Best Rapper Under 25

[Produced by Maestro] [Intro] Weezy wassup with it bruddah? Tell Maestro I need to fuck over his beat real quick Hear me? [Hook] I'm the best rapper under 25, 24 inches on my ride Ball like 23 and I shot my first .22 when I was 9 [Verse 1] That's no lie, ho Rappers out they mothafucking minds so I gotta go Psycho on these niggas, call me Norman Bates with a poker face Got the banger in my hand and I'm out to poke your face .38 Special, grab it, let him have it, where the safe, we hungry Housing authority saved my Section 8 My section be on the west side of Compton Cali, champ Where the killers posted on the corner like a letter stamp Let a rapper tell me I ain't better than whoever's out I'mma knock 'em out his Force 1's once I air 'em out Air jets flying 'cross the atlas, I made it momma, made a promise Married to hip hop, and the maid of honor gonna be R&B I'm fucking her too, so please hand me my condoms Where the honeymoon in the mother fucking booth You're fucking right, I'm the fucking truth I put my hand on the bible Swear to god if I lie, then I'll probably die tomorrow Tell my momma don't feel sorrow cause her son was a gunner They found my corpse with a rapper's head in my stomach I'm right here, I ain't running even if the Iraqis w-was in back of me Back against the wall I'm clapping them rapidly y'all Would never stop what you can't see It's like a red light when driving with Stevie Wonder if you can understand or withstand the blast of my wrath I steer the game with both hands while you crash Like Earnhardt my heart to the fallen soldiers You can either ride, or get rolled over Sleeping on me, I put you in a coma So please chill out before you meet the coldest Starving every day, see my face where the bowl is Bowl on my face, I walk while my mouth hold it Hold it [Hook] [Verse 2] 21 gun salute And my soldiers killed 20 of your troops at a time And I got about nine teens on the corner fucking with marijuana Jive and heard about 18 rappers say that a bird can go for 17.5 Motherfuck that my sweet 16's be equivalent to about 15 pie I was 14 when I wrote a rhyme All I seen was 13 ghosts every time I wrote a crazy line All these 12 bars in my verses, that's what Notorious and Pac arrived God dammit I spit just like a Mac 11 every time I drop jewels, you drop dimes, you pretending to be like mine I intend to put about 10 of you rappers on channel 9 Straight up, fuck around and get ate up Cut 'em up in 7 ways, funeral carried by 6 in 5 days you'll know I go for Money when I sink my teeth in Carter III beats To you from me, my son the victory is mine, I won I'm the one The beat was the pussy And I cum, hard