Yo Yo Yo, let me holla at dis:
Bird, bitches say it's da word.
But whasta matta wit you?
Fool, hadn'ya heard?
While you was off a-runnin yo mouth,
I put two in dat birds head.
Now it ain't gonna fly South!
South, back to where Tennessee is.
Back to where home is.
Back to when I was a kid.
Back then we didn't pause,
No not fo a second,
Shootin birds wit no cause,
Pullin a 9' out our 'draws,
aka dat's mah breeches, beetches,
And da fact be dat all you punks can see,
No one plays dis game like me,
No one spits rhymes like me,
No one talks with time like me,
****, no one even sells dimes like me,
Yo, my bad, I went off on a tangent,
Need I remind you?
I'm dat bird killin' Gent.
Kinda like Fiddy Cent.
But wit a white boy bent,
And a few less bullet size dents.
Ha, dats right I just stole 'notha show
And when the hats come off,
I know they liked mah flow.
Justa think all this from a bird bashin' came.
Amazin' considerin dat it brought me dis fame.
Lucky for the bird I let its family go,
But say anotha word, I'll put yours six feet deep,
And not anotha inch mo.
Ha, you say you reppin Punjab?
I say you a phoney,
Dat shit is faker than Oscar Myers' Bologna.
So da next time you come a walkin in mah town,
You best look right then left,
Cause I'll be around.
Ready to pounce, ready to strike.
Ready to knock you out after I rock dis mic'.
I hope dis rap taught you a lesson:
Dat birds bein words simply ain't worth professin'.
Foo, let me tell you once mo, befo I exit,
You keep sayin' "Birds" I'll keep puttin' em in a casket.
Now go, run along, play wit yo friends.
I'll still be here rappin' til da very end.
Yo Yo Yo. Cheesy in the heezy.
Represent teh wizza.
C-unit.