"Half A Dollar"
Diss who ya want
You can wish whatcha want
You can think you’re the ish
When you really ain’t
Half a dollar
Pop ya collar
Make yourself seem hotter
Than you really are
Strong-arm the music industry
Cruisin’ around in your benzi (NO!)
You think you tight dissin’ the white
Master of the rap game
The guy with the name
That everyone knows
Man, you need new flows
Start off with foes
What a way to go
You’re dumb and need the rest
Of your “talent” to join any contest
You’re only worth two-quarters
The only girls that want you are whores
And not the ones with hearts
Man, I’d dismantle you and handle you – ripped apart
You can’t rap, nor can you play off
The image that you portray – whoa, you’re not
As cool as you say, and you thought
That you had “ye,” when you fought
Your drug sella today, you need new skills to be taught
That violence ain’t the way, so take them gloves off
Your videos and songs aren't pimp
Too bad you always miss
The point of making a song
Lemme prove to you, ya dead wrong
