Lyrics
Quiet You a dick... rider,
You sit online talkin bout 50 like you know em,
You's a dick riiider,
We all clown on him but you wanna blow em.
Quiet's a dick... riiiider,
You dream about gettin' him wet in the back of a Lexus
Yous a dick, riiiider,
I bet you'd pull a "bitch" and ask him 21 questions.
Quiet talk online like he bout blow up,
Only thing he gettin air for is his 50 blow up,
Shows up, got his little Young Buck Strap-on,
And his Spider Loc Cock ring all strapped on,
Thas right, i used the same beat that you rapped on,
Only thing is when I go to FP, I don't get laughed on,
Son you talk a lot of sh*t for someone who's reputation,
IS the constant mockery of his G-Unit masturbation,
Constant hatin' on Game like he Satan, I know the answer,
Cuz you got his number off the net, but he won't answer,
With rhymes worse than back up dancers, I could understand,
Why he wouldn't want you to even be a fan,
But damn, that's a man, you should steer clear,
I've heard of awkward fanmail, but your letters, pure queer,
So I hear my name was brought up,
in that diss you did, musta taken hours to get thought up,
But hold up, you took all your prior posts verbatim,
But you still had the inablity to say em,
Storm, you sayin, you gonna blow up, but how can that be,
You have '4' dicks in your face, so you can't 'C',
ha ha, and tee hee hee, why you wanna pick on lil ol' me,
And off and foolish, ahhh... it seems we have a 'MysterE'.
-ad lib at the end-
