This aint no competition
so I wont wrap myself in big words and slackness.
I wont check my conscience at the door.
I wont pretend your bullshit half-ass rhyming
doesn’t disrespect this art and insult my intelligence.
I wont bop my head at your hypeasshitcoolasamofokaflow
cause you all rhythm and no reason.
I wont clap cause you described every detail of your anatomy
cause despite your insistence your manhood still comes up short.
I wont laugh at your creative use of the word
nigga--niggarette--niggarachi--niggaraptabulous
cause I never met anyone who fit the definition of nigga I liked.
I aint gonna big you up as you bombardberateblastatthespeedoflight
toward me and try to tell me what my blackness means
cause white men been tryin that for four hundred years.
no, this aint no competition
so there’s no need to tell you if wackness
was like walking you’d be running.
I cant relate when all you can speak
on is your sexual fears, your weed and your beers.
Nah, this aint no competition at all.