baby boy

unsettled, unsolved, un worked out

the lost of women in hip-hop is the first draught

you gone hate me for it

but I gotta tell it

and if I speak it straight

it might stop the yellin

I owe her my poetics

das no doubt for true

if not for that,

might be nothing to do

an das for half yall

hold mics grabbin crouch

you just left ya mamas

basement grabbin couch

speak with the savage mouth

about the bitch you hate

cause she aint yo momma

trying to make her take her place

the verse is laced

you cant stand the taste

and you jumpin up from the plate

making a mess on the floor

like its yours to waste

come on baby boy

dont be a baby boy

time to man up

you her pride and joy