He Gone

[Verse 1: B$T YUNG MCCHICKEN]
I pop bandz when I roll with Justin, I drink lean not Robitussin
You know I am buggin’, I told her we were related just so the bitch would blow my cousin
I’m coming back and I am spitting fire
And you singing like Jeremiah, I won't retire
I am gon' get higher, I am gon' be flyer
You a fucking liar, like a snitch you see
Lyrically ya’ll be killin’ me up in the industry
I drink Vodka mix with the Hennessy
I really don’t do that but you get it B
Woah, Woah, Woah, lemme kill em with the flow
Sniff another quarter ounce of blow
Put it in ya nose
Cause these motherfuckers already be knowing when I’m turning on the rope
Prolly like woah
Like a like black rob motherfuckers know that I be getting no night job
She wanna swallow my knob like corn on the cob
And you know that you gonna get robbed
I’m back on my shit
Y'all ready know that I will not quit
I’m too legit like MC Hammer, Imma' just shit in the Pampers
You say words to my grandma, yeah
Sippin’ on D'USSÉ
I’m poppin’ your bitch in the coochie, 'cause she is juicy just like her booty
I’m the mane like Gucci, you prolly didn’t get it but, but I wouldn’t wanna whip it in the kitchen
These motherfuckers know that I be terrific
And I be never written, the motherfucker really be spittin’
Woah, lemme get on the beat
I made your bitch spit on my meat (Woo!)
OmniChopper come in
OmniChopper on the track

[Verse 2: OmniChopper]
Copy that, wanna say you gone for three minutes
Double time flow? That’s mothafuckin’ lame-o
Got no record like you got no sense
20 SPS? That’s fuckin’ intense
You are never gettin’ better, I will send a fuckin’ letter
On the mothafuckin’ topic of your venom. Wantin’ some medicine?
I cannot believe it. You will never come back
This is misinformation, this wack ass track
Never tried to do a faster flow, so slow
Always doing the same thing again, you don’t know
This is disappointing, fans will be comin’ to hit
They gonna be mad, I don’t give a shit
You are not a gunner, just a runner-up for the worst
No fire, using combos you used every fist
I learned your tactics, no pedal to the metal
Making zero sense, not a lyricist
Better stop electrifying; you got no conductor
Aim the Mac at your face, gettin’ on the fuckin’ floor
Might pull off restrictions of my trigger finger too
Back up the gravedigger when we go to war
Why? I don’t even fuckin’ know
But the man himself tryna lie to his fans
Promotional strategy, no need for war
But when it’s necessary, I will open the door
You’re not the Rap God, like oh my God
Not walking on the skies, your lightsaber gone
You’re messin’ around, at the bottom of Hell
If you really wanna battle, then fine, shit is on