still your not perfect son neither am I
you got sweat so much where pigs do fly
Critics suck I mean who are they
I'll stay humble enough to bow the knee to pray

I believe that God is the ever constant amidst all your inconsistencies
I'm holding my own with my hand on the phone
theses Satanic demons choose to never leave me alone
we are at war why you kicking it with a two bit whore

Critics can kiss my ass
they ain't getting by on any free pass
they come to kill, steal & destroy just like there homeboy Satan
I'm choose to cook up something light by frying it in bacon

you best be leaving on a long awaited vacation
they will never help you cause they can't even help themselves
perhaps its best I put that book right there on the shelf
there a spitting image of a Keebler elf

See bruh positive reinforcement is good for the heart
Critics you know there jealous you see
there the type of people that watch as you go pee
nothing good about critics you see

I'll take my chances & make sweet history