Bobby D? You should be called Bobby Lame
If someone gave you keys to the game
You’d swerve into another lane
Big brain shit I got big range
You don’t shoot three’s boy you shoot mid range
I keep the clip loaded with a blunt rolled
When shit unfold this bitch run cold
I keep a 9 on me like a vintage romo
You should die of AIDS like a vintage homo
Ya bitch underwear at my place and they mad wet
She wrap checks with my address, I’m cashin rap checks
Don’t battle me boy cause you’ll prolly lose
Them 3 red dots ain’t ya alarm but you boutta snooze
I throw my hands up and say a prayer
I’m at my crib where ya bitch left her underwear
ELF.
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