fuck a bitch fuck the fame fuck the glory ill rather be puffin on mars spittin my own story buzzed out in bars i dont fit no fucking category my flows by the yards the words are my territory lil sucka bully raised in the dormitory now im busting my rhymes while i shine my bic to pack me a dime hachet chain swinging on my chest like Tarzan on a vine so i take my time, im a verse spittin bud litin lyrical native line after line writin at 5 a m to 9 i get creative fuck you hataz i dont have the time to whine i assign, every word that i define. some i decline delete you like my own design like it's mine to put this verse in my shrine since its putting chills down my own spine lil amateur bitches, i been rapping since i was thirteen packing greens in between zig zags sippin major lean. so this is how imma be. like you ur words is past due a lil bitch in curfew smelling like perfume this is what i do, nothn new except rap a lil verse to make you feel like louy lou bruce lee looking mothafucka learn some kung fu ashamed of ur own game with nthn claim but ur own name lyrically im burnings in flames compositions books full of things to say im on my own rapping on this microphone feels like im home not alone writing lyrics on my phone im in the zone stoned NO WHERE ELSE TO BE BUT TO SMOKE SOME GREENS AT HOME SMOKING SOME GREENS AT HOME SMOKING SOME GREENS