Celph got soft, Jules.
The last verse, don't tell me you think that's soft lol, he's the best rapper ever.
Y'all motherf
uckers better fall back
You're talkin' to a kingpin
Who write holy scriptures on a napkin with an ink pen
And y'all ain't real unless you on Floridian realty
Cause we don't keep it dirty down here we keep it filthy
I'm all over Tampa like Bob's Barricades
With bombs and grenades at your mother's crib givin' her serenade
Up in the club I might have snuck in a snub
So if it's beef bring the ruckus and a bucket for blood
And don't think we're gonna meet you outside just to thug
We gonna meet you outside with the pump
And the buckshot from the gauge will give you acne scars
Clap at me from your whip
I'm launchin' missiles that'll lift the gravity out your car