[Intro]

Come one now, y'all know I was coming

Y'all just ain't now when

That was a cheap shot, now I gotta get you
[Verse 1]

Big Sean's album is trash, it sound wicked

In fights I be swinging like Will and Jada Pinket

“Papoose, who?” Boy, I'll give you faceshots

I'll leave your eye puffy like the nigga who made Ma$e hot

All of your dogs is straight dogs, y'all get straight shots

Bastards, I spit ACID they need Maalox

Kanye wore a skirt what was he trying to prove

Y'all be following the illuminati rules

Carry yourself like a man, and you will fail

Play a bitch, you prevail

The only time they want the black man to show his strength

Is during sports, outside of that they want us to be soft

So Big Sean speak like a woman when he talk

When he having a seat he keeps his legs crossed

We can't blame him, it's really not his fault

This is the feminization that he was taught

You ain't a man take that M from your mannerism

You brain dead, I just gave you an aneurysm

True and livin, god cypher divine, use your wisdom

Whenever I'm reciting a rhyme the proof is given

Using Biggie's name, who gave you permission?

You look like Ralph Tresvant from New Edition

Gifted, I shoot the gift, no curse

Every time they play Control they skip your verse

Little bitch how much change you got in your purse?

I'm 'bout to lift your skirt

It's a difference between great music and GOOD music

Y'all ain't good with me

How the fuck they put your album out before Pusha T?

I figured out why you're so skinny then I got over it

Pusha must be selling the crack and you smokin' it

Anorexic describe the way that you spit

On your album cover it look like you taking a shit

Behind the green curtain, the same color as Kelis' dress-

On Nas album cover, you a complete mess

Is that a indirect or you just a copycat?

Cause he killed you on your own album, he bodied that

Got the audacity to say your better than Drake

And out rap Jay Z, what a level of hate

Those artists made you hot, go ahead and give grace

Worst Clique verse, they should spit that in your face

Your biggest record was called A-S-S

Nicki Minaj made it hot, you way less fresh

I heard you Ye yes man who get paid less checks

So when Ye ask a question you just say “yes yes”

You cocky for no reason like you making mad noise

You got your style from the original Bad Boy

B-I-G, why you said that shit?

Always saying “Boi!” that's Craig Mack's shit

Still in New York? you better head back, bitch

Red still ringing, let that red Mac spit

First chain, don't make me laugh lame

In Brooklyn that would'a been your last chain

Said you stay on your toes, damn that's for ballerinas and girls

You should stay grounded, keep your feet on the floor

Miley did your video without you even

I saw your interview couldn't give a good reason at all

Lost on your first single, you was fiending the draw

Attention to your project, she even th score

She illuminated your album, you was fiending for more

Prostituting for the press, you a media whore

Mentally you a virus, part of the reason we lost Hannah Montana

Now we stuck with Miley Cyrus

Talking 'bout you hall of fame but you and Ye is all the same

Share a verse, wear a skirt place them on the wall of shame

When they name lyricist they don't never call his name

So in every interview you hear this fuckboy complain

Never walked the subway tracks in the pouring rain

With a can of spraypaint, just to tag up on the train

Never seen a movie breaking Beat Street, Krush Groove,

Style Wars, Wild Style, damn you a fuck dude

Ain't hip hop in a lot of ways

Never walk with a Walkman, your first headphones were Dr. Dres

Sean I get at you, ready to attack you,

Last name Mack and you, you gonna call me Papoose

Right on my hand I got my whole city tattoed

Five burroughs of death, don't make me back smack you

King of my castle, get out of here, skedaddle

Eyes on the prize and my ears to the gravel

Niggas like to tattle, shotty double barrel

Brains on the windshield, Caine cousin Harold,

I carry the torch like a motherfucking statue,

Shitting on these rappers I don't even need a bathroom

They probably never had you, know the man who craft you

Big head scientist, go by the name of...

Oh you spit a mean 16, I can match you,

Well I spit a M-16, who wanna battle?

Papoose who? World Health Organization,

Papoose who? You a owl or you hatin'

Who? you know who the God is, stop fronting, never say who

Who is a rock group in London, ha ha