Now let me see ya prove it
Just let me see ya prove it
Alright
The Pulitzer Prize winner is definitely spiralin’
I got your fucking lines tapped, I swear that I’m dialed in
First, I was a rat, so where’s the proof of the trial then?
Where’s the paperwork or the cabinet it’s filed in?
1090 Jake woulda took all the walls down
The streets woulda had me hidin’ out in a small town
My Montreal connects stand up, not fall down
The ones that you’re getting your stories from, they all clowns
I am a war general, sеasoned in preparation
My jacket is covеred in medals, honor and decoration
You waited for this moment, overcome with the desperation
We plotted for a week, and then we fed you the information
A daughter that’s eleven years old, I bet he takes it
We thought about givin’ a fake name or a destination
But you so thirsty, you not concerned with investigation
Instead you in that Venice studio, it’s a celebration
You gotta learn to fact-check things and be less impatient
Your fans are rejoicin’, thinkin’ this is my expiration
Even the picture you used, the jokes and the medication
The Maybach glove and the drug he uses for less inflation
Master manipulator, you bit on the speculation
You dumb and reactive, nigga, I’m petty with dedication
What about the bones we dug up in that excavation?
And why isn’t Whitney denyin’ all of the allegations?
Why is she followin’ Dave Free and not Mr. Morale?
You haven’t seen the kids in six months, the distance is wild
Dave leavin’ heart emojis underneath pics of the child
Speakin’ of anything with a child, let’s get to that now
This Epstein angle was the shit I expected
TikTok videos you collected and dissected
Instead of bein’ on some diss-direct shit
You rather fucking grab your pen and misdirect shit
My mom came over today, and I was like, “Mother, I—
Mother, I—, mother—”, ahh, wait a second
That’s that one record where you say you got molested
Aw, fuck me, I just made the whole connection
This about to get so depressin’
This is trauma from your own confessions
This when your father leave you home alone with no protection, so neglected
That’s why these pedophile raps and shit you so obsessed with, it’s so excessive
They actin’ like it’s so aggressive, but you just never known affection
I don’t wanna diss you anymore, this really got me second-guessin’
“Touch My Body” by Mariah Carey play, you probably start reflectin’
I never been with no one underage, but now I understand why this the angle that you really mess with
Just for clarity, I feel disgusted, I’m too respected
If I was fucking young girls, I promise I’d have been arrested
I’m way too famous for this shit you just suggested
But that’s not the lesson, clearly, there’s a deeper message
Deep cuts that never healed, and now they got infected
Like if Dave really fucked your girl and got her pregnant, talk about breedin’ resentment
I’m not sure how to ease the sentiment, this shit’s too intimate
I’m praying you recover from both incidents
But you a piece of shit, so this shit really no coincidence
Drake is not a name that you gon’ see on no sex offender list, Eazy-Duz-It
You mentionin’ A minor, but niggas gotta B sharp and tell the fans, “Who was it?”
You thought you left D flat, D major
I’ll slit your throat with the razor
And do Rick Ross Air like that one flight from Malaysia
I’m your baby mama’s screen saver
Only fuckin’ with Whitneys, not Millie Bobby Browns, I’d never look twice at no teenager
I’m a fucking hitmaker, dog, not a peacemaker
Yeah, bullets that I’m stuffin’ in each chamber, your ass in extreme danger
Stop buyin’ views and bot comments, you may as well keep the paper
Shit you ’bout to need for later
I give a fuck about your streamin’ data
You could drop a hundred more records, I’ll see you later
Yeah, maybe when you meet your maker
I don’t wanna fight with a woman beater, it feeds your nature
If you still bumpin’ R. Kelly, you could thank the Savior
Said if they deleted his music, then your music is goin’ too, a hypocrite
I don’t understand why these people praise ya
Soundin’ like you send him commissary when he need some paper
Album droppin’ soon, no wonder you turn to a clout chaser ‘stead of doin’ hard labor
Nigga, I’ll see you when I see you like Fantasia
And Whitney, you can hit me if you need a favor
And when I say I hit ya back, it’s a lot safer
Huh, I promise
Yeah
I’m not gonna lie, this shit was some, some good exercise, like
It’s good to get out, get the pen workin’
You would be a worthy competitor if I was really a predator
And you weren’t fuckin’ lying to every blogger and editor, but
It is what it is
You definitely got this shit burnt the fuck out though, like
You got ten more records to drop
The one before the last one, we finessed you into tellin’ a story that doesn’t even exist
And then, you go and drop the West Coast one to try and cover that up
I would like that one, that w—, that-that would be some shit I could dance to if you wasn’t
Triplin’ down on some whole other bullshit, but
You know, at least your fans are gettin’ some raps out of you
I’m happy I could motivate you
Bring you back to the game, like
You know, but
Just let me know when we’re gettin’ to the facts
Everything in my shit is facts
I’m waitin’ on you to return the favor, like
