Rep pin’ East Coast till I die, Bands on the de low in my ride, You don’t want the smoke on my life, Asking me to quit, I just got started. Calling me a bitch, but you know I’m harder. Okay, Northeast. More of a beast, then the Minotaur. Insofar, you rappers are so miniature. 17, more mature, then you immature little fucks. And I don’t give one of em. You one-done, I’ve lost a few, But learned a few lessons. You should be blessed to be in my presence. I got brass knuckles, in my possession. Cops wanna search me out, I tell him to find a new possession. You want beef, I got a steak knife, a nine, 4-5 in my head-rest. Ate the beef for breakfast. I’ve been jerked around, like a handjob. Damn, I’m, sick of the bullshit. I like my beat with horns, So that bulls hit. I’m adequate, I’m respected cuz I’m passionate. Racking it, stacking shit, you fucking wit me that’s blasphemy. And that shit ain’t tolerated. Look at how my city, has populated. But, get my people off the streets. Middle fingers to the elites, cuz I’m