
Originally Posted by
BackInBlack
Oh goodie, look, he can rhyme tossed with... tossed
Robbmack thinks he's all that, he thinks he's a boss
I think his rhymes are aenemic, dyin' from blood loss
Some kinda crazy talk
Talkin' about lions paws
And how he likes lickin' balls
And it's all his pa's fault
Or something another
Coz he caught his son f****** his mother
But I didn't quite catch all of it
Now it's in my mental dumpster, just a ball of schit
That's officially what we're callin it
Just like your brother Toby
Ya still aint got a f***** clue
I forgive ya little homie
Whether you accept it's up to you