Get Good.

I don't wanna be as good as these other rap guys

I wanna be better, they wonderin bout my sack size

"Ziv can't be good if he's white, gotta be black guys"

Bullshit I'm the best y'all just haven't realized.

I'm a fucking beast so I go and get in my mode

Then I hop on a track and start spitting these rhymes so cold

Y'all never pick up a pen that shit's growing mold

I be snappin it's like an auction, but you know I'm never sold.

It's like I'm ahead in the bottom of the ninth

And there isn't anyway you can stop my team from winning

and It's been like from the very first night,

I go hard even on Sundays, lord forgive me for my sinning

Fuck a booth I don't need it I'm a success without it

Bring it to my face if you don't think I'm about it

I wanna get up on a roof top so you can hear me shout it

"Young Ziv is the best" And can't a motherfucker doubt it

I feel so damn conflicted because I know that I'm the best

But there's a couple things I need to try to get up off my chest

Like how I mistreat my body and don't give it any rest

And if you offer me a blunt, I'll never pass it, like a test

I'm smarter than these rap guys and that's the fucking truth

can't spell so they say Stu instead of studio or booth

Fucked up when they stole from me, bit off more than they could chew

I whip up wonderful concoctions straight up out the witches brew.

Fuck this, y'all couldn't do this shit if it wasn't for little ole me

I'm coming at y'alls fucking throats and ain't letting none of y'all breathe

Don't even try to run I'll catch you before you get to leave

I'll run you down and knock you out like my name was Bud Dupree.

There's so much anger in my tracks, so much hate in my lyrics

Goddamn I'm getting pissed, give me that bong and let me clear it.

I'm the best at writing songs, I drop bombs I know y'all hear it

I'm about to kill all these bitch ass rappers, and they know they fear it.

I'm a demon so don't push me or you'll end up in hell

Or you'll wake up next to me in a fucking jail cell

Either way I got the bars to pay my fucking bail

I'll send your mom your head in a box in the mail

Goddamn the feds are knockin, or is it me at your door?

Either way don't answer or you'll be lying on the floor

Whether its in hand cuffs or a body bag, on your way to a morgue

Got your family fucking terrified of what I have in store.

They better run, they better scream, cause the god is on the way

I'll catch them and I'll beat em leave em in dissaray

Nowhere to run nowhere to hide, nowhere for them to stay

All there's left to do now for them is get on their knees and pray.