Wayne B - Vlad the Impaled (feat. M.West)

Lil bitchass wanksta you ain't bout nothing
Just a fake ass Snitch Nine stunting without substance
Talk shit about sets thinking that'll get you bubblin
No respect since you bitched out when confronted
You run the the list so rappers gotta check with you first?
You from the Ukraine you don't run shit in the place of my birth
In creve cour when you in the door nobody disperse
Vlads a gangsta? Sounds impaled on a dick when he spits a verse
This the only white boy in the city with a hit
All I hear is no flow gimmicky bullshit
Get called out by a motherfucker that can really spit
Start whining and crying like the election was rigged
Now you fuckin with a student of the game
Prudent and crafty with the words that I say
I'm betting the cash you flashin' your daddy really made
Threaten to pop a Xan being your only claim to fame
Pussy flapping lips loosely not knowing what the fuck you're talking bout
Real lyricists don't respect the cap watch you foolishly chasing clout
I'm a killer on the track but some folk might silence what's coming out your mouth
Better shut your trap better stop digging that hole fore it's too late to get yourself out

I'm coming I'm coming
I'm aiming I'm busting
They talking bout nothin
So I cannot trust em
They bluffing so fuck em
They scandalous scheming
Just give me a reason
To keep em from breathing
You know I'm a heathen
This shit is too easy
But if it's a problem
Imma dissect em like science
I ain't lying
This is no David and Goliath
Stop trying
Better get the lions if you claim king of the jungle
Full of shit now imma flush call my dawg and go get the muzzle
Or might just rob him when he say that he be cheefin' reefer
Turn to a scary movie I ain't talking Jeepers Creepers
You done dug yourself a hole and by the minute getting deeper
Or resort to violence put him in a box like Imo's pizza

Written by:
Mark West, Wayne Bittick

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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