Oh don't know nothin bout no hip hop Look at 'em, at 'em man Little fucks the fuck you doin at your shows homie? Don't listen to 'em Math You, do thing
1] Little Math You, fifteen, And it ain't if it ain't the cursin version the sticker on the front to piss off his dad Just tell bitch to get off the rag, huh Little Math You from the burbs here it like the only thing that puts the nerve in his spirit Go ahead and some ruckus for the hell of it And yell it on the streets about development Your telling me this ain't for him right How many y'all get an invite? Give him access and let Math You ya Wait a half a year and he'll be rapping in that And when he does, check him on his Was peace when he just played the of the royalties is love if that's what you give I couldn't give a fuck where you grew up or where you live It goes...
Oh you a now huh You now, your too large to talk Don't I used to give you free refills motherfucker
2] Forget snitchin motherfucker, stop If you of rats get the fuck out the kitchen They only when you cookin up a mess And I'm supposed to be impressed by bulletproof vest? come back, gun packin touch act Thug chapter bout as a bug zapper Fuck that, add up all the stories in raps And subtract each one that really from your past Take the remainder and With how many times in life you thought that you was gonna die Divide that sum the outcome Of how kids you had before you dropped an album Low ceiling for the masses of rappers Most of dope that I know got broke ladders Try to juggle factors, shit I can't imagine that math I'm a high school brat But I know what is that I gave it everything that I have I'm a son and a dad Trynna learn mathematics for the I'm out, I got to hit the gym so we can a video
Sky {What up?} I was if you got the time If you can go and look up and see if you can find me a gym {Yep} That'll let me smoke up in {No problem}