Samsquanch - My Hitta [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Verse 1]
I put my homies over bitches
But it's business over all
Got more bars than a prison
I should sentence most of y'all
I kill 'em with every sentence, dawg
It isn't close to call
You think you can write with me
Well, listen bro, you're wrong, man
I rip the flow so hard, like I'm tearing up carpet
I dare you to start shit
A terrorist, the American target
Man, I'm cooking up rappers
Prepare 'em in garnish
I mean, look at these rappers
Like I'm staring at garbage
Man I shook up these rappers
And you tickling my last nerve
I'm jittery off ritalin
Riddling the rap verse
I do it big, I'm killing 'em
With your little ass stature
Get a dime half naked
Smoke a nickel bag after
She taste my rainbow
I got that Skittle bag swagger
Trying to keep it real, in fact
Cause I'm a really bad actor
I'm putting Grammies over Oscars
Getting money, keep it in the family like we're mobsters
Damn it, I'm a monster
My grammar and my posture is just outstanding
I'm demanding him a sponsor
For what I'm planning
The planet's what I'll conquer
Shit can get extra ugly
The Phantom of the Opera
You ever touch me
Then man it's gonna cost you
I'm a doctor, if you claim you're sick
Have a saying, Oh God, you turned into a atheist
Take a dab, now I'm faded, gone
Brain's 86
Can't wait til they hate me
And they see me push that Mercededes whip
My teachers think I'm just too lazy
They hand me the paper
I'm just like, "Fuck you, pay me."
Chasing this paper is what I must do, daily
Won't stop me, I run through
This one's too crazy to cope with
Give her the wee-wee
Boy, she so french
She passed up your french fry for my french toast stick
Haha, and I don't even pour syrup on 'em
Got a lot of drive and liquor in me
I'm swerving on 'em