Rap Lyrics

Using numerology to count the people I sent to heaven,

Produces more digits than 22 divided by 7.

Niggas running around fantasizing like they’re Peter Pan…

Your life’s a scam and I’mma fuck it up like Neverland.

Your mom’s in our business…she’s in our business…

Can’t you see, girl, that your mom’s trying to end this?

I gave birth to most of them MC’s…

So when it comes around to the month of May,

Send me your royalty check for Mother’s Day.

What’s the remedy? Suckaz better get their own identity,

And to the enemy, you better roll like there’s ten of me.

I make chicks consider themselves widows whose husbands ain’t even died yet.

Laugh now, cry later: this is the karma.

Hip-hop never died, it’s just sick of the drama.