One time, yeah. Uh-huh, uh-huh, yeah. Yeah, yeah. I've done some dumb ass things like clustered the mic's fuck up on fuss and the fight can't run past me. I'm too fast for a fat guy, am I sprinting eight one? That's a rate all these rap guys are men and I need runs. Merit on spit of the yarn, the air that I deliver stark the night with my Blair Witch project niggas. I'll be like him, hilly, my brother, whatever. I figure, I figure eight the blicking itchy, a trigger finger to date the pardon. From the season of winter all the way to autumn, I eat them on any type of frequency or around the follow. Get to down the swallow, my next generation. And when your rhyme is hollow, my eyes intimidation, their lies are situation. Weird mind is in my place, spare lies in any statement, she or Friday, and all they faces, you fucked up. Don't underestimate the baseline, throw on the stress, but creative mind. Don't wanna test, but I make a fine, plug the mic in your chest and your fuss with the vocal karaoke, which am I the best professor, ask tight shit, when the best to beat the best of you, that's the next my hit. Yeah, from and I'ma do my thing, throw this, we're gonna do this thing. Yeah, yeah, every time I'ma do my thing, throw this, we're gonna do this thing. Yes. We, haha, so fresh, so every lesson, okay. Is that a word? Okay, alright, I'm telling you right now, this afro kid here, you know what we serious business, I'm telling you. Thanks for watching.