See, when you say shit like
You killed every rap bitch in the building
A real lyrical bitch get mad and gotta go in on your dumb ass
Like this, Okay
I was on the motherfucking Youtube
Had my little nephew, try'na find them Blues Clues
Then I see something 'bout a new little rap bitch
Told him "hold tight," I just had to click that shit!
Then I'm like "what? my shit must got a virus!
This is not a rap bitch, this is Miley Cyrus!
Must be something wrong cause the speakers is playing shit
But she on the second verse and still not saying shit"
Then I'm like "Oh, my shit acting right!
It's just this bitch simply not rapping right!"
See, I was laying low y'all, I was on my trap shit
Putting it off - I'll get back to the rap shit
I'mma let 'em simmer then hit 'em with the fire
But I ain't know the need was this motherfucking dire!
I ain't know y'all was listening to them trickin' ass birds and shit
I ain't know they was making up words and shit!
Heh, but it's cool, we be loading up the black trucks
We riding out, first stop gon' be that slut
Fuck "Five Stars" bitch, Keys is a galaxy!
The rap game hungry, tell 'em I'm the calories!
I'm sneezing at these bitches, fake chickens is an allergy
I don't get gifts, niggas put me on a salary
Now who's gon' pop off? Go hard, not soft!
I used your last mixtape to wipe my niece's snot off!
I am an infection, how you gon' stop it?
All up in your blood stream, no antibiotic
They like "Keys, drop it!" I'm like "no, pop shit!"
Swagger is galactic, I'mma need a rocket
If bitches gon' respond, then I think they shouldn't
Leave their brains more gelatinous than banana pudding
But see, I ain't gonna talk about it, cops gon' draw some chalk around it
These birds ain't 'bout shit, they just gon' squawk about it
If you wanna try me, you know where to find me
I be in my den, eating bitches where the lions be
I saw the Come Up, bitch, I never felt ya!
You the Harajuku Barbie and I'm going to melt ya!
She sound stupid - who the fuck talks like that?
You not hard, you'd get killed 'round these parts like that
Fuck try'na get shine off your name
I'm a motherfucking bully, I ain't worried 'bout the fame
I don't see another rap bitch around to pick on
You say you're plastic - perfect shit to shit on
I'm speaking for the hood, they say you're wack, I'm sorry
I'm a grown-ass woman, what I need with a Barbie!
When I did play with toys, it was nines and Glocks
There was no Polly in my pocket, I was toting them rocks
When the boys tried play, I was like "no, you dumb"
I was chasing big shit, they Money was too Young
If you thinking 'bout popping, I will smash you, stop
Your bars is inexistent like them gats you got
And this shit sound faker than that ass you got
I'm Keys! What good is that getting latches locked?
When you thought that you killed every bitch in the spot
Keys was in the parking lot, loading the Glock
When you came out the door, finished gluing your weave in
Keys ran up on that ass, bitch, you ain't leaving!
I just single-handedly like
Made more sense than she did in like
ALL HER MIXTAPES!
That's some sad shit, that's some that's some sad shit (x4)
Hah-hah! It's Keys, bitches!
Edit song description to add:
- Historical context: what album the song's on, how popular it was
- An explanation of the song's overall story (example: "In this song, Eminem corresponds with a crazed fan who ends up...")
- The sample used for the beat — use WhoSampled.com and wikipedia as references