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    It's all bad now man, it's all bad
    Cuz y'all done FUCKED up now
    YEA! Ha ha, new shit, aiyyo
    I just want the whole world to know
    That I did not start this, but I will finish it

    Comin' up, it never mattered what color you was
    If you could spit, then you could spit
    That's it, that's what it was
    Back when, motherfuckers was straight backpackin'
    Cipherin', fightin' for life in this raft
    For the mic to get past, and you psyched and you gasped
    Then you hype, cuz you last
    And you might whoop some ass
    If you lost, then you lost
    Shake hands like a man and you swallowed it
    When the Unsigned Hype column in The Source was like
    The only source of life
    When the mics used to mean something, a four was like
    You were the shit, now it's like the least you get
    Three and a half now just means you're a piece of shit
    Four and a half or five
    Means you're Biggie, Jigga, Nas, or Benzino
    Shit I don't even think you realize
    You're playing with motherfuckers' lives
    I done watched Dre get fucked on The Chronic
    Probably cuz I was on it
    Now you fucked me out of my mics twice, I let it slide
    I said I wouldn't hold my fuckin breath to get a five
    Shit I was right, I'da fuckin died already tryin
    I swear to God, I never lie, I bet that's why
    You let that bitch give me that bullshit review
    I sat and took it, I ain't look at the shit, we knew
    You'd probably try and fuck us with Obie and 50 too
    *Hock spit*, fuck a relationship we through
    No more Source for street cred, them days is dead
    Ray's got AK's to Dave Mays' head
    Every issue there's an eight page Made Men spread
    Will somebody please tell whoever braids his head
    That I am not afraid of this fuckin waste of lead
    On my pencil, for me to write some shit this simple
    So listen closely, as I break it down and proceed
    This old G's about to get smoked like rolled weed
    You don't know me or my motherfucking mother
    You motherfucking punk
    Put me on your fuckin cover just to sell your little
    Sell-out mag, I ain't mad, I feel bad
    Here's an ad, here's a poster of Ray-Ray and his dad
    You wanna talk about some shit that you don't know about, yea?
    Let's talk about how you're puttin your own son out there
    To try to eat off him because you missed your boat
    You're never gonna blow, bitch, you're just too old
    No wonder you're sore now, lordy you're bored now
    I'm pushing thirty, you're kickin forty's door down
    Bitch this is war now, and you'll never beat me
    All you do is cheat me out of Quotables
    But you know that you'll always see me
    On your TV, cuz you've got to stay up 'til
    Three in the morning to see your video played once on BET
    So, hee hee hee, who has the last laugh? Aftermath, yea
    So on behalf of our whole staff, kiss our asshole cracks
    We'll never fold or hold back, just know that
    Benzino's wack, no matter how many times I say his name
    He'll never blow jack
    You're better off tryin to bring RSO back
    Look at your track record, that's how far it goes back
    It's extortion, and Ray owns a portion
    So half of the staff up there is fresh out of jail from Boston
    Bullyin and bossin Dave like a slave
    They completely brainwashed him and forced him to stay
    Locked in his own office
    Afraid of the softest, fakest, wannabe gangsta in New York
    And it's pitiful, cuz I would have never said shit if you'da
    Kept your mouth shut, bitch, now what?
    Hit it Clue, spit it Slay, new shit, exclusive
    Yo Lantern, yo Who Kid, you know what to do with this
    Use it, I'm through, this is stupid
    I can't believe I stooped to this bullshit to do this
    And who you callin a bitch... bitch?

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