cause ain't no tellin what I spew

I bust more rhymes than shots bust Amadou

Ooh - shit be in my head like that

Niggas know me from the ave, be scared to rap

So enjoy the fame now, cause I'm about to make it hard

To your death like that _Different Strokes_ broad



[CHORUS]

Cause ain't no tellin what I spew

Could be talkin bout me, could be talkin bout you

Rappers got no clue of what I do

When I'm talkin bout me, talkin bout you

(Talkin bout you!)

Blame it on the weed, blame it on the brew

Talkin bout me, talkin bout you

(Talkin bout you!)

Every single word be true

When I'm talkin bout me, talkin bout you



[VERSE 2: Rah Digga]

Comin with the rah-rah, I kick it in the alto

Ghetto like Ecko while you're cornier than Southpole

The rugged MC, I be that true head

Shittin on your CD like the Escobar bootleg

Back when I was a dirty girl.. now I be a dirty-ass woman

Trust me, you don't want no lyrical run-in (I'm dusty, bitch)

I got metaphors for all y'all rappin-ass ghetto whores

Weak niggas use the same word to rhyme

Got a hold of my demo, started usin punchlines

I captivate whole circuits like the soul circus

Knockin rappers off balance be my sole purpose

Got heads on edge like four quarters

Shit is real in the Ville like the nosey-ass reporters

I'm takin over, that's word to ma du

Gettin dollars, makin customers holler like John Woo



[CHORUS]



[VERSE 3: Rah Digga]

Many can play, but it's only one winnin

I put that on the number of the ciphers I done been in

Pinnin, paddin, lots of roller sheets

Watch the Brick City bitch warm mics like polar fleece

"Put me on the joint, Rah" - Nigga, now who you?

Askin stupid questions when you know I got a crew too

"Come to the show, yo" - all in how you handle it

Askin me the price when that's a question for my management

Rhymin ain't a game, think it is when it ain't

Like them niggas in a rush to get they money out the bank

I'ma crush everybody, burn mics with force

Break out to get the cash, take the Turnpike north

Got the Squad's joint, think my shit is hot?

Tell em they ain't heard nothin till my solo drop

And if I strike a nerve, don't even make that a issue

Cause you ain't seen the half if I really wanted to diss you



[CHORUS]