So Cam calls me up, and he said, I heard you have bars.

And I said, I don't have any bars. No, I don't know where you heard that.

He said, well, I saw it on your Instagram.

Somebody said you used to rap.

Is that true?

I'm like, no, that's not true at all.

He did not believe me.

And that's why we're here.

Last chance on the mic to prove that I got heat.

My style's discreeto con.

You like creep.

Mexico, your mind that you ain't heard before.

Like the Yankees lineup when the salary's low.

Call me four-wheel drive because I'm all terrain.

I got many different ways to rap about the same thing. It's not a hoax.

My approaches different from the few white folks that broke through the business. Move maker,

root breaker. Catch us in the newspaper causing attention just like a new Laker. Introduce myself as

fate. Style is rude. Smile is cool. Delivery smooth. Artillery because I'm a lyricist too.

What happened to street hob

chilling on the corner just waiting to beatbox now my boys is like divox with their hecock

posted on the block with their rocks and rebox and i do this for the kids in suburbia and i do this for the thugs

that'll tie you down and murdia rocking sweatsuits are dressed up-piece. Pleats on Wall Street to be clacking with three heats.

...